This happens at least once in every kitchen.

A new cook is told to chop leafy herbs, and they are given a cutting board and told to hone their knife. A bunch or two in, the new cook inevitably looks up at the Robo-coup (a.k.a. “Robocop” or “Robo”, a brand name for a heavy-duty professional food processor. Our version of a Cuisinart.)
“This is friggin’ stupid. It would be way faster and more efficient to use the Robo-coup.”

An older cook looks up from their own prep and shakes their head. “Nope, it’s gotta be like this. The food processor doesn’t do it right.”
To the new cook, this sounds like “peeling potatoes builds character” hazing bullshit. As soon as the chef isn’t looking, the new cook has taken down the heavy cube of a machine, affixed the bowl and blade, and is shoving bunches of parsley in while the older cook rolls his eyes, watches, and waits.

The machine IS powerful, and noisy. Chunks of green juice and herb splatter against the clear lid like alien guts while the very-pleased-with-themselves cook watches and uses his “expert opinion” to decide how long is enough. Soon, he tips out the bowl into a container and is about to load another couple of bunches in when the chef’s voice rings out. “The hell do you think you are doing?!”

Young Iron Chef freezes, they don’t understand. The parsley is getting chopped, right? They’re doing their job. They’re doing it faster than everyone else, right? That’s the point, isn’t it? Why are they in trouble? “Chopping the parsley like you said, Chef!”

The chef’s hand snakes out and grabs the container of greenery. It’s watery, dark green, and practically mush except for the fibrous stems sticking out like toothpicks. They jab a finger at the mess and say “This isn’t how I told you to do it. What am I supposed to do with this? This parsley gets used for garnish. Do you normally sprinkle baby food on things?”

The young cook stands in embarrassed silence as the chef demonstrates- again- how parsley gets cut with a sharp knife. The razor-sharp, methodical movement makes quick work of a bunch nearby. The blade slices through the leaves rather than crushing and bruising them and the fibrous stems give way to rocking motion. A saw going through a tree rather than a sledgehammer. In moments, the parsley is reduced to bright green, edible confetti which the chef delicately picks up and sprinkles on the cutting board in demonstration.

“This I can use. That,” they say gesturing at the parsley mush, “is a waste of money. There’s a reason I tell you to do things a certain way. If they take too long, learn to do them better then learn to do them faster. Understand?”
“… Yes, Chef.”
“Good. Now get to it, and go wash the robo-coup.”

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“When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”
“If you give someone something new to play with, they are bound to try it.”

Labor-saving devices are absolute lifesavers in the kitchen. I wouldn’t get nearly as much done if I had to stand there and mix every dough and batter by hand instead of using the mixer. New technology emerges all the time to make life in the kitchen more fluid and efficient.

In our kitchen at the winery, for example, we have two ovens that can cook to a time, cook to an internal temperature with an attached probe, adjust for multi-stage cooking, steam, sous-vide, bake, and even smoke whatever you put in them with the power of cutting-edge computer control…

Or they can until the computer freezes and the oven doesn’t shut off when it’s supposed to, burning your lavash crackers.
Or the probe falls out and it tells you your pale liquidy Basque-style cheesecakes are ready.
Or the timer resets for no particular reason and your rare strip-loin turns into shoe leather because no one heard an alarm and it took someone saying “Hey, the probe is reading 180F…”

During the fall, after I introduced poached pears as a topping on a dessert, my chef said they were “a little overcooked” and insisted I sous-vide them in this machine. I vacuum-sealed the pears with some spices and poaching liquid in bags and set them to sous-vide on the settings the chef asked.

Poaching pears on a stovetop takes maybe 45 minutes with observation. If you want them firmer, go less. The Magical Wonder Oven needed 3 hours to get to this point, with no noticeable improvement in quality. It was less efficient and more costly to use the fancy machine when a little bit of skill would have done the job well.

The best and most modern tools are beyond useless if either they don’t work right or you don’t know how to use them right. Similarly, the most basic equipment can render a better product if you have the skill to use it well. For pie crusts, I can absolutely make a flaky pie crust with a stand mixer or a food processor to cut the butter in, but there is always more observation and guesswork involved than when I go in with my hands. I can see and feel it when it’s ready.

Machines can help with accuracy and consistency in a kitchen to be sure (so long as they work,) but they will never entirely take the place of Understanding, Instinct, Experience, and Skill.

Take a breath, be patient, sharpen your knives, and chop the damn parsley.

Stay Classy,