Cutting Board

In a quiet woodshop tucked into the hills of Vermont, this cutting board was born from the hands of a craftsman named Eli. Eli wasn’t just a woodworker—he was a storyteller in maple and walnut, a weaver of memories into grains and grooves.

This board began as a handful of offcuts—scraps of alder, maple, and granadillo left behind from bigger, flashier projects. Tony, however, saw potential in these “leftovers.” He believed every piece of wood had a story and a purpose. He arranged them with care, lining the strips together like verses of poetry, blending warm honey tones with deeper chocolate streaks, until the surface told a story of contrast and harmony.

The wide walnut edge wasn’t just for stability—it was a signature, a final brushstroke. Tony always said it grounded the piece, gave it character. He oiled the board with his homemade blend of beeswax and mineral oil, letting the scent of the forest rise from the grain one last time.

On a snowy December evening, Tony wrapped it in brown paper and twine and handed it to his granddaughter, as a housewarming gift. “For all the meals you’ll make, and all the stories you’ll tell,” he said with a wink.

Years later, it sat on his granddaughter’s counter in her small Brooklyn apartment. The wine bottle was opened to celebrate her first published cookbook. The glass of bourbon? That was for Tony—his favorite. And the board? It held more than cheese or bread that night—it held legacy, love, and a quiet pride that stretched from Vermont to the heart of the city.

And it’s still there, catching crumbs and echoes of laughter, soaked in memories and ready for the next story.

(Made by Tony Giacobbe for In The Kitchen Contest)