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When an award-winning master brewer, James Beard comes with a request, you listen closely. The journey of making this latest commission was full of unexpected challenges, but at long last, I prevailed, making a matched set of ten chef knives and a short sword to celebrate an important milestone in the life of a vibrant American company.
The Backstory In 1996, Brooklyn Brewery opened its first tasting room in Williamsburg, NYC, on a mission to bring brewing back to Brooklyn. The mastermind behind both the tasting room and the sensational beer was head brewmaster Garret Oliver. In the years since, Brooklyn Brewery has continued to grow, and now with a prestigious James Beard Award under his belt, Mr. Oliver is at it again, developing a brand new tasting room to bring the Brooklyn Brewery to even new heights. The Ten Knife Commission Last year, Garrett Oliver came to me with a proposal: to incorporate metal and wood from the old tasting room into a limited edition of ten chef knives to commemorate the old brewhouse and to celebrate the opening of the new one, as well as a Wakizashi, or a Japanese short sword, to cut the ribbon at the grand opening of the new location. Never one to shy away from a challenge, I jumped at the chance to work with Mr. Oliver and add my personal design sensibilities to this historic occasion. After making some sketches and settling upon a design for the knives, the crew at the Brooklyn Brewery sent me several big boxes of scrap material: large stainless steel stirring blades from the brewing vats, a chunk of timber, a roll of copper flashing, and a bundle of barrel hoops from their coveted ‘Black Ops Imperial Stout.” I got to work. My first step was to cut out blanks for the knife handles and send them out to be stabilized. Southern yellow pine, the timber that was provided, is fairly soft by itself, but once the pores of the wood have been impregnated with epoxy resin under extreme vacuum pressure, the wood becomes hard and durable and nearly waterproof; perfect for knife handles. Then I set to work on the blade steel. Brewing equipment is largely made from 304 stainless steel, the same kind of metal used in cooking pots and tableware. It has excellent corrosion resistance, but it’s impossible to harden it enough to make a knife blade, which must take and hold a sharp edge. In order to incorporate the recycled metal, my plan was to sandwich a piece of high-carbon steel (which will hold a keen edge) between two pieces of the 304 stainless in a construction known as ‘san mai,’ or 3-layer steel. The san mai construction would also provide an interesting visual contrast in the final piece between the dark, carbon steel core and the bright, stainless jacket steel. Not everything always goes as planned however, and figuring out how to marry the two dissimilar steels produced over thirty scrapped attempts before I had ten satisfactory blades. The first batch of ten welded up nicely, but once I started grinding into them, I realized that some of the carbon from the high-carbon steel had migrated out into the stainless jacket, leaving the edges soft in places. I put those ten aside, and in my next batch, added thin pieces of pure nickel between the jacket and core steel to slow down the movement of the carbon. I also experimented with different thicknesses of jacket and core steel to see if a thicker core would help the problem. However, once I solved the problem of carbon migration, I found that the edges of the blades were cracking during the heat treating process as the core steel hardened and the jacket stayed soft. After a dozen or so more failed attempts, I consulted Burt Foster, a fellow Master Smith who specializes in these kinds of laminated steels, and he helped me troubleshoot my process. Ultimately, I needed to make sure that the blade did not cool too much between quenching and tempering, and that small fix prevented the core steel from cracking. Once the steel was welded together and all ten blades were forged to shape and hardened, the rest of the process went fairly smoothly. I ground the blades to their final geometry, leaving some of the forge texture on the upper part of the blade for a rustic quality that evokes the warm environment of the Brooklyn Brewery tasting room. For the knife handles, Mr. Oliver and I settled on a Westernized version of the Japanese Wa handle: a gently tapered octagon of stabilized yellow pine with a spacer made from the copper flashing material that he provided. To complete the transition from handle to blade, I added a bolster of phenolic composite material for increased water resistance and durability. 
The Wakizashi Sword Commission
Once all ten chef knives were finished and fully sharpened, it was time to embark on the wakizashi for the ribbon cutting ceremony. Like many bladesmiths, I have long been fascinated with the Japanese sword making tradition and its surrounding mythos, but even thirteen years into my knifemaking career, I had still only ever attempted one traditionally-inspired Japanese blade: a tanto that I made as a commission in 2018. The opportunity to make a wakizashi for Brooklyn Brewery meant the chance to revisit my research into Japanese swordmaking, combing through photos in online museum collections, and rereading The Craft of the Japanese Sword by Yoshindo Yoshihara and Leon and Hiroko Kapp, which is a treasure trove of information on the traditional processes used by swordsmiths and related craftspeople. As I approached the Brooklyn Brewery project, I wanted the sword I made to preserve the traditional Japanese construction methods as closely as possible, while incorporating the decidedly non-traditional materials recycled from the old brewhouse. Having worked out the challenges of using 304 stainless steel on the chef knives, welding and forging the wakizashi blade went without a hitch. I used the same blend of materials as I did on the chef knives, however I opted for a more polished look on the wakizashi and instead of leaving a forge texture on the spine, I hand polished the entire blade to a near-mirror finish. Then it was time to move onto the fittings and handle components. An important feature on any Japanese sword is the habaki, or the copper collar at the base of the blade. The habaki helps to stabilize the transition from blade to handle, and it also allows for a snug fit in the scabbard that will not scratch the polished steel of the blade. Habaki are traditionally made of copper, which was convenient because that was one of the recycled materials I had on hand. However, the copper flashing I was provided was not thick enough, so I re-melted some of it into a small ingot and hammered it out to a piece of appropriate thickness, which I then formed into the habaki. 
For the tsuba (guard), the fuchi (front handle ferrule) and kashira (back handle ferrule), I wanted to add some visual interest to the materials I was given, so I decided to layer the copper together with barrel hoop iron and fuse it together to create mokume gane, a laminate material that would display a pattern much the same way as the pattern-welded steel that I make for so many of my blades. Copper behaves quite differently than steel, so after overheating my first billet of layered material and flooding the bottom of my forge with molten copper that leaked out from between the iron layers, I was much more careful with my heat on the second billet. Fortunately, the second one fused readily and yielded plenty of material for the three fittings I needed to make.
After grinding, drilling, and filing the tsuba, fuchi, and kashira to shape and after etching and blackening them to reveal the pattern, I began work on the wooden portions of the sword. The handle and scabbard are both made in a similar manner: a piece of wood is sawn lengthwise into two slabs, and the inside faces are carefully hollowed out with chisels, rasps, and scrapers until they fit the unique tapered geometry of the sword as closely as possible. Then the two halves are glued back together. The handle is shaped to fit snugly around the tang, so that the friction between the wood and the steel holds it firmly in place. The scabbard, however, is hollowed out such that it only contacts the blade on the spine and the habaki, to ensure that the blade can be withdrawn smoothly and easily without scratching it. After gluing the scabbard and handle together, I rasped and sanded the outside of each one into its final shape and carefully filled the ends of the handle to fit the fuchi and kashira. Then I drilled a tapered hole in the handle for the mekugi, or the bamboo peg that keeps the blade in place. 
Japanese sword grips are most often wrapped with stingray skin followed by a leather or silk cord. Because I was using recycled materials and I wanted to show the handle wood in the final piece, I decided to omit the stingray skin for this particular sword and simply wrap the silk cord, or ito, over the polished wooden core. I followed a tutorial by Cottontail Customs to make sure I formed all the knots correctly.
Satisfied with my work, I decided to test the finished wakizashi sword, and to my dismay, the kashira popped off the end of the handle and the entire silk wrap unravelled on the very first swing. It appears that the stingray skin traditionally used underneath the silk wrap actually serves an important purpose: to provide a coarse texture to hold the cord in place. Not wanting to compromise on my initial vision for the handle, I wrapped the grip a second time, including a little dab of glue under each turn of the cord. When the glue was dry, I took the sword outside once more to test it on a couple of tatami mats—the type used in sword cutting competitions. The sword sailed through the tatami, and the handle wrap stayed tight. I felt victorious.
The Conclusion A completed sword is a beautiful and powerful object to behold, and the plain wood scabbard seemed to beg for a more elaborate finish to match the rest of the piece, so I decided to try my hand at one more embellishment technique: painting. I consulted my friend Matt Venier, who has adapted his experience as a custom motorcycle painter to imitate the look of traditional Japanese lacquer work using automotive paints. Using his techniques, I layered different colors of paint on the surface of the scabbard to create a lively pattern, and once it was dry, I sanded the surface to a high polish. 
After polishing the blade one final time to remove a couple little scratches from cutting the tatami mats, I could finally unite the finished sword and scabbard. The scabbard slipped easily over the blade, the habaki creating just the right amount of friction to hold it fast and keep it from falling out. To draw it, a firm push on the guard with your thumb loosens it in the scabbard, and the blade glides out easily, ready to face your next opponent, or cut the ribbon for the grand opening of a brand new brewhouse.
Relevant Links
Brooklyn Brewery: https://brooklynbrewery.com/ Cottontail Customs: https://cottontailcustoms.com/tsukamaki/ Venier Forge: http://venierforge.com/Venier_Design_Inc./Gallery.html Burt Foster Knives: https://burtfoster.com/ If you would like to commission a culinary knife to your specifications, you can start the process by filling out my contact form and sending me a description of what you are looking for. About The Author Jordan LaMothe is a Master Bladesmith, a Fulbright scholar, a member of the Art Knife Invitational Show, and a teacher of knife-making. His work has won numerous awards, has been published in magazines internationally, and has made him a Forged in Fire Champion. At the end of the day, he makes collector's pieces, family heirlooms, and fine tools including culinary and outdoor knives for the kitchen and field. Comments are closed.
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AuthorJordan LaMothe is a Master Bladesmith, a Fulbright scholar, a member of the Art Knife Invitational Show, and a teacher of knife-making. His work has won numerous awards and has been published in magazines internationally. Archives
August 2026
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