Forge
The bar goes into the coal forge near 2,050 °F and comes out longer, thinner, and honest. Ten to fourteen heats to draw a blade — the steel tells you when.
Custom blades · Restoration · Small-run metalwork — Pittsboro, NC
Knives forged slowly, in small numbers, from steel we can name. Every blade leaves with its drawing.
Fig. 01 — a billet of 1084, cooling on the anvil. Move across it; steel remembers heat.
BILLET SURFACE — 2,050 °F
01 · Selected work
Every drawing below is to proportion, annotated the way the shop keeps records. Open a plate for the full spec sheet.
02 · Process
The bar goes into the coal forge near 2,050 °F and comes out longer, thinner, and honest. Ten to fourteen heats to draw a blade — the steel tells you when.
A 60-grit belt sets the bevel; a 400-grit finish decides how the patina will land. The grinder only removes — what remains is the knife.
Foil-wrapped, soaked at 1,475 °F, pulled into fast oil. The difference between a blade and a piece of metal is about four seconds.
Two hours at 375 °F, twice. Hardness you can trust at 59 HRC — hard enough to hold an edge, soft enough to forgive a drop.
Walnut scales drilled, pinned with brass, bedded in epoxy. Sanded to 400 grit, oiled, and the first edge put on by hand.
03 · Estimator
Honest numbers, computed the same way we quote at the bench. The band is real — steel and heat-treat keep their own opinions.
04 · Journal
Stainless steel is a denial of time. Carbon steel is an agreement with it. A blade of 1084 leaves here bright, and from the first onion it meets, the steel begins to keep records — grays, blues, the bruised purple of a wet night in a leather sheath.
“A patina is a ledger. Every meal, every rain, every pocket it rode in — written there.”
We force the first page: a warm vinegar bath, an even gray, so the later writing has lines to sit on. After that the blade belongs to its kitchen. Some owners wax it back to shine each spring. Most stop, once they see where the work happens.
Care is simple. Wash it. Dry it. A finger of oil before it goes in the drawer. Don’t grieve the marks — a knife that looks unused usually is.
Forging moves steel but never loses it; the bar that goes into the fire comes out the other side, rearranged. The grinder is different. It is the only honest aristocrat in the shop: it takes, and gives nothing back.
“The grinder only removes. What’s left standing is the knife you meant.”
There is a moment — scribe line lit blue, belt humming at two thousand feet a minute — when the blade stops being a sketch. Everything on the wrong side of the line goes into the dust collector, and no heat will bring it back.
Restoration is the same promise in reverse. Rust is just steel that forgot itself; we grind back to the line the first smith intended, and stop there. Knowing where to stop is the whole trade.
05 · Contact
Commissions are open through the summer. We take six blades a month so each one gets the fire time it deserves.
Tell us what you cut, how you hold it, and what steel you’ve loved before — the rest we work out together, usually over email and once in person.
We read everything ourselves. Expect an answer within two working days — sooner if the forge is cold.
Plate 01 — Spec sheet
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