You don’t need chef training to be picky about the tools you use in the kitchen. That goes doubly for when you might be called to someone else’s kitchen, whether that’s a family holiday situation or a rental property. If you’re cooking for the group — by coercion or self-nomination — you have every right to want to use whatever tools and gadgets make you most confident about the outcome. Especially when feeding a crowd.
I’m known to travel with cooking supplies and have even taken my cake pans across the Atlantic. In my defense, I was A) making a multi-tiered birthday cake and B) making it for my future siblings-in-law, whom I was meeting for the first time. My then-boyfriend, now-husband, is a great cook, it must be said, but cake wasn’t a regular part of his repertoire, and I didn’t want to take my chances with whatever might have been lurking in the darkest corners of his kitchen cabinets.
I used to travel to summer beach rentals with all manner of basic tools: tongs, a whisk, a rubber spatula, you name it, plus a fleet of knives, a good bottle of olive oil and bagged-up samples of my entire spice rack.
After a couple of years, I realized that most beach rentals, at least on the East Coast, were pretty well-equipped, and I was happier not having to schlep my entire kitchen to feel empowered to make dinner. I might stash a chef’s knife, just in case, but more often than not, even that would stay tucked in my bag.

There is only one tool, however, whose utility is so singular that it can’t be substituted, that, in my experience, is the key between a good dinner and a great dinner (and dessert) and that, surprisingly, you can’t always reliably find in other people’s kitchens.
My Microplane, myself

Yes, it’s a Microplane. If you’re now puzzling over how a handheld zester of all things is that important a tool, well, some of you have never enjoyed scraped-together key lime pie for breakfast at the beach, and it shows.
But seriously. There is no other tool that does what a Microplane does to the same degree. Using a paring knife to gingerly cut the rind off citrus fruits without taking the pith with you and then mincing that up? I’ve done it. Hard pass.

Don’t start with me about some cheap grocery store zester that manages to be both ergonomically overcomplicated and entirely ineffective. A box grater that you would typically use for cheese or carrots that has that one plane dedicated for zesting? Have you tried it lately? (Actually, has anyone ever? It just looks like a recipe for pulpy zest and bloody knuckles.)
Why the zester is an essential kitchen tool
Maybe your dubiousness isn’t so much the quality of the tool itself, but why any kind of zester is that critical? To which I challenge you: the next time you make salad dressing or pasta, enchiladas or pad thai, or anything at all that calls for citrus juice, add a hit of zest and see what that does to the outcome. Citrus zest adds several times the flavor, minus the sharp acidity. In a word, it adds vibrancy to whatever you’re doing, without the pucker. It’s a wow factor with the simplest execution. Not to mention: key lime pie for breakfast.

And the economics are inarguable. Even in today’s economy, a lemon or lime can only set you back so far, but it contributes so much. And the Microplane itself? Is all of about $18.
Here I am waxing all poetic about citrus, but let’s also talk about two other cooking champions whose processing is made infinitely easier by a Microplane. Garlic and ginger — also cheap yet dynamic ingredients. A garlic press is a fine thing, but if yours is as difficult to clean after use as most I’ve owned have been, ditch it. The microplane can do that work for you, and basically rinses clean afterward.

Or if you’ve been buying pre-shredded Parm or another hard cheese, here’s another taste test challenge for you. It’s so quick to just grab a hunk and shave directly into or onto whatever you’re making or eating, with the added bonus of leaving out the additional starches that act as anti-clumping agents in the pre-shredded stuff. I could also make a point here about freshly grated nutmeg, but that would be extra. Suffice to say, I never make béchamel without it.
Microplanes of a different color

If you’re convinced, I am partial to the Microplane brand here, whose handles are especially comfortable and which includes a protective sleeve for storage. Incidentally, you can also get a Microplane in over a dozen colors, and they are made in the US, if buying locally is a compelling argument.
If you’re already a Microplane evangelist and have made it this far, here’s an invitation to maybe upgrade yours. They don’t last forever, as the blades will dull over time. I recently switched out my 15-year-old model, and it has brought new life to my kitchen.
Pamela Vachon/CNETFor argument’s sake, I also checked out one of Amazon’s best-selling and least expensive models, the MasterChef version, which retails for only $10. It’s a little more generous in width, and its protective cover is admittedly a little easier to maneuver. Functionally, it works just like the Microplane, but is made in China for those keeping score.
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