After swearing that I would not buy another grinder, I bought another grinder. Temptation was too strong with this one. I would describe the condition here as mint, and this is straight out of the Fleabay box. I haven’t done so much as wipe the decades old dust off of it.
After a little investigation, I decided that the grinder was not mint–it was unused. The first clue was the state of the inside, working part of the grinder. There was not even a scratch on the grinding mechanism.
I put the grinder plate from our #22 next to the #5 for comparison. We saw a television show about a small sausage factory in Cambodia whose only machine was a motorized #22. (Pulleys are still manufactured for the #22 and #32. You have to provide the motor.) The #12, #22, and #32 are all bolt down grinders–The #5, #10, and #20 are clamp to a countertop models. The #5 is a much more practical size for weekly use in a kitchen.
Back to the final evidence for why this was unused–it couldn’t have been. I took the machine apart, to inspect the condition of the cutter. The cutter is the essential part for decent grinding. This cutter had not only never been sharpened, it hadn’t even been ground to the point to where it had a beveled edge. It was exactly as it had been cast. The best it could have done was to make bread crumbs out of toast.
Appropriately enough, I ground it on my hand cranked grinder. I then sharpened it with a diamond coated metal plate, then a hard Arkansas natural stone, and finished it with a truly hi-tech 3M micro-abrasive sheet, with a grit of 15 microns. I’m not a complete Luddite. Just mostly. I couldn’t work without WD-40, either.
At any rate, this thing is ready to grind, and I love bright shiny things as well. The new model of these–they are still being made–is around a hundred bucks, and has an (ugh) epoxy finish on it. Although I have sworn on the Picayune Creole Cookbook that I will not buy another grinder, it will be hard to resist one in this condition. Especially if it’s the same price as this was–$6.