From plank to finished piece.
Every Timbermere chopping board follows the same slow road — British-supplied hardwood, air-dried in the workshop, shaped by one pair of hands, finished in oil. This is the whole of it.
— I.Choosing the Wood
Every board begins at the rack, not the bench. Before a single cut there's a quiet stretch in front of the shelves — reading colour, grain and the contrast between one species and the next, choosing the boards that carry the right character.
It's never a board pulled at random. British-supplied hardwood, air-dried, picked by hand for how it will sit beside its neighbours. The finished piece doesn't exist yet, but every decision made here is already shaping it.
— II.Measuring the Timber
With the wood chosen, the idea takes on dimensions. Every pencil line sets a cut — the width of a strip, the proportion of the pattern, the way a dark timber will meet a lighter one.
It's a quiet stage and an exacting one: not just length and width, but planning the whole board so the grain and contrast are used deliberately. The character of the piece is laid out here, in pencil, before the saw is ever switched on.
— III.The First Cut
Plan meets material. The first cuts ask for a steady hand and full control — clean lines, square edges, each strip brought to an exact width.
These cuts set the rhythm of everything that follows. The pattern isn't visible yet, but its structure is already here, in a stack of prepared strips waiting to be arranged.
— IV.Arranging the Pattern
Back at the bench, the strips become a composition. Light and dark are laid side by side until the colours start to lift one another and a rhythm appears across the board.
Every piece can still be turned, swapped or nudged — the smallest change in order can settle the whole layout. It's checked by eye until the balance feels right; this is where the board's proportions and character are decided.
— V.The First Glue-Up
Once the arrangement is set, the separate strips become one panel. Glue is laid down, the strips drawn together, and the clamps brought up to even pressure across the whole width.
This is where the board's strength is built — a foundation you won't see in the finished piece, but feel in how it holds together. The contrast is already clear, the pattern calm; it's beginning to read as an object, not a stack of timber.
— VI.Levelling the Panel
Out of the clamps, the panel needs to be made flat. Small differences in height are taken down until the surface sits clean and true — a stable base for everything that comes next.
The pattern is there, but still being built. It's an in-between stage, the kind that barely shows in the finished board yet decides its accuracy: a flat panel and honest edges let every later cut land exactly where it should.
— VII.Recutting the Panel
Now the panel goes back to the saw. The glued strips are crosscut into fresh sections — the step that turns a striped board into something with real depth.
It looks like going backwards, cutting up work already done. It isn't. Each section will be turned end-on and rejoined, so the hard-wearing end grain faces up. The board is being carried toward its true construction, one deliberate cut at a time.
— VIII.The Second Glue-Up
The sections return to the bench in a new arrangement, rotated so the end grain stands up, and the chequerboard appears for the first time. These are no longer strips — they're a pattern with rhythm and depth.
This glue-up asks for even more care: not only strength now, but the alignment of the whole composition. Clamped square and left to set, the board takes on the end-grain construction it was always heading toward.
— IX.Thickness Planing
With the second glue-up cured, the board takes its true form but still needs refining. Passed through the thickness planer, the faces are brought down evenly until every square sits in one plane.
Each pass reveals a little more — the chequer sharpens, the surface cleans up, the contrast between the timbers grows. What felt technical a moment ago starts to look balanced, solid and properly resolved.
— X.The First Sanding
From the planer to the first sanding, where the still-raw surface is smoothed and the pattern reads cleaner. The marks left by the machines disappear and the grain comes forward.
It isn't the final softness — that comes later — but it's the moment the board starts to look like itself. The faces even out, the light and dark squares gain a quiet clarity, and the piece moves a long step closer to finished.
— XI.Routing the Juice Groove
A detail that earns its place: the juice groove, routed in a clean line around the top face. Small, but it's what makes a board as practical as it is good-looking.
The cut has to be even and well-judged against the shape of the board — the kind of line where a slip would show at once. It frames the surface, adds depth, and gives the board the feel of a piece made for a working kitchen.
— XII.Shaping the Hand Grips
A heavy end-grain board wants somewhere to hold. Recessed grips are routed into the sides — the point where comfort joins the craft.
The curve has to feel easy in the hand and stay in proportion, subtle enough not to interrupt the board's lines. It barely announces itself, but it changes how the finished piece is lifted, carried and used every day.
— XIII.Final Sanding
One of the most satisfying stages: the final sanding of every face and edge. After the cuts, glue-ups and routing, the board is worked up through the grits, finishing at a fine 220 — the point where the grain goes silk under the hand.
It's about touch as much as looks. The corners are eased, the edges softened, the last rawness taken off. The pattern reads calm, the proportions settle, and the board feels finished the moment it's picked up.
— XIV.Oiling the Board
Then the oil, and the wood comes alive. Two coats of food-safe oil, hand-rubbed in and the excess wiped back, a day apart. The colours deepen, the contrast lifts, and the pattern that had been quiet suddenly has richness and depth.
Oil isn't only for looks. It seals the surface and readies the board for daily use — and because nothing else goes on, a tired board can always be brought back to life with another coat at home.
— XV.Waxing
A last finishing layer: food-safe wax, worked in by hand. It doesn't change the wood so much as settle it — deepening what the oil began, drawing the grain out further, leaving a calm satin sheen.
It's a quiet finish, but the kind you feel. The wax adds another measure of protection and a smooth, almost silken surface. After every other stage, this is where the board becomes a piece that's ready to use and made to last.
— XVI.Finished Piece
And here it is — the board complete. What began as boards on a rack is now one piece: the chequer clear and even, the edges softly rounded, the juice groove framing the top, the grips waiting under each side.
The colours have settled, the grain has depth, and the whole thing feels made for years rather than for a moment. Not raw timber, not just a day's work at the bench — a finished board, built to be used and built to last.