It was upon receiving one of my friend Jur’s knives — a superb hunting knife by Pekka Tuominen dating from 2012, forged in Silversteel and fitted with a handle incorporating walrus ivory — that I felt compelled to turn my attention back to Pekka Tuominen.
People often ask me: who is Pekka?
Consider this, then, a renewed portrait.
Because in Finland, a knife is never just a knife.
And the snow is never just the snow.
In the deep boreal forests where autumn means moose season and winter hardens the earth into something resembling iron, blades are not judged under showroom lights but against bone, sinew, cold, and time. It is in this demanding landscape that Pekka Tuominen has built his reputation — quietly, methodically, without spectacle.
He is not a factory. He is not a brand machine inflated by marketing departments and limited drops. He is a craftsman in the most literal sense of the word. And among serious Nordic hunters, his name circulates with a particular, understated respect.
Pekka’s relationship with knives began before memory. His grandfather, a part-time blacksmith, forged blades; his father worked as a carpenter. He received his first knife before the age of five. For him, the object was never exotic — it was elemental.
As a teenager immersed in scouting and outdoor life, he reached a simple conclusion about survival: the most important tool in the wilderness is a knife. Naturally, in Finland, that meant a puukko. At eighteen, he studied in Inari, in northern Lapland, training as a wilderness guide. There, he learned the fundamentals of puukko making. That period marked the true beginning of his craft.
A decisive intellectual influence came earlier, when he first read Sakari Palsi’s 1955 book Puukko. The text, he recalls, opened his eyes. It clarified what truly defines a puukko — not ornament, not material excess, but proportion and line.
For Pekka, a knife unites tool, design, and art in a single object. He cannot imagine life without one.
I have written a long review here about it.
Ask him to describe his ideal puukko — as a user rather than a maker — and he returns to simplicity. A blade of approximately 90 millimeters, paired with a 110 millimeter handle. Dimensions rooted in tradition, refined by use. Multipurpose, balanced, restrained.
He appreciates steels such as 115CrV3, often referred to as Silversteel, RWL34, and 52100. Yet he insists on a hierarchy that reveals the seriousness of his approach: the steel matters, but heat treatment matters more.
He is no rigid purist. One of his own heavily used test knives pairs stabilized black ash burl with a CPM S30V blade. He admits to having “wrongly” used it — and to grinding it down repeatedly as a result. For Tuominen, a knife that remains pristine has not yet fulfilled its purpose.
In an age of aggressive silhouettes and theatrical grinds, Tuominen defends restraint. A true puukko is defined by a relatively short, straightforward blade; a handle without finger guards; no exaggerated pommel; and clean, continuous lines that flow from tip to sheath.
He favors birch bark for its warmth and grip, but also works with curly birch and Micarta. His sheaths are hand-stitched, typically from vegetable-tanned leather. He admires traditional Finnish patterns — Tommi, Pekanpää, Kokemäen — whose differences lie more in decoration than in structure. The essential design language remains consistent across regions.
“The material does not make a puukko,” he says. “The design does.”
In Finland, the word puukkoseppä carries weight. It does not describe someone who merely grinds blades. It denotes a professional who forges, heat treats, shapes, finishes, and sews — who understands the knife as a complete entity.
Tuominen forges Silversteel and 52100, as well as his own Damascus from 15N20 and 1090. Stainless steels such as RWL34 are ground rather than forged. In every case, he performs the heat treatment himself.
This decision is not romanticism. It is control.
Heat treatment determines hardness, toughness, edge retention, resistance to chipping, sharpening behavior — in short, character. By managing austenitizing temperatures, quench timing, temper cycles, and when appropriate cryogenic steps, he tunes each blade for hunting reality rather than laboratory extremity. He does not chase maximum HRC for marketing appeal. He pursues balance.
The difference is felt not in specifications but in seasons.
One Finnish hunter wrote on a forum, after two moose seasons with his knife, that he had done nothing more than strop it. A Swedish outdoorsman described the sharpening behavior as clean and predictable, “no surprises.” The praise is never flamboyant. It is consistent. Stability, reliability, endurance.
While many outside Scandinavia associate Finnish craft primarily with the puukko, Tuominen’s strongest following among experienced outdoorsmen is tied to his dedicated hunting knives. These are not nostalgic reinterpretations of folklore. They are instruments designed for skinning and field dressing large game in cold climates.
Their geometry avoids ego. Clean drop points, disciplined grinds, carefully judged balance. No theatrical belly, no tactical posturing. In hand, they feel neutral — and that neutrality becomes invaluable during extended work. Fatigue diminishes. Control increases.
In sub-zero conditions, poorly treated steel reveals itself quickly. Edges chip, roll, or turn brittle. Tuominen’s blades are repeatedly described as stable. It is a modest word, but in the field it is decisive.
Finland formalizes its craft traditions through national qualifications overseen by the Ministry of Education. Tuominen earned the title puukkoseppämestari, Master Blade Smith, after passing rigorous examinations and presenting a master’s work to a jury. At the time of his certification, only seven craftsmen in the country held that distinction.
Today, knife making occupies the vast majority of his time. His waiting list extends roughly a year. Collaborations, including work with Spyderco, have broadened his international presence. Yet when asked about ambition, his answer remains almost disarmingly modest: he wants to become a better knife maker.
He considers craftsmanship a lifelong education — one in which imperfections are not failures but invitations to improve.
In a global knife culture increasingly captivated by spectacle, Pekka Tuominen’s work stands apart for its restraint. He works alone. He grinds, heat treats, shapes, and stitches himself. From blade to sheath, the knife remains under one set of hands.
He often summarizes his philosophy with a line that sounds simple enough: a simple man makes simple knives.
In Finland, however, simplicity is never simplistic. It is discipline. It is proportion. It is respect for the task at hand.
And in the forest, that is what endures.
Pekka’s site: https://pekkatck.fi
More articles about Pekka: HERE
It has all started when I wanted to review the Spyderco Gayle Bradley Junction. It’s a great design for an EDC fixed blade which can be used for everything. Easy to carry in its pancake constructed bolteron sheath. But the edge was just too thick for my own use. 
To my knowledge, SPF27 is some kind of CPM D2 steel. A lot of carbon 1.5% and not a lot of chromium around 12%. Not the easiest on the stone as a semi stainless. It was not very soft under the diamonds compared to another blade in N690 HRC59 I got with me. And it was not really easy to remove the shoulder to create a gentle convex edge. Patience… In sharpening is important. And I often lack of it but I was able to improve it. 
Next some black stone mostly to remove the scratches. 
And then the white ceramic to get a better finish and a razor steel. 
You can notice the chamfered signature hole on the Junction. A première. The cuts were deeper. It was better! Much more enjoyable. 
But the spine was too sharp for my thumb and diamonds came handy to rounded the angles. It would never be a Sebenza spine…. 
Again the control during whittling was much much better. One should never be scared to round the edges for suiting your own needs. 
The handle is very flat on that knife. It’s an attention for people who wish to stash their knife in a pocket or a backpack without leaving a print. 
But a flat knife is not the most comfortable in the palm of your hand… Especially when cutting hard things for a long time. 
I decided to make a quick comparison with the Spyderco Sprig which is a pleasure to use. 
You can notice how the Phil Wilson’s Sprig got a thicker handle. And it change everything when cutting hard things. Also Phil Wilson’s is all about performances. Its geometry is stellar. 
It immediately cuts deep in wood without any real improvement needed…. 
But diamonds were there to be usef. 🙂 
I was able to get thin regular cuts into the wood. So I have decided to try the diamonds on the Gayle Bradley Bowie I have brought with me. This one got a thicker geometry and is made if the same pulverized alloy as the Junction 
You can always improve an edge. 
Used as a light chopper it worked just fine. 
Gayle Bradley has provided a great compact Bowie which can be used as a light camp knife. 
You can see: it’s not a lot bigger compared to my Ed Chempp Bowie. 
And the edge once thinned is honorable. 
Of course it is not as thin as my Pekka Tuominen Urban II for example. And not as aggressive as the Sprig… 
I got…. too much knives on my table… 
An Francesca knows how to prepare the pasta with pomodori. 
Crostini a la Toscane. Poultry liver, oignons, red wine, bread and a Bowie. 
Back in the outside I was thinking of a simple way to see the “impact” of good geometry on whittling. On the right, a single cut if the thin Delica and, on the left, a single cut of the thicker 
Also the Delica was able to cut from the ricasso to the point without any hard pressure. In the end, I had noticed that the Junction was less good than the Sprig and the Delica was still the best whittler in the batch. No matter the steel, for wood cutting, geometry is queen. So I have taken my Bowie back to the diamonds and put a keener edge. Tomorrow it will be hunting day. 
NemoKnivesReview 
