I am François-Louis Toussaint. I design and make knives in Courpière, in the Thiers basin. FL Toussaint is the artisanal cutlery workshop that bears my name.
My journey did not begin in a cutlery workshop. It began in Nantes, in my father's workshop, who was an organ maker. It then went through business studies, a tour of France of apprenticeships between the Jura, Laguiole, and Thiers, then ten years at the Perceval Workshop, before setting up on my own in 2022. This page retraces this path, in order, with what each step taught me and what it left in the knives I make today.
Metal before the knife
My taste for manual work came to me in Nantes, in my father's workshop, an organ maker. There I discovered the rigor required by the transformation of material: in an organ, every piece must be precise, otherwise the whole sounds wrong. That demand is learned by watching work, long before holding a tool yourself.
My initial studies, however, directed me elsewhere, towards commerce. It was not a wasted detour: managing a craft business requires exactly that background, and I use it every day. But the need to create eventually asserted itself.
The trigger came from a report on a cinematic weapons craftsman. To check that this project was feasible, I did a first internship with the cutler Mathieu Callejon. It was there that my first knives were born — and that the question stopped being one.
Learn the cutler's trade
I then began a tour of France for learning. First, the Jura, at Lycée Ferdinand Fillod, for artistic ironwork and the basics of forging: heating, bending, striking, correcting. Metal has rules, and the forge is the best place to learn them. I obtained my CAP in Artistic Ironwork there.
Then Aveyron, in Laguiole, within the company Benoît l'Artisan, alternating with the cutlery school of Thiers. This dual placement brought me into contact with the two major French cutlery centers, with their own methods and cultures. There I acquired the basics of the trade, validated by a Cutlery CAP: preparing the pieces, grinding, assembly, fitting, mechanisms, finishing, sharpening. A lot of repetition. We repeat the same gesture until it becomes reliable, then we move on to the next one.
My first blades from this period bore my initials inscribed in Ogham, an ancient Celtic alphabet, above Scandinavian runes. A youthful detail — but it already heralded the stamp I use today.
Ten years of workshop and responsibilities
After my training, I spent ten years at Atelier Perceval, a cutlery workshop in the Thiers area. This experience, now completed, is the one that most shaped my way of working.
Making and understanding
I entered as a worker. Making things daily, on knives whose level of finish did not tolerate sloppiness, teaches something that nothing else can replace: to consistently produce pieces at the same level, not just to succeed in making a beautiful piece from time to time.
Gaining responsibilities
I climbed the ranks there until I became a project manager, developing several models, including Le Thiers®, Le Sommelier, and Le Vendredi. Designing a knife intended for workshop production requires thinking differently: a shape must feel good in hand, but it also must be manufacturable, adjustable, and finishable in a reasonable time, piece by piece.
What I took away from it
This period taught me quality management, design, and the industrial reality of a knife. Seeing behind the scenes gave me a broader perspective than just the workbench — and a finishing standard that I apply today to my own models.
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Nantes, the paternal workshop
Discovery of manual work with a father who was an organ maker, then business studies.
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First knives
Foundational internship with cutler Mathieu Callejon, after the trigger of a report on a cinema weapons craftsman.
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Tour de France of apprenticeship
Artistic ironwork and forging at the Ferdinand Fillod High School in Jura, then cutlery in Laguiole with Benoît the Artisan, alternated with the cutlery school of Thiers.
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Ten years at the Perceval Workshop
From worker to project manager. Development of several models, including Le Thiers®, Le Sommelier, and Le Vendredi.
- 2022
Creation of the Legoff Workshop
Starting his own business, under a name that honors his Breton origins: Le Goff, the blacksmith.
- 2026
Transition to FL Toussaint
The activity takes the craftsman's name. Legoff Workshop becomes a historical designation.
Moving from experience to personal designs
In 2022, I left salaried work to set up on my own and create Atelier Legoff. The name was a nod to my Breton origins: Le Goff, the blacksmith. The idea was simple — to put ten years of experience at the service of free creation.
Free, but not detached from reality. I am committed to the promotion of French knife-making heritage, and my research focuses in particular on regional styles and table and kitchen knives. My attention also extends elsewhere: knife-making is a global language, and I enjoy exploring its mechanisms and lines, whether they are traditional or futuristic. My geek culture sometimes emerges in this work, with more unusual designs where I indulge myself. Culinary and gastronomic use remains, however, the guiding thread.
The deepest change was not technical. In a workshop, you work as a team, on models that belong to a house. Independently, you carry everything: the design, the manufacturing, the choice of materials, the mistakes and their corrections.
FL All Saints in Courpière
In 2026, the activity returned to my own name: FL Toussaint. Atelier Legoff remains the name from the beginnings, and nothing more. This change directly connects the craftsman, his name, and his work — the simplest way to say who makes what.
My pieces are signed with a master’s hallmark, in the tradition of jewelers: a diamond surrounding my initials with, in the center, a carnyx, a Celtic war horn. It replaced the ogham of my first blades — the Celtic reference remained, the form has matured.
The workshop is located in Courpière, in the Thiers basin, where cutlery has been practiced for several centuries. Working here means evolving in an environment where the culture of steel is part of daily life, with its workshops, suppliers, and specialized skills. To discover the place and its equipment, you can visit the FL Toussaint workshop in Courpière.
I use the technologies of my time to serve this work: I draw and digitize each component, and I do my own laser cutting to start from bases rigorously conforming to the drawing. I say it openly, because I prefer to explain how my knives are actually made rather than maintain a comfortable haze.
What this journey changes in my knives
For me, a knife is above all a tool. I am wary of overused words — 'passion,' 'excellence' — and I prefer to talk about craft. A craft that requires integrity: a knife must be ergonomic, it must cut, and its heat treatment must be mastered and controlled.
The level of finish comes directly from the Perceval years: fittings, surface quality, inspection of each piece by hand before shipment. The know-how used in my work detail what these operations actually involve.
The choice of materials is selective. I have a deep affection for wood: the variety of its grains, its graphic richness, its feel. On the other hand, I limit the use of composites, often toxic to work with, and I deliberately stay away from ivory — beyond the uncertain supply chains, its monochrome finish seems poor compared to a wood burl or a local wood species.
The distinction between series and special edition pieces remains. For series models only, certain specialized operations, such as heat treatment or preparatory sharpening, can be entrusted to professional partners. Design, fitting, assembly, finishing, and inspection remain in the workshop, and special edition pieces are entirely manufactured there. The detail is explained on the page that describes the manufacturing steps of a FL Toussaint knife.
Finally, my knives are designed to be maintained and repaired. A knife that is used wears out; it must be able to be re-sharpened, adjusted, restored. This is the logical consequence of an entire career spent considering the knife as a working tool.
The rest can be read in the knives
From the organ-building workshop in Nantes to the workshop in Courpière, the line is continuous: learning the material, learning the trade, practicing it for ten years at the level required by a recognized firm, and then practicing it under one's own name. There is nothing romantic about it. Work, steps, and a standard of finish that is non-negotiable.
This journey is better verified than it is told. The simplest thing is to look at what comes out of the workshop today: you can discover my current work as a cutler for a presentation of the activity as it exists now.