As Much Personality as a Wooden Spoon

My Amish friend has a wooden spoon at least 24 inches long.  The bowl of it is proportionately sized to the handle: you could eat a proper helping of Special K from it.  The first time I saw it in Dena's kitchen, I asked her, "What do you use a spoon that size for?!"  And she replied, "Oh, I use it for big batches of spaghetti sauce."  And I thought, my GOODness, you must need a stepladder to reach into a pot that matches that spoon!

I love kitchen stuff.  Certain kitchen stuff.  Not 'gadgets' but simple, effective, trusty things.  All of my utensils are separated into two containers: wooden spoons, ...and everything else. 

When I get to the Farmers Museum at Cooperstown, I go into the Todd's General Store and splurge on a $5 spoon carved from cherry.   (I also get a handful of old-fashioned peppermint sticks for the children.  These they eat in a moment, and forget all about the pleasure of it.)  I go home with my new wooden spoon and enjoy the prolonged pleasure of breaking it in.  At first, I'll sort of save the newest spoon for cleaner tasks, and keep it out of the tomato stuff, but eventually, the spoon honeymoon is over, and it's no more favoritism.  I have a collection of old friends now, and each tells something about my daily life.  Depending on the handle's length, each spoon is slightly bent towards the middle, a reflection of the nature of wood when submitted to routine pressure.  The spoon bowls are all wearing on the left side, from dragging around the pot as I stir right-handed.  Some are for 'sweet' and some are for 'savory' so that muffin batter never tastes of onion.  You have to think of these things, using wooden spoons.  One spoon is shorter, and I grab it for the bowl that fits biscuit dough.  Another with a very flat bowl is ideal for working muffin batter, almost like a paddle.   ("Use no more than 15 strokes," said my home ec teacher in 7th grade.)  I have a wooden spoon that beats eggs: they just sort of roll around and around the spoon like it was a whisk.  Then I have a wooden spoon whose wide bowl and longer handle give just the right leverage for getting a turkey out of the roaster. 

I don't buy a set of wooden spoons all at once - that's entirely the wrong way to go about things.  I hate prepared sets - of just about anything.  If it's pots and pans, what do I need with a 1-qt. saucepan...I have eight people to feed!  And if it's utensils, I never use a pasta spoon with the measuring hole in the center.  A spoon with a hole drilled in it is....irrational.  But a wooden spoon with a hole worn in it would be...romantic.  'Look what a long, useful life I've had.  I was the favorite, reached for every day and used for all kinds of tasting.'  To buy the set is to fall for the hook, line, and sinker.  You had to get the ones you didn't want in order to get what caught your eye.  It's related to making the purchase necessary to get the attached freebie.  No, choose the spoon.  Lift it and feel the heft of it, the balance, to make sure you are getting equal substance in the bowl and the handle.  Look for a beautiful grain, so you have something to admire while you stand at the stove for the ten minutes it takes to bring custard to the rolling bowl (close to 20 minutes for a double batch).  A kitchen is a necessary place to be, so everything about working in it should be as comfortable as possible: is the spoon handle too long?  This is not a standard thing, but the height of a counter and a stove usually is.  Think about which muscle groups are going to be overworked (or maybe you want to work them for the first time!) if you have a spoon that long or that short.  If you don't have short, shallower mixing bowls, you don't want that short-handled spoon; the worst thing is when a spoon handle falls down into the mix.  And so on...but see?  you choose the spoon.

The testimony of a favorite wooden spoon:  bent from the hand's pressure, warped from standing upright in the spoon crock,  nicked from the company of kitchen knives in the dish drain, bowls misshapen, edges frayed or softened with friction, stained, spotted, thinned out by their work in sustaining life.  Not worn out, but well-seasoned by all the wear.  By all the ministry.