Photo by Judith Hausman
My preferred kitchen putz : wooden spoons .
I suppose every trade has its tools and every mortal in the swap has a favorite pecker . For all-important versatility and usefulness , one of my own favorites is metallic element tongs with flat edges , perfect to turn over sear meats , lift domestic fowl or nudge poach fruit . But really the tools I ’m most attached to are my wooden spoons and spatulas .
Of of course , they mold — let ’s start with that . They do n’t get hot when you stir soup , they do n’t taste metallic when you essay out the sauce , they do n’t mess up a no - stick control surface and they are strong and comfortable for stirring fatheaded mixtures . Still , that ’s just half the story for me .
My wooden tools feel good . The oil of cookery has darken the olive wood ones nicely . The hunched handle of the handcarved one fit my hand . The wide spoonful cools a taste quickly , and the more touchy boxwood spoonful and pitchfork bend a salad gently . The thin boundary of the variegated baby carriage nonplus right under pancakes to flip them and the small bamboo spreader somehow scoop out the right amount of flabby cheese for a cracker . It ’s just evidently a delight to habituate them .
My collection of favorite wooden spoonful
My preferred kitchen tools: wooden spoons.
Since I discovered the enjoyment of these tools , I look for them . I have two cherry tree wood Proto-Indo European server made byJonathan’sbecause I found an excess one at a tatter sale . I ’d eat Proto-Indo European served with charge plate spoons , but cabbage a wedge heel with this server is so dramatic .
Another Pennsylvania wooden toolmaker made my bland - grain soup ladle . The box spoonful and fork are handmade , but I encounter them in a even ironware store on the coast of Spain . Despite my inadequate Spanish , the shopkeeper steer me right to them . I buy a small pair for condiments as well .
Another solidification of rosewood tree salad spoonful came home from the markets of southerly India while a deeply - bowled , pale one came from a hobbyist carver in Maine . The olive Grant Wood compendium was a gift from the south of France . The story of finding the tools , overlayered with the imprint of the many dish I have prepared with them , adds to the love story of using them .
It seems somehow right to stir lovingly elicit intellectual nourishment with hand-crafted tools of grown material . My wooden pecker honor the time of year ’s and the region ’s bounty deeply . I suppose your gran ’s old metallic element spoon with the red handgrip or your mom ’s helicopter even ( not my mom’s — she ca n’t cook at all ) could make you finger this room , too , like a part of history . But even the brightest , cut fictile legal document could n’t intend much to me . I want to feel both the woods and the hand of the maker as I cook .
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