Some years ago, we had a lovely wooden spoon – it had a thin head and a long handle, and when I wanted that spoon, it was exactly the right spoon. One day the handle split; Pete mended it with sticky stuff, but it was never the same, and it broke again – with great sadness, we consigned it to the place where wooden spoons go to die.
I was stirring the soup this morning, and was yet again reminded of how much I miss that particular wooden spoon. I have 8 or 9 wooden spoons – some of them have long handles; some of them have thin heads. None of them has both.
Whenever we see a new kitchen shop, we rush in and rummage through their wooden spoons – thus far, we remain disappointed.
It’s all so sad.
note: the spoon in the illustration is nothing like the lost spoon.