Food

For Fork’s Sake

I have a fork. I also have a slightly erratic, neurotic, obsessive, compulsive, demented mind. Not necessarily in that order.

But back to my fork.

Actually, to be completely accurate, I had a fork. I still, however, have a slightly erratic, neurotic, obsessive, compulsive, demented mind. And a tendency to digress.

Again, back to my fork.

I had a fork and now I don’t and it’s a problem.

fork-1

One of my forks, but not MY fork.

 

You see, once upon a time, I decided to leave my parents’ nest and venture out into the big exciting world on my own. So I did what every young person does when preparing to move out. I bought the essentials: a pot, a pan, some plates, and beer glasses. And cutlery.

Of course, over the years, I’ve added wine glasses and shot glasses and highball glasses to complement my collection of beer glasses.

But back to the cutlery.

My cutlery is pretty utilitarian. No frills, no etchings or platings or engravings or crystals or anything else. Just one end to hold onto, another end to stab, scoop or cut with.

Then a few years ago, my mom bought me a full-blown fancy-schmancy grown up comes-in-its-own-felt-lined-wooden-box type cutlery set with teaspoons and

Also one of my forks but not MY fork.

Also one of my forks but not MY fork.

tablespoons and serving spoons and tiny condiment spoons and forks for your meal and forks for your dessert and salad forks and – for the love of cheese! – just knives.

So I have more cutlery than I know what to do with. Except.

A few years ago, somehow, I ended up with a fork that wasn’t part of my utilitarian set or part of the fancy-schmancy set. An outlier, one might say. If one was inclined to make up words and claim they truly exist, that is.

Anyway, I don’t know where it came from or how it got here and I guess it really doesn’t matter. It was there, I used it. And it was perfect.

It was a deceptively simple fork, the not too broad handle tapering to a narrow neck that had a lone stripe etched horizontally across it. The tines were long, narrow and straight. It was solid without being too heavy.

Yes, I know I’m describing a fork in freakish detail. I did mention that I still have my slightly erratic, neurotic, obsessive, compulsive, demented mind, right?

The point is, as mysteriously as it appeared, it has disappeared.

My fork is gone. Gone. I don’t enjoy eating anymore.

You know what? It seems I lost my slightly erratic, neurotic, obsessive, compulsive, demented mind after all.

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