The Granny Fork

My Nana had a fork that I will never forget (and my sister now has it since her passing, so if I ever need to see it, it's still in the family). It was a three-pronged, walnut-handled one. Not for eating, but for poking and stirring, nudging and flipping, all those things that a Nana does to food in a frying pan when standing at the stove. The handle and the hardware itself was worn and smooth. The handle had become shiny from years of hand-holding, the silver dull and spotted from water and scrubbing. I can only compare it to a timeworn relic pulled from a velvet pouch on Antiques Roadshow: every inch of it telling a story. When I think of Nana's fork, I see glistening, buttered new potatoes, dotted with parsley flakes and browning with the popping butter caramelizing on the bottom of the skillet. I see nuggets of browning beef cubes, dredged in flour, ready to be made into a casserole of stroganoff. I see Nana herself, aproned and perfectly coifed, a Kleenex tucked under her watchstrap, in a kitchen filled with family and food, always smiling or laughing, most happy surrounded by her loved ones and their appetite for everything she loved to bake and cook. I smell the memories, hear them, and taste them. And all thanks to a fork.

One of my favorite Christmas gifts this year was in my stocking from my parents. Lo and behold, my very own Nana fork. And wouldn't you know, it's called a Granny Fork. This one from Lamson Sharp, the oldest cutlery manufacturer in the United States. They have a whole selection of Granny utensils to choose from. As they describe them — "simple vintage kitchen gadgets that combine nostalgia and practical design." They run the gamut from paring knives to cake servers.

Don't you just love how memories of our deceased loved ones 

can live on in such a simple item as a fork.

I can only hope that someday my own grandchildren can find joy and love

in the little things I do and say.