while combing through my photos this morning, i came across a picture of a very high end spork that my husband and i encountered last month at ducasse’s spoon restaurant in paris. i was surprised and oddly delighted to be eating a parisienne interpretation of the new york cheesecake with a utensil that is most commonly associated these days with prisons, pre-packaged meals, and the economizing of utensils at take-out counters (or is that just ducasse’s subtle jab at americana?), not to mention the fact that this was by far the most decadent spork i’ve heretofore encountered in my life.
perfectly weighted, polished and with a hand feel that said more spoon than fork, i suppose it was genius conversation piece at the end of a very chic meal, where i found myself simultaneously contemplating the texture of the cheesecake while debating the functionality of a spork and its political and cultural symbolism. who knew that a humble utensil could overshadow the dessert it was supposed to accompany? i left spoon with a good chuckle at the end, which i suppose is the best sort of aperitif.