HAND CURVED WOODEN SPOON

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And, though I'm not makin' any cash with my spoons, I still find this moody, low-technology occupation to be indirectly profitable.

You see, wooden spoons make great gifts. Most wives, sisters, mothers-in-law, bridesmaids, friends who cook, etc., are pleased to receive 'em . . . and then tend to reciprocate by doin' nice things for me!

Just think: You can spend those long winter evenings on the homestead (or in the apartment) makin' cost-free presents for your sister's nuptials in July, or for your mom's June anniversary. And, once the family's gifts are taken care of, you can stockpile enough samples of your personal handicraft to "open up shop" in the spring.

Of course, you might also want to make a few spoons to keep for yourself . . . and that's fine, too. You can use 'em in the kitchen for years and years, and then pass the "just broken in" utensils along to your grandchildren.

So. Why not carve a spoon or two? You just might start a family tradition!

THE SPOON AS AN HEIRLOOM

Almost the only thing I know for sure about the large hook-handled spoon—which appears in the photo that accompanies this article—is that it's one of our family's treasures.

My dad claims (with a glint in his eye) that the dipper "came over from Norway—steerage class—ridin' in a steamer trunk, shivered with apprehension on Ellis Island, and then homesteaded in Wisconsin".

Mom's story is probably closer to the truth (though not as exciting as Dad's). She believes that the fine old spoon was hand carved long ago by some ancestor on the family farm . . . "during the winter when there wasn't so much to do".

But two pieces of information about the utensil are pretty definite: It is more than 100 years old, and it was handed down from mother to daughter on my father's side of the family.

That wooden ladle has received good care from all the cooks who've used it, too. Despite its age, it sees action every day . . . and still serves up a mean bowl of hot chili.

Besides that, when I take the old spoon down from the wall—to oil or just admire it—I can see the faint blemishes left by my ancestor's tools, and I can sense the feel that that oldtime carver put into his or her work. Which, of course, gives me a standard to aim for, whenever I make one of my own wooden spoons.

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