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When I bought my teeny-tiny, narrow rubber spatula, I couldn’t have guessed the impact this (less-than-an) inch-wide tool would have on my life. “What a frivolous, silly little thing,” I thought. “But also, how adorable. I must have it.”
Little did I know how much use I’d get out of this $8 spatula, which I considered a splurge for a single, small tool. Once I got it, though, I ended up buying a second one — as a backup in case the original was in the dishwasher.
It’s now been several years and I have yet to use that second spatula. Why? Because I use the first one with such frequency, it has to be hand-washed immediately. As in, it must be available at all times. In fact, having been at my parents’ house for the past month to help care for my sick mother, I have felt bereft and reminded of the spatula’s absence many times a day as I unconsciously reach for it to brandish, twirl, mix, and scoop. (Plus, I like the idea of having my backup waiting in the wings, should something go drastically wrong with first one.)
Whatever shall I use to stir soup with, without risking damaging nonstick coatings? How am I supposed to get every bit of pancake batter out of the mixing bowl? How will I scrape all of the yogurt out of its Costco-sized tub? And how much better would my sandwich have been if I was able to reach that last teaspoon of mayo in the container? It’s even the perfect tool for scraping out the flesh of an avocado.
I also think the spatula’s handle is a thing of grace — long and rounded so it’s comfortable to hold. It’s grippy without being rough or tacky. And it’s just the right length to get into any jar or bottle without getting your hands dirty.
Speaking of jars, it fits cleanly into the neck of nearly anything. The spatula hugs the curves of containers, jars, and bottles, bending to accommodate their shape. Because the edge is so thin, it gets nearly every bit of sauce, mayo, or mustard, leaving a clean swipe in its wake. Its edge is firm, yet flexible, too: Able to hold onto whatever I’m scooping up, yet bendy enough to get into corners easily.
Really, for as delicate as its wispy profile may seem, this spatula is actually hardy. It bears the scars of its use, now sawtoothed and jagged along what used to be a perfectly tapered, smooth silicone edge. Nevertheless, I can’t part with it, nor swap it for my backup spatula — not yet. It has so much life left.
Over the years, it’s become slightly discolored from turmeric and tomato, and its top pops off sometimes when I wash it too hard. (I have an older version, but the newer jar and shorter angled models fix this issue and don’t have any removable parts.) However, I don’t mind. To me, it’s still perfect.
And I can’t wait to get home and see it again.
Do you have a teeny-tiny spatula you love? Tell us about it in the comments!