Posted by: Patrice Fitzgerald | February 16, 2009

My husband likes big forks

We have a fork problem in our house.  We have some forks from my old set, some forks from my husband’s collection, a few from my husband’s late mother’s household, and we have some from my parents’ set.  Along with that are some random oddities acquired on camping trips over the years, when we had forgotten to bring the utensils, and bought the cheapest thing in Gorham, New Hampshire.  

Much to my surprise, my new husband has a different concept of fork size than I do.  In fact, the concept of fork size is foreign to me.  He likes a “manly fork,” as he puts it.  Something large he can heft in his hand.  My take on forks is that I don’t care.  I have not given any thought to fork size, the length of the handle, or the weight of the tines.  I don’t even care how many tines there are — and he feels very strongly that some are for dessert (or maybe salad?  I can’t even keep track) and some for “real food.”

This has led to a two-fork-size storage system.  The big ‘uns, and the small ‘uns.  Two compartments.  However — due to the fact that we have a grand range of fork sizes, it is very difficult to determine whether they fall into the big or the small categories.  It’s forking confusing.  So I am constantly standing at the kitchen drawer, holding up forks, and wondering whether my honey would consider them large or small.

He can’t tell me either, he just insists that the big ones are the good ones.  We have been married more than six months now, and this is the most earth-shaking problem in our marriage.

In my house, size does matter.  Fork size, that is.


  1. May I suggest something?


  2. What a great name for a restaurant! I like a big fork myself, if I can only figure out which ones qualify.

    I had a funny dream you were in — I’ll have to take it to email to describe it to you.

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