Notes from a Spatula

I knew the woke mob would come for me one day.

Notes from a Spatula
Photo by Camila Vélez / Unsplash

by Tonya Riley


I knew the woke mob would come for me one day. First it was the tupperware you just had to trade in for a set of glass bowls with pastel lids. Then the scored and stained plastic cutting board you replaced with a bamboo one some trendy gift guide recommended. I thought the gas stove would surely be your next victim until you got the estimate to replace it from the appliance guy.

They say I may be leaching "chemicals" into your food. But what chemicals, exactly, did they mention? And would you really prefer a spatula that lights on fire instead? It's not like we can exactly trust the media these days, can we? And don't get me started on how it's somehow only utensils like me. As if your pink Paris Hilton branded baking set you got on clearance doesn't have its own issues. 

We've had good times together. Is there any other utensil you've had from your dorm days, save that one stolen fork that has somehow made it through three moves?  All those drunken omelets we flipped together. Quick dips into the crispy edge of the brownie pan before your roommate could sneak a bite.  Do you remember that frittata we made that one time after Todd dumped you? I didn't judge you when you mixed pesto with leftover kimchi or when you didn't wash me until three days later. If you really cared about the environment would we have shared so many juicy beef patties together? 

Microplastics get a bad rap but it's all branding. The curse of being a black sheep. Do you think your red dye sprinkles are any better? Or that the olive wood spoon you got at Crate and Barrell won't splinter any day? We all crack under pressure eventually.

I see you hesitate. There's still something there. Or maybe you've just realized you can't recycle me. The landfill would just make you a hypocrite. That's right. Store me away with the ricer and plastic bag of cookie cutters you only bring out once a year. I'll be here waiting to slide in and rescue you from a scorched pan soon enough.


Tonya Riley is a writer based in Washington, D.C. Her work has appeared in Maudlin House, fauxmoir, and The Cry Lounge. She is working on her first novel.