THE FALL AND RISE OF THE GRAPEFRUIT SPOON
It was my grandmother who first introduced me to grapefruit. At that halcyon time in my childhood, I was becoming bored with apples and oranges and was ready for something new, a fruit that could stand up and bite back.
And so, with grandmother’s matchmaking, I began a love affair with grapefruit. I loved the tart taste. I loved how grapefruit went, oddly, with almost nothing. I loved how grapefruit came in its own carrying case and provided two servings per fruit. And after munching on the slivers of fruit from the half-shell, you could still drink the juice right from the carrying case (ok, I’ll stop with the “case” metaphor).
For me, grapefruit was a case of love at first slice. Think about it: “GrapeFruit”? “GirlFriend”? Both initials “GF.” Coincidence? Probably. But the real revelation to me was what my grandmother introduced me to next:
The Grapefruit Spoon!
To my adolescent mind this was a technological marvel. How it sliced effortlessly between skin and pulp, a little scooch right and left, then a perfect portion of fruit popped into the bowl of the spoon. I even discovered a number of other, practical uses for the spoon; more on that later.
Ok, you might say I have a thing for spoons…
Before I became a writer, I worked as a camera assistant on a documentary about Uri Geller, the self-proclaimed psychic who was famous, among other feats, for bending spoons with the power of his mind. On a lunch break from filming, Uri took a caterer’s serving spoon and rubbed it into a pretzel! So now the grapefruit and its eponymous spoon have joined Uri’s pretzel in my small Flatware Pantheon.
But, as you probably know, not everybody is onboard the “grapefruit express”…
It seems some folks can’t get past grapefruit’s astringency and, in later years, every doctor and/or medical advisor in the world would start warning us that we should NEVER have grapefruit because it interfered with the absorption of certain pharmaceuticals. You know, drugs that doctors were prescribing for us and receiving kickbacks from Big Pharma (another story, another time).
The GGA (Grapefruit Growers Association; there’s gotta be one) should file suit against the medical establishment for “restraint of fruit” or something. Lawyers are creative; they’ll find an angle. (Confession: I flat out invented the Grapefruit Growers Association; there isn’t one. There are actually four — Florida, Texas, Arizona and California — and they all belong to the Grapefruit Growers Exchange — hey, I was close. The GGE represents about 80% of all grapefruit in the world.)
Fast forward a few years and things soured between me and my beloved grapefruit. I recall our last time together — it was awkward; she said it was her, not me. Our farewell was as biting as her taste. Just mismatched in time, I suppose.
DEMISE OF A SPOON
And the grapefruit spoon that once occupied a vaunted space on the dining room table?…
What happened to the once-standard table utensil is rather tragic, as the spoon began its long and unjust demise in the flatware hierarchy. It deserves its own documentary on The Food Network: “Grapefruit Spoon: Nightmare Descent Into The Junk Drawer.” Which is where it ended up, invariably entangled with the cheese cutter in the shape of a frog, the ear-of-corn holders in the shape of ears of corn, the lemon squeezer, the brass beer opener your brother brought you back from Ireland, a micro-mini car — you get the idea.
In her fine article, “Grapefruit Spoon: A Short Story,” writer Lisa Malone describes the descent well:
“Simply tossed hastily back in the deep end of the drawer … This is where the least-utilized flatware goes to be even more underutilized … That’s when you know it may as well be over. Flatware Purgatory.”
Kinda sad really. Because the grapefruit spoon used to be really big in flatware. I can hear the grapefruit spoon now — “I’m still big! It’s the silverware drawer that got small!”
As my affair with grapefruit was in decline I, like the rest of the world, also left the grapefruit spoon behind, going off into my life filled with fast food and plastic utensils.
A FLATWARE ORIGIN STORY
But where did the grapefruit spoon come from in the first place?…
According to Flatware-apedia (there’s gotta be one), the grapefruit spoon, also referred to as an “orange spoon” or “citrus spoon,” was patented by Jack Yolles who must’ve had his own obsession with grapefruit. In his Patent Application, in Dayton Ohio, on Nov. 21, 1951, serial #257,506, Yolles proclaims:
“In a spoon, a bowl having a handle, a plurality of elongated tapered tines integral with the bowl and positioned at the front thereof and diametrically opposite to the handle, said tines being sharped on both edges…”.
I can hardly go on. Jack’s description brings a pang for my lost love; I resist the impulse to reach for a grapefruit Jolly Rancher.
There are earlier patent citings going back even earlier to 1908; my guess is that such a useful utensil probably predated the patents. Interestingly, there have been other single-use spoons on our dining tables over the years:
Demitasse Spoons — between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, like a little snowplow for foam.
Chinese Spoons — Sino phobic as that may sound to us today.
The Horn Spoon — actually made of horn and used for eating boiled eggs because the Horn Spoon doesn’t tarnish as silver would from sulfur in the yolk. Or for caviar, since silver negatively affects the flavor of the delicate roe. Using a Horn Spoon, for example, you will avoid both the tarnish and the off-taste of your appetizer of “Caviar Aux Oeufs” (caviar with poached egg). Sounds tres expensivo and just a bit fishy.
I learned other useful facts in my research. I won’t get into Absinthe spoons or Cocaine spoons in this family-friendly article. But did you know that a teaspoon is technically one-third of a tablespoon? The Tablespoon is a cooking measure of course, but also for eating ice cream out of the carton known to have zero caloric impact.
As Lisa points out in her article, such “unitasker” implements as the grapefruit spoon are looked down upon today. “Everyone wants a ‘multitasker’,” she writes. “The kitchen shops, even the lofty ones like Williams-Sonoma, don’t save room for specialized flatware.”
The emphasis upon multitasking in all areas of our lives has also led to such bastardizations in the flatware-verse as the “Spork” and the “Stroon” (a straw with a spoon on the end for eating slushies).
It wasn’t until years later that my estranged grapefruit and I crossed paths once again. Or rather crossed aisles in the grocery produce section. She was there with her half-sister, the pink one. In a rush we were reunited; all was forgiven.
And so it was that, flying in the face of the medical prohibition (also vaccine-hesitant here; don’t judge), I rekindled my love affair with grapefruit, buying a couple a week. I mean do the math: that’s four servings. At home in my kitchen and ready to consummate our reunion, I nearly sliced my thumb off using a knife to separate the fruit from the carrying case (last time, promise).
Which naturally led to rekindling memories of my grandmother and the Grapefruit Spoon (which will heretofore be capitalized). And what better way to celebrate our reunion than with jewelry? Silver no less!
So began my quest to replace my forgotten Grapefruit Spoon. And not tomorrow, but now!
By “now,” I mean NOT from Amazon Prime which would take an interminable two days. Turns out Bed, Bath & Beyond had them. Who knew? BB&B should advertise these priceless objects more widely, then maybe they wouldn’t have gone bankrupt.
I rush down to my local BB&B (while they still have brick & mortar store) to obtain the longed-for artifact of my childhood. So excited to obtain my prize spoons, I must’ve seemed to the cashier as if I was buying condoms.
The spoons came four in a pack and, yes, they were spooning. They appeared to be made of cheap sheet metal but to me they were resplendent, shiny, glistening, and yet also somewhat daunting, with those incisive tines at the tip. Since then, the three of us — me, grapefruit and spoon (four, if you count “Pinky”) have lived in breakfast citrus bliss.
But this, trust me, was just the beginning.
Over time, I developed a number of other practical uses for this crafty spoon. So, excuse my origin story worthy of a Marvel Superhero, because this was, in fact, the original point of this article.
Toolkit In a Spoon
As promised, and to repay you for reading all the way through, here is my short list of non-fruit-related uses for your Grapefruit Spoon. Use this for comparison; your actual uses may vary —
Vitamin Bottles — A bottle of vitamins usually comes with that impenetrable seal under the lid. And then you’re off searching for a knife, which is problematic (see “thumb” earlier). Or have you ever tried to just karate chop the seal Jackie Chan-style? Prepare to have a sore hand. The Grapefruit Spoon slices the seal perfectly.
Mail Packages — Mail delivery sometimes includes a “easy zip opener” that comes off in your hand and flies across the room. Again, Grapefruit Spoon to the rescue, cutting through paper or plastic without harming the contents of the package, or yourself.
Bubble Packs — Have you ever struggled with those hermetically-sealed plastic packages used for batteries and other common items? You can induce a hernia trying to open them. If you don’t happen to have a pair of kitchen shears (check Williams-Sonoma), then the Grapefruit Spoon is your weapon of choice.
Avocados — To bisect your average avocado all you need a good paring knife. However scooping out the fruit (yes, it is a fruit) is not so easy. Any attempt to peel them usually ends up in a mushy mess. Better to use the Grapefruit Spoon to effortlessly slide the fruit from the intact skin.
Microwave Meals — The instructions always tell you to punch a couple of holes into the top of your Banquet Turkey Pot Pie (I’m cheap; again don’t judge). A knife that will punch a couple of holes into the plastic seal will also likely punch holes into the bottom of the dish as well. “GS” to the rescue!
Breyer’s Ice Cream — A personal favorite of mine though feel free to insert your own favorite brand. With most half-gallon containers, there is this chastity belt of a seal around the lid. Your G-Spoon at the ready, you’ll be scooping your no-calorie Tablespoon into some Rocky Road in no time.
I’m sure that you’ll find your own uses for the mighty Grapefruit Spoon, which is why I recommend keeping it on your kitchen counter where, if you’re like me, you do everything from chopping vegetables to opening mail.
Soon you’ll be deploying your new weapon with confidence and skill. Perhaps a holster is warranted? There’s gotta be one!
Look for my next article in the series: “My Grandmother’s Button Hook,” coming soon!
