I always wanted to work with titanium.
Most people may never guess it, but titanium is the perfect material to use on metal pans. It matches so well that you don't need to make the spatula clumsy by shrouding the handle with silicone or giving it any kind of handle attachment.
How can that be?
Won't it get hot and burn your hand?
No, it will not.
Metallurgy and science provide us with the reason that it won't: titanium, understand, has low-thermal conductivity - it is a poor conductor of heat. The blade of the spatula that maneuvers and perfects your chicken suprême in the scalding cast-iron pan will heat up, but the handle stays as cool as the martini in your left hand. You can simultaneously sip inspiration while your chicken sizzles and sweetly smokes to culinary perfection.
In college, I knew how to cook one thing well:
The humble plate of scrambled eggs.
At that time, we had a very slim, well-balanced spatula made of aluminum and stainless steel. That spatula, when you held it in your hand, felt absolutely perfect: perfectly weighted, perfectly balanced, perfectly sized. The blade was narrower than you'd normally expect. Looking at it, you'd have not necessarily thought this would be the perfect spatula.
But it was.
Its primary design feature was its curiously narrow blade. It gave this spatula swift maneuverability, a functional quality I'd never seen or imagined in any spatula, ever. Such mundane tools rarely deserve a second thought if they perform the required task without much resistance. Yet somehow I did feel passionate about that spatula. And so it was every weekend that I stirred, flipped, slid, folded, and served those scrambled eggs for my roommates and myself.
But then do you know what happened?
Tragedy struck.
After 3 months of protein-packed omelet mornings, the beautiful blade of that baby broke - it busted clean off the handle.
Having some shop experience and an inexplicable affinity for all things titanium (lightweight camp stoves, cups, and sporks) - I deliberated mightily over whether I could afford enough titanium to craft a replacement spatula.
I decided, at last, that I could. I could afford it.
Except I wanted my replacement to be one single piece - an indivisible unit - so that it would never break. And that, friends, is precisely what I've done here.
I've made a lightweight, functional, unbreakable tool - and it's as cool as the drink you're holding in your other hand.
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