It’s right up there with duct tape and needle-nosed pliers. My number one most indispensable piece of kitchen hardware is the “S” hook

If I were asked to give a speech extolling the virtues of this organizational wonder, I could. Afterall, it was I, who in grade nine gave a 10 minute speech on Hadrian’s Wall. Not exactly a stellar moment in my public speaking career, but I passed. Only proving that nothing shuts me up! This is why I find it strange that some people don’t even know what an “S” hook is and even stranger, how they manage without them.

It was probably Jordan who first introduced me to this useful piece of metal, shaped—Surprise!—like the letter S. I was having problems hanging some ladles off the fan-hood over my stove, using this tiny hole that was never intended for hanging anything from in the first place. It just seemed like a convenient place at the time. He suggested an “S” hook, which he thought he might have in a tool box somewhere.

He managed to find several unopened packages; I guess these are the sort of things that men pick up when at Home Depot, just in case they have an “S” hook emergency. He had several sizes; one which was perfect for the hole I was trying to work out of. There, I had my ladles hung. And then, looking around the kitchen, I discovered all sorts of spots to hang an “S” hook, creating dozens of places to hang everything from colanders to herbs to kitchen towels. I became obsessed with the “S” hook.

I am quite sure that these standard, S-shaped hooks, which come in a variety of sizes and materials, often galvanized steel, were originally intended for purely industrial purposes. Apparently, they are used to join two “O” rings or “D” rings—I realize that this may sound like a lot of gobbledygook—or two sections of chain together.

In their stainless steel form, they found their way into commercial kitchens to suspend pots, pans, and cooking ladles off baker’s racks or overhead pot racks. In the meat-packing industry, sharp ended ones are used to hang up something I don’t care to think about. You would have to admit, a very versatile little item.

But they also make for the perfect, improvised hooks in the home, hanging off everything from towel racks to curtain rods. They can be hung from other hooks and eyes that may already be in place, but are themselves too small to hang anything from.

            It was some time after this that I discovered the designer version of the hook. Artistically wrought of iron and available in speciality home and house ware shops, it of course cost several times as much as the generic hook. That was immaterial; now I could enjoy visual appeal as well as function. I began to replace the plebeian version with these far more aesthetically pleasing ones.

            And then suddenly, it seemed that everywhere I went they were out of that particular hook. This was dumb; why couldn’t they keep something this critical to good housekeeping in stock? But it seemed to be a universal problem; from Nanaimo to Victoria. Where was I to find more?

             Using the swift logic that I am known for, putting two and two together, (although this does sometimes add up to five in my life) I thought: wrought iron=blacksmith; I just needed a blacksmith who could duplicate these hooks.

            It was just a year ago that we had needed the help of a good blacksmith. We had a very heavy, antique garden sink that required a wrought iron stand to sit on, and we called on Roger Ferland.  What we ended up with was a beautiful yet functional piece of yard art. Perhaps he could make me some “S” hooks.

             Not a problem. In a few days I had a dozen, which will last me a few months or at least until I find other scathingly brilliant ways to use them.

            This brings me back to why I mention “S” hooks in the first place. I was recently browsing though a country style living magazine and admiring a fabulous country kitchen. They had used an antique wrought iron gate suspended over their island to hang antique pots, watering cans, and colanders from. The whole kitchen was antique, except on closer look I noted that the “S” hooks they were using were the generic, commercial ones.

            Tsk, tsk, people; you’d better get out and talk to your local blacksmith.