My fish spatula is one of the few kitchen tools I can’t live without

Every time I hear the word “spatula,” from a deeply strange nook of my psyche comes “Spatula City,” a jingle and ad from the 1989 “Weird Al” Yankovic movie “UHF,” touting a faux big-box store that sells only one product. It is a mystery to me why this particular ditty reliably pops up (“Spatula City, we sell spatulas … and that’s all!”) when I can never remember, say, how to spell the word “restaurateur.” But there it is, every dang time.

Thirty-plus years after this earworm became fully lodged into my brain, I realize that, even if it existed, I would have no need for this silly, invented emporium. Heck, I don’t even need an aisle of options — because, for me, there is only one spatula to rule them all.

A “fish turner” — a.k.a. fish spatula — might sound like a ridiculously specific kitchen tool, like an avocado slicer or a cherry pitter. But it is actually one of the most versatile, useful tools in my small arsenal. It’s a workhorse that I use for nearly everything, not just seafood. The thin, angled metal blade with a beveled edge easily slides under any protein, helping lift it cleanly from the pan. Same for roasted vegetables, particularly potatoes. It scrapes up bits of cheddar that have escaped my grilled cheese. It flips pancakes. It’s great for moving cookies from a sheet pan or even serving pie. I’ve used it to scoop up fried foods, with the slots allowing the oil to drain.

The only thing it doesn’t do that a regular spatula might is smash burgers, because the perforated blade would make a mess of the beef. But for nearly everything else, it’s my go-to.

I like that the blade is slightly flexible but still plenty rigid, allowing me to both maneuver in a crowded pan and use the edge if I have to make an impromptu cut. The angled shape helps to get underneath whatever food I’m flipping or moving and feels intuitive to use.

I’ve had a few over the years, so I know they can vary in quality. I’m partial to my 11-inch Victorinox model (it now retails for $31), which feels sturdy and has lasted for ages — even though I defy the care instructions and regularly throw the wood-handled implement in the dishwasher. In an equipment-test video, America’s Test Kitchen recommended the 12-inch Wüsthof version ($65) overall and the similar MIU France ($27) as its bargain pick.

When ordering one, be sure to note whether the size listed includes just the blade length or the total of the blade and handle. I once accidentally ordered a shorter one and found it a lot less useful because the length put my hand too close to the hot pans I used it in. And if you cook with nonstick pans, of course, you’ll need a silicone or nylon version.

My fish spatula has earned its place on a very short list of essential cooking tools in any kitchen I’m working in, alongside a sharp chef’s knife, a pair of tongs, a whisk and a wooden spoon. At our last beach rental, with a typical poorly equipped kitchen, I found myself missing my fish spatula as I prodded a stubborn steak with the rounded, thick edge of a squared-off nylon impostor. (Note to self: Pack all five for this year’s vacation.)

I guess part of why I found “Spatula City” funny as a kid was the idea that caring about spatulas seemed like a lame, boring thing that stupid grown-ups did. And the tool seemed so trivial! But here I am, not only caring deeply about spatulas, but also expressing my fervent admiration for a particular one. I’ve come to agree with the spoofy ad’s entreaty: “What better way to say ‘I love you’ than with the gift of a spatula?”

Just make it a fish spatula, Romeo.