RiverBender Blog: I Took a Blacksmithing Class

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Blacksmithing? Of all the things in the world? Why the hell would I do that? Admittedly, it was a shot in the dark.

To preface, I should say right now that gift-giving is not my strength. I think I’m pretty good at all the other facets of friendships and relationships, but I suck at giving and receiving presents.

So when I decided I wanted to gift my partner an experience rather than an item for Valentine’s Day, I was searching for something unique and stumbled upon blacksmithing.

On Feb. 14, 2025, my partner stared at me as I told her my plan. “It’s going to be so much fun!” I gushed. She raised an eyebrow.

Fast forward to last weekend, when it was finally time for our blacksmithing class. We drove out to Craft Alliance in St. Louis, near the Delmar Loop, dressed as instructed in long sleeves, jeans and closed-toed shoes.

I had no idea what to expect, but I put on a brave face for my skeptical girlfriend as we shook hands with the instructor and the other couple in attendance.

“Do you guys do this kind of thing a lot?” the instructor asked.

My partner burst out laughing.

“This is our first time,” I said.

He showed us the tools we’d be using and warned that it was possible we’d get burned, but we’d be okay. I nodded along to his instructions, trying my best to keep track of everything and hoping we would not get burned. My botched Valentine’s Day gift was already being met with apprehension. We could do without the burns.

As it turns out, blacksmithing was actually the best low-stakes test of our relationship we could’ve done, because we were working in pairs. Using tongs, my partner would remove a stick of metal from the fire and hold it on the anvil. I swung the hammer, flattening the metal down so it tapered at the end.

It took a lot of force. I’ll admit it, I know I’m not physically very strong. I tried to hide how sore and sweaty I was getting. It took us 15 minutes to do what the instructor had accomplished in four swings of the hammer.

“I am not having fun right now,” my partner whispered, only half-joking. Internally, I cringed. Outwardly, I chuckled like things were all going to plan.

We were making metal spatulas, so we vaguely knew what shape we were going for, but not much else. The instructor showed us how to fold in the metal to make a handle. I hammered, my partner held, and we both tried our best to remain patient with one another.

“Move that way,” I said. She shifted the metal the wrong way. “The other way,” I said.

Two minutes passed. “Okay, perfect,” she announced as I hammered. I smiled at her.

“Perfect!”

I hammered again, pleased that I was doing something right.

“PERFECT. PERFECT MEANS STOP.”

“Since when does perfect mean stop?!” I demanded.

“Since now!”

We stared at our crooked piece of metal and decided it had character.

The instructor showed us how to attach the metal rod to a flat piece of copper, which makes the spatula shape. Finally, with something recognizable, I felt incredibly satisfied. It was a little lopsided, with a few bends in the handle, but it was a spatula. And the best part was that we had done it together.

“We’re going to make so many burgers,” I told her. She mimed flipping a pancake.

Not only did our relationship survive blacksmithing, but we ultimately had a lot of fun. I am decidedly not going on “Forged in Fire” anytime soon, but I think our spatula turned out pretty good (or, at the very least, it’s probably functional).

I am, however, going to hit the gym, because I’m still sore from swinging the hammer. I think that’s a sign I need to build some muscle.

Print Version