My dear dad came from money, which was lost due to a financial swindle back in the dark days of the early 20th century. As a result, he lived in a council house but had known a more gracious way of living. Hence he had very strict ideas about cutlery, tableware, manners, etc. and at the age of 11 I was often taken out and about by him on a Saturday. He loved going to the Baker Bar, a greasy spoon in Stevenage old town, but also took me to a posh cafe in nearby Hitchen, where I first learned to eat a cream slice (flaky pastry and all) with a fork. As a result, my family, children and grandchildren accept it is necessary to use a fork for cakes of all kinds. Don't think this is posh, just a way of avoiding sticky fingers!
Yet when my sister-in-law asked for a set of pastry forks, her husband and his family treated her with scorn and derision. Needless to say, I bought her a set with china handles for her next birthday, and she was really chuffed! I don't know if she has ever used them, or whether she has a crafty cake in the small hours, sitting alone with her pastry fork!