Riddonkulous

From my bowl, I gift you food With my handle as your guide, I help you churn the restless My stem keeps the hand safe, or is a punishment for the wicked My flesh and bones are crafted with the finest ivory, rock, wood, or precious stones, You can even improvise my body I'm a unit, an instrument, a method of measurement I am one of your oldest tools And quietly now, I lay nested in the heart of your home