[This post was previously published in The Washington Examiner newspaper, April 6, 2005]
During the early years of my marriage, as my husband and I adapted to cooking and living together, we learned to share a tight kitchen space and limited list of equipment. The one item he would never touch, however, was my beloved cast iron frying pan, purchased at a hardware store in my days as a poor student. “You have a relationship with that pan, and I don’t want to come between you,” was his comment. Since then I’ve added many fine pots and pans to my batterie de cuisine, some of them fairly expensive. Yet all of them remain mere equipment, without the emotional aura of that beat-up, homely, black skillet. These days every retail outlet from Williams Sonoma to QVC sets great store by an upscale collection of brands: All-Clad, Calphalon, and Le Creuset among them. All of them make very fine pots and pans. But I’d like to put in a word for the kind of humble cookware that’s still made in much the same way it was in the 19th century.
Plain cast iron is unsurpassed for even heat retention and cooking without hot spots. When properly seasoned, it develops a non-stick surface rivaling that of Teflon while retaining the ability to get hot enough for proper browning (unlike Teflon). It heats up slowly compared with aluminum, copper or steel, but then gives that heat back evenly and at as high a temperature as you need for searing or frying. That means that you can sear a steak without burning it, cook perfect sunny-side-up eggs, bake a light crispy cornbread right in the skillet, or get your breaded catfish filets done to the ideal golden brown.
I admit that my pan is not perfect. Cast iron isn’t good for sauces or for acidic foods like tomatoes. It can rust if not cared for properly, and it is not for the fastidious cook: over-scrubbing can damage the non-stick properties of the surface. It’s really best if you can relax enough to overlook a bit of oil or grease left in the pan, which will keep it from rusting as well as preserving the silky surface you may have worked hard to achieve. That’s not to say you can’t clean it out; just that you want to stick to a swab with pure hot water and a soft nylon brush. No SOS pads or detergent, please!
It used to be that cooks guarded their cast iron cookware jealously, for the best seasoning could take many repeated uses to achieve, with frustrating results during the breaking-in period. One of my aunts still tells the story of how her teenaged son, asked to help with the washing up, diligently scoured her iron griddle clean of twenty years’ worth of seasoning. Thankfully, cooks no longer have to invest years to achieve good results. Now you can buy cast iron cookware pre-seasoned at the factory, and enjoy instantly the wonderful properties that used to take months or even years to fully develop. Try it, and you too might find yourself developing a sneaking affection for a homely (but oh, so effective) skillet.








[...] Last night we had vegetable soup and cornbread for dinner, one of my favorite cold-weather combinations. You’ll notice from the photo that this is yet another dish that’s best baked in my beloved cast-iron pan (see my blog entry about the pan from earlier in January). I’ve tried literally dozens of cornbread recipes because I love it so much. This is the standby, the one I always come back to. I’ve adapted it from a recipe in Dairy Hollow House Soup & Bread, one of my favorite cookbooks. Written by the unforgettably named Crescent Dragonwagon (a true hippie from wayback), my book is starting to come apart at the seams from too much love. [...]