My wife said that we needed the large cast iron pot washed to sear some steaks. I told her that I would handle that. I confessed to her of my relatively newfound joy from hand washing, hand drying, and seasoning cast iron pots with some type of oil. I told her that it was actually more of a slow burn of interest, growing gradually over time, as I was taught to respect the cast iron, if only subconsciously.
She gave me an awkward glance, but quickly said, “Okay.” As if to say, whatever, just wash the damn thing.
I inherited multiple cast iron pots that went to my mom after her mom passed, then to my dad after she passed, then to me after he passed.
That may sound like quite a long time, but it was all of 6 years.
I’m not exactly sure when or where the pots were bought, made, or where the lineage begins.
However, the thought of a pot being handed down from generation to generation is admirable and fascinating to me. The fact that is looks almost as good today, as is did upon it’s production day, is a true testament to hard work and care that is few and far between in todays society and current work ethic. Generally speaking of course. But…
I guarantee, a goddamned t-fal set will never last over 200 years.
Gloomy Forebodings 