At the ripe age of 62, with a bustling household of seven in the quaint, pastoral settings near Lancaster, PA, and Amish country, I’ve witnessed a myriad of kitchen trends rise and ebb like the tides. Amidst these ever-changing culinary waves, one stalwart has remained unwavering in my kitchen—the venerable cast iron pan. “This pan,” I often quip to my brood of grandchildren as I impart family recipes, “will outlive us all.” And in these words, I pass down a legacy, much like my mother did before me.
The magic of cast iron is not just in its enduring nature but in the stories it carries—each meal a testament to its resilience. But those considering the allure of vintage cast iron must tread with caution. The past life of these culinary relics could harbor secrets, like being vessels for melting lead for shotgun pellets or crafting quaint lead figurines—once a popular pastime.
Quality is the cornerstone of cast iron, and Griswold Manufacturing, a name synonymous with excellence, reigned supreme from the mid-1850s to the mid-1950s. Nestled not far from where I spent my youth in Erie, PA, Griswold was more than a factory—it was a beacon of innovation, producing pans that today are treasured by collectors and cooking enthusiasts alike.
But the allure of cast iron extends beyond mere cooking—it’s a boon to our health. In stark contrast to modern non-stick pans that often release a cocktail of chemicals, cast iron infuses our meals with a touch of iron, an essential nutrient in our diet.
The ritual of maintaining a cast iron pan is akin to a dance—wash, dry, oil, bake, use, and repeat. Each step is a stroke of care, each oiling a layer of protection, much like varnishing a cherished piece of furniture. This process, akin to sanding between coats of paint, gradually fills the microscopic crevices, creating a flawless non-stick surface over time.
Before the flame kisses the pan, I ensure it’s warmed and lightly coated with butter. After the culinary act, while the pan still radiates with the heat of cooking, I introduce a splash of hot water, gently scrubbing with a copper pad. This method, if done with a careful hand, preserves the seasoning—the pan’s culinary armor. I eschew soaps and harsh detergents, instead favoring a touch of salted butter for a final polish.
However, not all oils are created equal in the realm of cast iron. Some oils, particularly those with low smoke points, can degrade under high heat, releasing undesirable compounds into your food. My go-to choices are butter or oils that remain solid at room temperature.
The resurrection of a cast iron pan, one perhaps forgotten or neglected, begins with a soak in a 50/50 solution of vinegar and water. Armed with baking soda, I wage a gentle war against rust, scrubbing until the pan’s original glory is restored. Then, coated with oil and baked in the oven, the pan is reborn.
Yet, the true companion of cast iron is not just in its use but in its versatility. From oven-baked delights to grill-charred masterpieces, from the simplicity of a perfectly cooked egg to the complexity of a blackened fish, the cast iron pan has been my culinary comrade for decades. Its durability, unmatched. Its ability to withstand any temperature, unparalleled. And its transition from oven to stovetop, effortless.
My parents, seasoned purveyors of cast iron, often ventured down to parts of Tennessee, where time seems to have stood still, and the old ways of cooking still reign supreme. There, they found joy in bartering and selling the pans they had lovingly collected over the years. Offering them at modest prices, they delighted in the happiness these pans brought to the rustic cooks of the South.
A decent cast iron pan might cost around $30, but its true worth lies in how you use it. Seasoning—a pan’s culinary soul—improves and deepens with time and use. My initial forays into cooking with cast iron were fraught with challenges. Frying an egg was a battle of wills between the pan and me. But as with any good relationship, time and persistence bore.
