My son-in-law is one of a kind - polite, genuine, funny, and
wicked smart. His transition into our family was seamless, which says a lot,
considering just how crazy we are. He is also, as we have discovered over the
last couple of years, an excellent cook. This is a good thing because the other
half of The Love Couple – First Born – is not exactly a fan of cooking. You
can’t blame it on genetics. I enjoy cooking, even if I do it more out of necessity
than an overwhelming passion for it. Spouse will occasionally chip in and make (most of) a
meal, but if it’s anything special I am reminded of how good it was for an
interminable amount of time. He made spaghetti sauce in 1986 and still talks
about it.
Last weekend, The Love Couple paid a visit to Maine and we enjoyed
some much-needed family time. During their stay I realized how seriously The
Groom takes his cooking. We had experienced a taste of his culinary delights last
Thanksgiving in Atlanta. This time he promised to make homemade cornbread and
guacamole while here in Maine. I tried to find out ahead of time what
ingredients he would need, but he insisted on picking them out himself. Fine, I
thought. I can understand that some chefs are quite particular about choosing
things like produce and spices. And then --
He brought his own cast iron pan.
That’s correct. Even though I had a cast iron pan that was
perfectly good, which he could have used it to make his delectable cornbread,
he chose to check a bag at the airport just so he would have his own seasoned
cooking vessel. Oh, and he also brought his own special-ordered grits.
We discovered it’s not avocado season when the Groom attempted
to make guacamole and almost broke the counter with the bag avocados he
purchased (apparently, he wasn't tipped off when he needed a forklift to put them in the cart). While he sputtered over trying to chop up pieces of green rock, Spouse, Second Born and I ran back to the store and found the only
five ripe avocados in Maine. The end result was an amazing guacamole that was completely wiped
out within hours.
Over the weekend this 50-don't-ask mid-lifer who has been
making meals for more than 30 years with considerable success (my lasagna is
especially noteworthy), was schooled in the art of seasoning a cast iron pan by
a 29-year-old. During this process I felt compelled to admit to several cast iron cookware infractions:
I’ve used soap and a sponge on my pan.
I don’t always dry it immediately after cleaning it.
I have cooked eggs in it. A lot.
In the world of cast iron cookware, these lapses of judgment
could end in disaster. My son-in-law wasn’t taking a chance that my pan may not
be seasoned properly or the appropriate weight for his cornbread recipe. He was
correct - it wasn’t seasoned, but isn’t one cast iron pan the same as the next?
Oh no, I learned. Different manufacturers and different eras meant different weights,
as faithful cast iron users know. The Groom researched them, read reviews, and
eventually found exactly what he wanted on eBay, not Wal-Mart... like some of us
may have done.
Because I was never going to get around to it, I took him up
on his offer to season my large cast iron pan. This method involves applying and
reapplying oil or grease (in this case, bacon grease) to the inside and outside
of the pan, then baking it at 375 for about 45 minutes… I think. All right,
honestly, I wasn’t fully paying attention except for acknowledging this was
the one week in Maine where you did not want to have the oven on for any length of time.
My son-in-law is trusting me to use kosher salt to clean my
pans going forward. I didn’t make any promises but it was with a sigh of relief
that I unearthed kosher salt in the cabinet, thereby proving that my intentions
were good.
I can’t let him down even though technically he showed me up.
That cornbread was like a little slice of heaven. I will accept that someone
younger can still teach me a few things… but I guarantee I’ll be doing the
schooling when it comes to using a lasagna pan.
