cast iron skillets

We have a neighbor who retired not long ago, and he's taken up fishing as a hobby. He heads often to Truman Lake with his boat, and on his return he shows up at our door with a generous amount of catfish, dressed and ready to fry. I roll it in Louisiana Fish Fry coating (the New Orleans style is our favorite), and we pig out. Yum.

Notice the black cast iron skillet on the right. That's one I inherited from Cliff's youngest sister when she was down-sizing her household goods. She got it from my mother-in-law, and who knows how long she'd had it. I have a smaller one that my mom gave me when I got my first apartment. I'm sure I stirred gravy in that skillet when I was barely tall enough to see over its edge. I used to have a huge skillet my mother-in-law gave me, many years ago. Once my kids grew up and left home, I seldom used it; so I gave it to my daughter, who has strict instructions to keep it in the family.

Did you know cast iron skillets really do contribute iron to your diet? And that if you keep them properly seasoned, they're almost as non-stick as Teflon? True, you can't toss them in a dishwasher, or use scouring powder on their insides... but I love them. And I love this quote from the esteemed Doctor Hannibal Lector:

"Look into the skillet, Clarice. Lean over it and look down. If this were your mother's skillet, and it may well be, it would hold among its molecules the vibrations of all the conversations ever held in its presence. All the exchanges, the petty irritations, the deadly revelations, the flat announcements of disaster, the grunts and poetry of love.

Sit down at the table, Clarice. Look into the skillet. If it is well cured, it's a black pool, isn't it? It's like looking down a well. Your detailed reflection is not in the bottom, but you loom there, don't you? The light behind you, there you are in blackface, with a corona like your hair on fire.

We are all elaborations of carbon, Clarice. You and the skillet and Daddy dead in the ground, cold as the skillet......."

It's history, I tell you. When I use my Wagner cast iron skillets, I'm holding history in my hands.

No corn bread tastes as good as that made in a cast iron skillet; the crispy, dark-brown crust on the bottom...

Well, now I'm wishing I had some corn bread for breakfast! I'm going to go get in the hot tub before I drool all over my keyboard.