IN PRAISE OF CAST IRON

I lugged a great load of iron across the United States when I moved in the summer of 2003. I gave a couple of pieces to my brother (one of very, very few people in the world to whom I would bequeath cookware), and one big piece I entrusted to the care of my brother-in-law. I am emotionally attached to my cast iron. It comprises a major part of my cookware.
I got my first cast iron skillet 11 or 12 years ago, I think. It is Lodge’s model 5SK, 8 inches in diameter. I was a silly college student; I partied a fair amount and put assignments off until the last minute. I did not, however, fail to lovingly care for my skillet. I suppose I was weirder and more introspective than the average college student. I was fiercely critical of the fraternity system. I was a moody poet. I didn’t get laid much. I did, however, like to cook. Therefore, I was curious about cast iron. Cast iron is just right for a weird, proud, obsessive-compulsive hobby cook like myself.
Cast iron is ancient. The Chinese were making it in the 6th century B.C., and it was all over Europe by the 15th century, give or take. Thus, it is not exactly a new-fangled item. Mankind has had a bit of time to get familiar with it.
Cast iron is heavy. In many situations, heavy is better. It feels good. It feels strong and enduring. It feels like you’ve gotten your money’s worth. Cooking is a situation where heavy is usually better.
Cast iron is inexpensive (mostly). Unless you get the enameled stuff, cast iron cookware is pretty cheap. I have a number of Le Creuset enameled iron pieces, mostly orange. It’s great stuff, but I got it on sale because it’s costly. It’s beautiful and functional, and I have so far avoided the dreaded cracking due to temperature shock. The coating is borosilicate glass, so it’s completely nonreactive. The rest of my collection of iron is all made my Lodge. I wouldn’t have such a large and varied set of cookware if I tried to use all stainless steel or anodized aluminum. I have a bit of those, of course, but only as needed. The most I have ever paid for a piece of cast iron cookware (unenameled) is $40 or so for my wok.
Cast iron lasts. I’ve seen cast iron skillets at flea markets and garage sales, and it’s never worn out. Sometimes rusty, but I haven’t seen anything beyond repair. Once, and only once, I saw an iron skillet at the store with a crack in it. It must have been dropped. Generally speaking, you have to try hard to destroy cast iron. I haven’t done it yet. It helps to either have roommates who respect your cookware or no roommates at all. Many a Teflon skillet of mine has gone to an early grave because of ignorant roommates who feel the need to turn the burner all the way up and/or scratch the hell out of it with a fork. Assholes. Iron is pretty forgiving, however. The first thing I ever gave my wife, back when we were dating, was a cast iron skillet (a Benjamin & Medwin, purchased at Lowes Foods in Winston-Salem, NC). Romantic, huh? She didn’t have one in her tiny apartment kitchen. Her roommate, whenever she actually dealt with dishes at all, put the skillet in the dishwasher. It rusted, of course, but I steel-woolled it and re-seasoned it back to life. It’s a good skillet, and our grandchildren will get it.
Cast iron looks good. It’s like blue jeans. Always in style.
Cast iron works. It holds a great deal of heat. Nothing excels it at searing, and I have set off the smoke detector numerous times doing so. My massive iron wok attains massive thermal majesty. Thunderous frying. It is also unparalleled at releasing heat slowly and evenly. I braise pork shoulder or boeuf bourguignon for half a day in it. I have one particular piece, Lodge model 8CF, which is the only pan I ever use for risotto and red pasta sauce (a simmered Bolognese style usually). Once you become familiar with the output of a particular cooktop, it works beautifully. I have a griddle that has been indispensable for grilled cheese sandwiches, bruschetta, and pancakes for years.
Cast iron is undesirable and frustrating if you are stupid, negligent, or impatient. This aspect appeals to the snob in me. Who doesn’t like to be part of something exclusive? If you have no interest in learning or in taking the time to do things right, then you have to pay the money to go out to eat. Or eat crappy food. Or starve to death. You don’t deserve good food. It’s quite simple.

Yes, I’m kind of a dick. I’m also weird. However, I have a lot of fun cooking, and you can think whatever you like.

Take a look at lodgemfg.com