I kept forgetting to ask my brother Michael before he died if he had “inherited” the big old cast-iron skillet that was the backbone for our family meals.
Ma used that pan long before I was born; we all used it daily for years and years. It was about 14 inches wide, deep black, so heavy we had to lug the hefty thing onto and off of the stove. I told Ma I wanted that pan, but somehow I didn’t get it. I did, thankfully, inherit the orange carnival-glass Kool-Aid pitcher, to this day a prized artifact from my childhood.
Michael had his talents, but cooking wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t boil water, so I have no idea why he’d want a frying pan. His wife, if I recall, preferred Teflon pans.
Throughout the past 30 years, I have purchased cast-iron skillets, but every time I’d get discouraged and give them away because I could never manage to “season” them properly with oil and oven heat. I’d follow directions, but what resulted was a tacky, sticky surface about as appetizing as fly paper.
Recently, I decided, “OK, one more try.” I bought a 14-inch Lodge-brand skillet. After doing Internet research on ways to season (everybody has their own “foolproof” ways, go figure), I decided to try a stovetop method. First, I heated the pan on high flame until it was extremely hot. I put a teaspoon of vegetable oil in it and then, using a fat wad of paper towels, I rubbed the oil all over the inside of the pan. I turned down the heat to medium and let the pan sit there until it started smoking. I let it cool awhile, then used another wad of paper towels to wipe it thoroughly, repeatedly, getting rid of any trace of excess oil. To my satisfied surprise, it worked. A surface smooth and slick. It worked so well, in fact, that I bought another cast-iron skillet, a 12-inch one. Like Ma did, I store both of them in the oven where the warmth of the pilot light keeps them nice and dry.
“Seasoning,” by the way, forms a bonded surface onto the pan, caused by a chemical reaction of the highly heated oil and the iron. The more one uses the skillet, the more the protective patina builds up, creating an excellent frying surface.
If there is any such thing as a tried-and-true kitchen “friend,” it’s a cast-iron skillet. They’re just the thing for searing-browning meats and crisping potatoes. The pans can be placed right into the oven for cooking. They will last for a lifetime and then some.
They do, however, need some pampering. I re-season mine after every use. Eventually, I might not have to, after using them many more times. But, for now, yes, I wash the pans, then season as described above.
There has long been a tug-of-war about how to clean a cast-iron skillet. Some people just use hot water, a dish cloth and/or nylon bristle brush – no soap. The thought of a soap-less wash turns me off. I use mild dish soap, hot water and a Scotch-Brite sponge pad (the one with the yellow sponge side and the green mild abrasive side). As soon as the pan is well rinsed, I immediately place it on the stovetop and do the re-seasoning process – takes about 10 minutes. And the main reason I keep re-seasoning it is because the soap and the scrubbing probably erode the patina a bit. But in a year or two, once the surface is durably, strongly bonded, I’ll season it only once a month, at most. The skillet I grew up with we washed with soap every day, and it was just fine. We also never once had to re-season it. Cast-iron pans really do get better with age.
Two drawbacks, though: It’s easy, at first, to grab the handle without thinking, without using a pot-holder. (Ouch!) Second, you can’t use acidic ingredients in them, such as tomatoes, because the foods can develop a tinny taste. And third, a cast-iron pan can rust, so dry it by heating it on the stove right after washing. Then keep it very dry.
In these days of trendy gimmickry and cheap gadgetry, a good old-fashioned cast-iron skillet is the real McCoy – practical, solid, a friend for life.
