Cold Day - Dutch Oven
I'm no Julia Child. No Martha Stewart here. If you threatened to slap me in the face with a fresh salmon steak, I still couldn't tell you which onion you should use when. But I can bake a roast with all the rib-stickin' fixins that's guaranteed to make you let your belt out a notch. Sure, I use a packet of spices that comes out of... well, a little packet. But so what.
Onions, celery, potatoes, carrots and roast beef. These are the goodies that went into the new cast iron, enameled Dutch oven. I got a good deal at Sam's Club, the warehouse where you can get enough canned corn in one case to feed General Thurman's army until all the troops come home. Thirty years ago, I knew a German immigrant who treated her cast iron cookware like diamonds. She got an odd look on her face when she wiped them with a paper towel, as if she was getting a back rub.
According to wiki, George Washington's mother, Mary, specified in her will of May 20, 1788, that one-half of her "iron kitchen furniture" should go to her grandson and the other half to her granddaughter.
I'm not going to lovingly caress my new baking pan. It's just a utensil, and I have no emotional bond with it. It sure is pretty though!