![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Frying pan
We bought a new frying pan this summer, to replace one that had gotten badly worn. The new pan, rather than becoming seasoned properly, or simply staying clean (with proper treatment), accumulated cruft inside, and one evening filled the kitchen with smoke while ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cattitude was heating it in order to cook dinner.
Goodbye, new frying pan.
So I took out and washed an old frying pan that had been gathering dust. Old as in, my mother gave it to me when she emigrated in 1990. She gave it to me because I asked for it: this is the pan I fried mushrooms in when I was growing up. (It probably got used for other things—salami and eggs comes to mind—but I wanted it for mushrooms.) Cattitude doesn't like it, and not because he doesn't like mushrooms.
It's a moderately heavy enamel pan. Once upon a time it had a wooden handle, or so I'm told: by the time I remember it, that had disappeared, leaving less than three inches of hollow metal, which of course should be handled with a protective glove when cooking. The pan is heavy, and a bit awkward to lift, especially given the shortness of the handle.
None of this matters to me. I grew up with this pan, and it's one of the tools I learned to cook with. I just sauteed mushrooms for lunch, with a scallion and a bit of ginger. I was almost done when I realized that there should have been rice, a realization tied as much to memories of cooking rice and mushrooms as to the need for more food.
cattitude was heating it in order to cook dinner.Goodbye, new frying pan.
So I took out and washed an old frying pan that had been gathering dust. Old as in, my mother gave it to me when she emigrated in 1990. She gave it to me because I asked for it: this is the pan I fried mushrooms in when I was growing up. (It probably got used for other things—salami and eggs comes to mind—but I wanted it for mushrooms.) Cattitude doesn't like it, and not because he doesn't like mushrooms.
It's a moderately heavy enamel pan. Once upon a time it had a wooden handle, or so I'm told: by the time I remember it, that had disappeared, leaving less than three inches of hollow metal, which of course should be handled with a protective glove when cooking. The pan is heavy, and a bit awkward to lift, especially given the shortness of the handle.
None of this matters to me. I grew up with this pan, and it's one of the tools I learned to cook with. I just sauteed mushrooms for lunch, with a scallion and a bit of ginger. I was almost done when I realized that there should have been rice, a realization tied as much to memories of cooking rice and mushrooms as to the need for more food.