Those are the defects of my cast-iron pan. One other is that sizes much greater than ten inches are hard to lift. (And by the way, the size of a skillet, the diameter, is measured at the top outside edge of the pan, which is illogical because you cook the food inside the pan. The difference comes to at least an inch. The fabricators of pots and pans shortchange us by 10 percent or more. Where are the government regulators when we really need them? The IRS, the NSA, the NLRB, the FISA Court?)
But cast iron possesses lots of impressive virtues. For one thing, cast iron is really inexpensive. It’s just pig iron, after all. A 10¼-inch skillet from Lodge (a very popular brand) sells for just $15.92, or $24.74 if the pan’s been preseasoned. (More about that before very long.)
Cast-iron pans are incredibly sturdy, nearly indestructible, even when exposed to high heat. I’ve heard tales of pans that crack or warp, but none of mine have ever misbehaved like that. So it’s usually safe to buy a cast-iron pan at a flea market or garage sale (in those parts of the country where, I’ve read, everybody has a garage). Just make sure that rust hasn’t eaten clear through the cast iron.
Cooking in iron pots and pans can help combat anemia, and as one article in the Journal of Nutrition put it, “Anemia resulting from severe iron deficiency (ID) is the most prevalent and widespread nutrition-related health problem in infants and young children in low-income countries.” So iron pans (or iron inserts) have been distributed in rural areas of the developing world. This strategy can be quite effective as long as home cooks don’t revert to their lighter old aluminum pans. To read more about this, you can turn to page 23 of the January/February 2014 Atlantic.
Cast-iron pans are nonstick. But this is true only after your pan has become extremely well seasoned and well worn, as mine is. A pan gets to be well seasoned through care and effort. Here’s how to season: When you buy a new cast-iron pan, wash it with soap and hot water, dry it and put it over high heat to evaporate residual water, let it cool, coat it liberally inside and out with vegetable oil or rendered animal fat, and put it over your highest heat, way past the oil’s smoke point. Remove it, let the pan cool, wipe off visible oil. Use it for a light cooking job, then season it again. The longer you cook with it, the better it will perform. Once a pan has been well seasoned, you may fearlessly boil water in it. After a year or so, you’ll forget all those neurotic warnings about handling and cleaning your cast-iron pan. But never give it a full-strength steel-wool-plus-dish-soap cleaning unless you intend to start seasoning all over again. If you do buy that old pan at a flea market, wash it vigorously with hot water, steel wool (even scouring powder), and strong detergent. When it’s clean and smooth and shows no sign of rust, season it as though it were a new pan.
One of cast iron’s deficiencies—its slowness to heat and cool—is also a great virtue. It’s favored for deep-frying because its temperature won’t vary as easily as that of an aluminum or stainless-steel pan, even in recipes that have you start with lots of cold butter or a cold batter (such as our skillet corn bread).
If, on a foolish bet, you are forced to use your cast-iron pan for cooking everything, you’ll soon find an infinite number of new uses for it. One day I tried a roasted-cauliflower recipe, then remembered how much I adore cauliflower, went immediately to my very favorite cooking site, food52.com, and launched into a shameless weeklong cauliflower binge. We loved Dan Barber’s golden cauliflower steaks; a wonderful, burnished whole-roasted cauliflower; Paul Bertolli’s cauliflower soup; and a cheesy cauliflower gratin—all of which will surely become lifelong companions. As will all the other delectable recipes I’ve already told you about—now in _Vogue’_s digital edition and posted on Vogue.com.
For more from Vogue, download the digital edition from iTunes, Kindle, Nook Color, and Next Issue.