Hotfoot it

Don’t ask me why I feel the need to write about cast iron, but I do.  This may go down as the most boring post ever, but here goes… 

We are committed fireplace folk in the fall and winter, but there’s a thing about fireplaces as most of you know.  They look good, but most of your heat goes up the chimney.  I have no idea why it took us so long, but finally, we purchased a cast iron fire back to retain heat and radiate it forward.  It arrived last week.

   

We figured if the fire back is anything like my cast iron pans, we’d be good to go.  Any chef will tell you cast iron offers uniform distribution and tons of heat, which, ehem, reminds me of a story. 

Years ago, I asked my husband for a cast iron pan for Christmas.  By then, we’d been married a while and let’s say he knew me to be selective—okay—high maintenance, as it pertains to things kitchen related.  So, when he discovered the cast iron pan I was looking for cost about twelve dollars, he figured he must have got it wrong.  That year I received a lovely fry pan made of anodized something-or-other in which he invested a small fortune.  It was great.  But the next year, I asked for a cast iron pan again and squealed when I unwrapped one.  My husband tells that story a lot.  He finishes with the line, “I can’t believe that’s all she wanted.” 

 

In a way, I can’t either.  But when I was in an antique store last week and my heart lifted at a display of cast iron pans, I got it.  Cast iron speaks to continuity.  My grandmother’s grandmother probably used cast iron.  Pioneers perched cast iron cooking pots over open flames, and shoveled coals onto dutch oven lids to bake. Mothers passed their cast iron down to daughters. The metal is pure and sturdy.  Season it well and it will last your whole life. Season it well and it will last another generation, too. It speaks to things warmhearted, griddle cakes, cornbread drenched in honey, caring and love. If I were to give cast iron human characteristics, I’d use words like steadfast, loyal, even and true.  And man, does it get hot.

But, back to the fireplace. Since there are no embers left under the grate, no coals radiating, the first fire of autumn doesn’t throw much heat.  But the other night when I inaugurated the season with the new fire back in place, warmth emanated across the room. For once, I didn’t have to spend an evening with my feet under a down blanket in spite of the fire roaring in the grate.  And long after the flames died down the room remained toasty.

Ah, the simple things.  I love to cook with cast iron and now I get to sit in front of it too. The metal may conjure warmhearted attributes, but the dreaded winter is coming.  I'm pretty sure I'll be spending the next few months blessing it for its warm-footed qualities, too.