One kitchen item I can’t live without is my 12-inch cast iron skillet. Just writing those words, I can smell my mother’s famous spaghetti sauce simmering away in her cast iron skillet on a cold winter afternoon in Pittsburgh in the 1950’s.
So when we took a post-surgery dinner to friends, and I wanted to make sautéed zucchini and tomatoes to go with the flank steak I had marinated, I called to make sure they owned such a skillet. They didn’t. So I brought ours.
Other friends brought the appetizers and dessert. They don’t own a cast iron skillet either. But everyone gathered around the stove to watch me sauté the garlic, add the sliced zucchini and later some tomatoes, and top it all off with freshly grated parmesan cheese. Browned to perfection, the dish was the hit of the evening.
Will the others rush out to buy a cast iron skillet?
I don’t think so.