Well-Seasoned Memories
EDITOR’S LETTER I did not grow up in a family with a collection of cast-iron pots and pans. I purchased my first piece, a twelve-inch Lodge skillet, during my stint in New York City with my now wife at a hardware store at Ninety-Seventh Street and Broadway. I had come home from an offshore fishing trip with a haul of yellowfin tuna, and Jenny, as always, knew exactly how we should cook it. (Rub the tuna with cumin, coriander, cayenne, salt, and pepper. Drop it in a smoking hot skillet for a quick sear. Serve in chunks in taco shells with avocado salsa.) That was seventeen years ago, and that skillet still rests atop our stove—having handled everything from buttermilk biscuits to venison burgers. Though we’ve since added to our…
