This post contains bacon. You know you want to read it.

I’m working on restoring my great-grandma’s old cast-iron pans, which are nearly 100 years old.  I inherited a big skillet, a little skillet, and a Dutch oven.  The Dutch oven has tiny specks of yellow paint on it, because apparently my grandma kept it on the stove, and my grandpa once painted the kitchen ceiling without moving the pan.

Unfortunately, the pans had been sitting for a while before I got them, and they’ve been sitting ever since, because I didn’t really know how to rehabilitate them.  I finally did some research.  Apparently the process involves scrubbing the rust off with coarse steel wool until my arms fall off, then cooking something fatty and dead in them until they’re seasoned again.  I’m a vegetarian, so I don’t generally cook fatty and dead things, so this is a stretch for me.  I picked bacon, thinking that would be the least icky thing.  Now my entire house smells like smoke.  Dead pig smoke.  Also, the angry dead pig splattered hot grease all over the place, including my hand, and it freakin’ hurt.  I’m amazed the smoke detector didn’t go off (Note to self:  That’s probably bad.  Test smoke detector later.).

You bacon people are crazy.  I’m sticking to broccoli.

DISCLAIMER:  I’m not actually a judge-y vegetarian.  Meat isn’t for me, but I don’t care if you eat it.  My husband eats it.  My kids eat it (well, if nuggets and fish sticks count).  I’m only posting this because apparently I need to wait for this bacon grease to cool before I pour it in a cup to get rid of it.  I figured I’d use the time to write a blog post about it, because if there’s anything I’ve noticed about the internet, it’s that people love to talk about bacon.  My theory is that the word “bacon” is apparently a guaranteed traffic generator.  So I’m testing this hypothesis.  I probably should have used this time to steel-wool the next pan, but I’m pretty sure I can’t move my arms anymore.  The first pan took 45 minutes of hard scrubbing.  This totally counts as my workout for today.  So now I can go to Kopp’s tomorrow, where the flavor of the day will Super Bowl of Custard (chocolate frozen custard with a rum caramel swirl, chocolate covered peanuts, chocolate chips, and roasted almonds).  You know why they call it that?  Because it’s the SUPER BOWL OF CUSTARD.  For real.  Take that, bacon.

DISCLAIMER ON THE DISCLAIMER:  Kopp’s didn’t pay me anything for mentioning them.  In fact, they charge me every time I go there.  Shouldn’t they be giving me free custard or something?  Geez.  Freeloaders.

Photo by Olddanb

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