Cast Iron Skillets
When my Grandma passed in 2017 we didn’t have to endure the confusion and awkwardness of having to decide who got what. That weird thing that happens where people start calling dibs on jewelry, cars, sweaters…even homes after someone passes. We didn’t have to do that part. She had been extremely thorough and intentional as she approached the day of her departure. Naomi Hills-Geiger knew that she wouldn’t be here much longer and she knew how she wanted certain things to go when that day came. For that I (and I’m sure my Mother and Aunts) are forever grateful.
My Grandma gifted me with so much while she was here. Idioms and wisdom. Love, laughs and a familiarity and resonance that I haven’t experienced anywhere else and don’t believe I ever will. Support and summers of sleepovers that didn’t have an ending. A safe place to just exist and rest. She was and is a balm that words could never do justice. Majestic.
But my Grandma wasn’t your typical Grandma. She didn’t cook or sew that I know of. She didn’t watch soap operas or bake cookies. She drove a pick up truck and did yard work for the “elderly” people in her community well into her 60s. She played video games on her Nintendo 64 and watched sports and game shows. You could find her in her living room yelling at the tv on any given evening. Depending on the day she’d be yelling at Jeopardy, Family Feud, the Carolina Gamecocks, Serena, Venus or Tiger.
If she was yelling at Serena you’d better not yell with her, trust me. I once made a comment (in my youth, I’ve grown) about Serena’s infamous cat suit and how I felt it was “a bit much” for the occasion. She sharply responded, “says the one who wore a tube top dress to her college graduation.” Don’t come for Serena…she’d drag her oldest and favorite Granddaughter for that one.
If she was yelling at Family Feud be very clear that the black family was losing. If my Grandma was watching a game show and black folks were participating they’d better be winning. And if they weren’t she was LIVID. The disappointment and frustration would drag on long after the show ended. She was the epitome of “I’m rooting for everybody black.”
If she was yelling at Jeopardy the contestant was fumbling a history question. She taught High School Social Studies and couldn’t understand how people didn’t retain historical facts. This created an issue for me because I was awful at Social Studies. A perceived issue I guess…this was somehow less of a punishable offense than hating on Serena because she never held my Cs in Social Studies against me.
Don’t get me started on Gamecock Football. We all know why she was yelling. No shade, Go Cocks.
But this isn’t really about my Grandma in all of her unorthodox majesty. It’s about cast iron skillets.
If you grew up in the South…idk maybe this is just a black thing. Correct me if I’m wrong. But I grew up in the South and here most Black households have a Cast Iron Skillet. This skillet has normally been inherited from an ancestor and it’s an incredibly valuable piece in Black Southern Households. We do so much with Cast Iron Skillets. We cook steak, pancakes, burgers, cornbread, biscuits, veggies, fish…so much…and idk why but all of these things are better when they’ve come out of a Cast Iron Skillet. They just are. Don’t debate me and if you’ve had any of this out of the right Cast Iron Skillet you wouldn’t.
This brings me to my next point. You need the “right” Cast Iron Skillet. Because why is this inherited kitchenware so valuable? Is Cast Iron expensive? I mean kinda but not particularly. Is it hard to find? Nope, go to any store that sells kitchenware and you can buy some. The best steaks, pancakes, cornbread, etc. are made in seasoned Cast Iron.
According to Southern Living a seasoned Cast Iron Skillet is one that has a “protective layer of oil baked into the cookware’s surface to make the equipment durable, produce heat, and prevent rust.” From what I understand to season the skillet you are to wipe it down with oil several times a year and bake it at a gradually increasing temperature essentially sealing the oil into the surface. Additionally, it’s important to use little to no soap when cleaning your cast iron skillet. Only wipe it clean using water and maybe some kosher salt always ensuring that it’s completely dry before putting it away. Meticulous, right? Strange, yes? Yea. And I’ve always heard that it takes years to season a Cast Iron Skillet to get the desired results.
This brings me to me. In 2011 I got married and moved into a house and that felt very…mature. I remember wanting to do some “real cooking” and suddenly was aware of the fact that I didn’t have a Cast Iron Skillet and that I didn’t have a Grandmother who cooked. So I didn’t have a Grandmother who had a Cast Iron Skillet. And I don’t remember my Mom ever having one either. So it was very unlikely that I would inherit one.
Hear me out…I remember standing in my kitchen in Charleston, SC and KNOWING that if I wanted to have a seasoned Cast Iron Skillet…I was gonna have to season one myself. But I didn’t put one on my wedding registry and I didn’t use any of my wedding $ to buy one. I just…acknowledged that something I wanted that I guess I felt I should’ve been given I’d one day have to cultivate for myself if I’d ever have it. It’s not like I don’t make fish, pancakes, biscuits, cornbread, etc., I definitely do. Unlike my Grandmother I love to cook and I do it often. But I know for a fact this skillet would take certain dishes to the next level. And yet…I still don’t have one. Twelve years later. As I’m making a meal for myself and my babies I still often think, “ughhhh this would be so much better in a Cast Iron Skillet.”
Idk why I haven’t bought one yet. When I think about it I get really annoyed because if I’d bought one in 2011 it would be seasoned nearly to perfection by now. Twelve years of seasoning would make some bomb pancakes. I also can’t help but think about how I robbed my children of at least 12 years of seasoning that they would one day inherit. I know this seems dramatic but seriously…what else are we putting off getting for ourselves because we felt we were owed that thing from someone else? And who does our self denial indirectly impact?
Naomi Hills-Geiger granted me innumerable gifts and offerings. I’d never try to count them. And she didn’t owe me one. I owe me. I owe me pancakes with perfect buttery crispy edges. I owe me flakey blackened salmon. I owe my babies cornbread that tastes more like cake on a Sunday afternoon. I owe me decadence and satisfaction.
Decadence and satisfaction are accessible and if you’re wondering if we’re still talking about pancakes…kinda, but mostly no. We get to be more thoughtful about creating vessels to deliver rich experiences in our own lives. Vallori Thomas is the author of one of my favorite self help journals “Possibilitology”. She signed the book for me as she delivered my copy. I opened the cover expecting to read a warm message of love since we’re good friends. The message was loving but not…warm. “Zakiya- she waited a really long time to be rescued until the day came when she decided to rescue herself…it was a very good day.”
A sobering realization that for these dishes to have the decadence that I crave, I’d have to season my own skillet.
