no zealot like a convert

I have refurbished a cast iron pan. I am enamored!

My mother-in-law gave it to me. It's a Griswold [brand] 8 [size], made probably in the 1930s or -40s.
   It looked terrible. Crusty, really rusty. I didn't know half of the markings on the bottom were there; they were crusted over.

I was whelmed with trepidity at the prospect of restoring it. Yet I wanted to cook my steaks — from my cow, you know? my lovely cow? — this way, in cast iron.
   And this pan was my chance.
   To get over the daunt, I tried to prepare myself to restore and maintain the pan. To that end I bought a piece of chain maille. (It's beautiful, I'm in love. I want to be draped in chain maille.)
   Using the Ringer, half a German Butterball, and some Himalayan salt, I worked the rust off.

I finished it Sunday. I used it for the first time yesterday — bacon. This morning I used it first for potato crisps in yesterday's bacon fat and then for steak.

T-bone for two!

I am really so proud of myself. I have set this pan to rights.
   I've sometimes see acquaintances' blog posts about their refinished dressers or tables. They're glowing with pride. I understand that now.
   Dull rust --> shiny black!

I'm satisfied and improved. I love to work to make it easier to do the other work I do to make the things I want. I swear it's easier to make great crisps in cast iron!