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Don’t be fooled: I’m no chef.
While I may be Food Network‘s most faithful follower, I’m pretty much lost without a recipe. I also tend to balk at the idea of creating a mess in the kitchen, which my cooking inevitably requires. So a home-cooked meal from yours truly is. . . well, a special occasion.
But, dear friends, I love my cast iron skillet.
Years ago I saw an episode of The Pioneer Woman where Ree very matter-of-factly declares, “Cast iron will never leave you, nor forsake you.”
What a comforting thought.
And, of course, she’s right.
So as I worked my way through a particularly gruesome sinkful of dishes yesterday, I thought to myself: I want to live a cast iron kind of life.
I mean, think about it:
Cast iron ain’t playin’ no games.
Cast iron isn’t fancy.
It does its job consistently well, and asks for very little in return. (Just a little wipe and rinse will do.)
It withstands the heat;
it could break your jaw;
and it is here to fucking stay, love.
May the same be said of me, Dear Reader. (I’m not about to break any jaws up in here, but I’ll give you a dose of reality if needed.)
Because I am raw.
And I am strong.
I am SnapDragon.
. . .
What makes you strong, Dear Reader? What does your cast-iron-kind-of-life look like?
SnapDragon identifies as an educator, artist, and certified badass.
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