Simple Pan Basics

I continue to look for interestingly complex recipes to cook and share on this blog (though I’ll admit this is neither a major theme nor the sole purpose of this site to share recipes) and occasionally I’ll post one.

But then other times I like to retreat to something more simple and remind my readers of two things:

First, that this is not a space only about cast iron cooking, and that “cast iron guy” is more of a mindset and philosophy for living than an advice column on frying pans, and;

Second, that I do love cooking with cast iron and sometimes that is something super simple and super basic and results in a clean, delicious meal.

Like frying up a pork chop.

Aside from writing an epic piece on supply chains and the impact of climate-change induced once-in-two-hundred-year floods in the Vancouver area where much of our food comes from, and how the washout of multiple highways has created a low level panic here for the security of our food supply and… deep breath.

Let’s just say we bought a big hunk of pork last week and neatly packed it up in our deep freezer for some peace of mind.

There are a hundred great ways to cook a pork chop, of course, but a simple and basic fry up in a cast iron skillet is near the top of my list.

I seasoned with some pepper, salt and a bit of spice, and tossed them thawed into the smoking hot cast iron ten inch pan with a bit of oil. A few minutes per side, and a finishing fry to enhance the colour and we were served with a beautifully tender and moist cut of meat.

It’s winter outside so the barbecue is pretty much packed away for all but the warmest of winter occasions, but the cast iron does a darn comparable job.

And there is no complex recipe to follow.

Just heat, meat and eat.

The Artful Joy of Splitting Sourdough

A friend of mine killed her starter.

Dead.

I didn’t ask how. Vacations. Life. A summer heat wave.

It happens.

So a few days later I just split mine and delivered one half it to her in a plastic pouch.

Problem solved, and she could go back to baking loaves.

This marks the third time I’ve split my mother dough into some giftable offspring.

Sharing starter starter seems to me to be almost a core tradition embedded deep in the subculture and shared process of breadmaking.

Starting a new starter from scratch is not difficult, of course, but neither is it a quick process.

Even if your newly gathered and grown starter is ready to use in a couple of weeks, there are countless feedings of wasted flour during that span and even then I’ve found that a good, productive starter takes many more weeks (or months) to mature and hit peak efficiency.

So instead we share. Half for me. Half for a friend.

I did this by scooping half of my starter from its home with a spatula from the little plastic tub where it has lived for the better part of two and a half years. That half went to my friend. Shared, the travelling half got a new home, a fresh feed of its own and a chance to bake bread for another family.

The remainder got a feeding and returned to its corner to enjoy the fresh dosing of flour.

Such a simple act…. but at the same time a clever and marvelous way to spread a bit of sourdough joy with friends and neighbours.