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A Tale of Two Pots

I thought, once again, that I would try, once again, to fry chicken.  As with a lifetime of trying, again and again, to grill a steak properly, and rarely succeeding, I find it easiest to blame my tools so, according to recipe directions, I decided to get a large, cast iron Dutch Oven.

I recalled that a local sportsman's store had a rather large collection of Lodge pots.  I assume campers like those grand pots with feet that you can set right on the coals, and heap more coals onto the lid.  But I knew they also had enameled cast iron pots, too.

I was opening a box to determine how deep the pot was when a clerk came by and offered to help.  "Those are wonderful pots!", he said.  "I bought one for my mother and she uses it all the time."

I was holding the lid in my hand; a cast iron lid:  "Your mother must be pretty strong", I replied.

"She is," he said, "but I think she just leaves it on the stove."

After scrubbing the pot clean this morning, I just left it on the stove.


The chicken was wonderful.

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