The iron pot

On this snowy day, pictured above, as I made dinner I found myself thinking of this iron pot that turned up in my apartment years ago. This was my apartment on Delavan Avenue.

I am not sure why I had inherited this pot. This was back in the crazy time of my life when roommates were always leaving under cover of darkness and leaving me with all kinds of stuff. It was this big iron pot with a big heavy lid. Back then I did not appreciate iron pots as I do now. And so this pot mostly gathered dust in the pantry. Once in a while I cooked beans in it. Somehow it occurred to me that it was good for cooking beans.

But other than that, long story short, I did not appreciate this pot. And one night before garbage day I decided it was time to get rid of it. I took it out to the curb.

Son of a bean-boiling sea cook, I hate remembering that!

I wish I could go back in time and not take that pot out to the curb! I am so ashamed.

But anyway, I took it out to the curb, and I put it in the garbage.

However. Here is where it is good to be me.

I cannot throw anything out!

Late that night I thought better of it. I put on boots over my pajamas and I ran outside. And there was the pot, still sitting there. I lugged it back upstairs and inside. I hated myself as I did that. I thought, I am such a jerk, I cannot throw anything out. Why am I saving this iron pot?

Here is why.

That iron pot sits on the stove now, filled with polenta.

Hardly a day passes when it is not in play. I cook in it constantly. It has held thousands of stews. It has cooked hundreds of pounds of beans. When I make a bean soup, this is my preferred pot, because of how it is shaped. I love how the lid fits onto it. I admire it as a work of art.

File this -- again -- under Never Throw Anything Out. Pennario agreed with me on this.

It is ironclad wisdom!