For Christmas this year, Oz got me a cast iron griddle. It's the perfect size to fit over two burners on my stove, and I've been looking forward to the day I got to use it. I *wanted* to use it last weekend, but since there were certain people here who couldn't keep down the contents of their stomach, I figured I'd play it safe and wait.
I broke it out today.
Let me say straight out that I love cast iron. Some of my favorite dishes that are always meant to be cooked in cast iron include pineapple upside-down cake and cornbread. BUT! That does not mean I know how to properly cook on cast iron, and boy, did I discover that today.
I had promised the kids pancakes and eggs on the new griddle. I did the short-order cook thing and asked everyone what kind of eggs they want (one order for 'fried,' one order for 'well done,' and two orders, including my own, for 'over medium'), and I whipped up the pancake batter from a mix 'cause while I might be Betty Crocker in some ways, I do love pancake mix. Except for biscuits, and I'll have to share my recipe for those someday. Nom nom nom.
I pulled some blueberries out of the freezer to add to the pancakes while they cooked, found a bag of hash browns in the fridge (did I mention that on Saturdays we usually do brunch instead of breakfast because nobody gets up before 9 a.m. and it's usually 10 before the kitchen sees any action?), asked M2 to get the bag of grapes out of the crisper, pulled out a second cast iron pan for the hash browns, and turned on...
I started the coffee while it heated up, and then came back over and waved my hand over the hot black metal. I sensed heat. I got excited. I stayed excited while I poured the pancake batter into little batches on the back half and cracked eggs onto the front half.
I might have done an internal happy dance.
And then I looked down at my work and thought, "You IDIOT!"
Totally forgot to add oil first, and I watched in horror as all the food semi-permanently adhered to the deceptively shiny black surface.
I salvaged what I could. The eggs came out, though they lost a layer or two thanks to my stupidity, and after I scraped all the excess pancake off and added some oil, the second and third rounds of pancakes puffed up beautifully and didn't stick at all.
But the chickens are gonna get some mangled blueberry pancakes later. I'm sure they'll be hoping this learning curve lasts a while. Though whoever gets to scrub the griddle will no doubt hope that one oopsie is all it takes.
*grins innocently* Live and learn, right?