My Baby Skillet

The most cherished and versatile element of my batterie de cuisine is a well-seasoned 6” cast iron skillet I inherited from my sister Cindy, who called it her baby skillet.

Now, Cindy called anything of a diminutive nature  “baby”; a hand spade was a “baby shovel.” I swear I once heard her call little old Massachusetts the baby state.

“Cindy,” I said, “It’s the Bay State.”

“That’s not what I said,” she replied with a sharp glance. I let it drop; I’d learned a long time ago you can’t win an argument with a big sister.

This skillet is just the thing you need to use for baking in small amounts. This little honey is perfect for good half-dozen (or four catheads). It’s also ideal for a pan of cornbread that will feed at least four easily, and a meat loaf that will feed three. When it comes to baked pasta, I would dearly love to have three more of these skillets to use for a manicotti party, one pan of four for every two people.

They’re also inexpensive, but if you’re lucky,  you get one from someone you love.

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