So delving deeper into my newly found hobby of cooking, I torture Lewis with a trip to Bed, Bath, and Beyond for a pressure cooker. From the moment we walk in the door, I am like a spastic 4 year-old child who is distracted by all the shiny toys. My previously focused adult brain is now consumed with one thought - "I want it!" Knowing that my hubby has an extremely low threshold for shopping, I attempt to regain focus and head toward the intended direction of the pressure cookers. However, out of the corner of my eye I see a bright yellow package with a beeeeeutiful cast iron grill-top inside. I don't have one of those. I want one of those. I NEED one of those. Now here's where the story gets slightly shameful. I pull out all of those powers of persuasion towards husband that we girls are pretty much born with. I hit'em right in the gut with "honey, we haven't had a steak in FOREVER! (which is true since the grill is still buried in the mountain of boxes in the garage that I like to pretend don't exist) Wouldn't it be great to have a nice steak for dinner...and you wouldn't even have to set up the grill?!" Feeling the stage has been set, I continue my sell. "Oh and we still have a credit here from that gift card we got for the wedding!" Hubby picks up the box to examine it. To my complete delight it bypasses being put back on the shelf and is slam-dunked into our cart. success.
After a stop at Whole Foods for all the components of our favorite steak dinner, I am excited to be home and play with my new toy. It is cast iron after all, and any southerner knows that a good cast iron pot must be well-seasoned. I research how to speed-up this process and head back to kitchen to commence seasoning. After two hours of basting oil and baking pan in 350 degree oven, I am ready to get these beauties on the grill! Turn on gas burners, await pan to start to smoke per directions, and add steaks. sizzle. smoke. louder sizzle. more smoke. check timer. wait another two minutes. thicker smoke. open window. close bedroom door to muffle sound of smoke alarm. flip steaks. admire grill pattern left on cooked-side. flee kitchen to wipe tears from smoke-tortured eyeballs. check timer. pull steaks. sit down to table. ahhhh. time to feast. take first bite of steak. really really want to be impressed. not impressed. have undercooked, grey steak with faux grill patterns. oh and a REALLY messy grease-encrusted stove. DAM!
