Memoir of my first Dutch oven
This is a memoir piece I wrote for a writing class that I am taking. One of ten writing pieces I will be sharing over the next several weeks.
Let me know what you think! (It's my first attempt – be nice)
Memoir of my First Dutch oven
Day three, in bed with the worst cold since spending a day at preschool with my son a few years back. I will not be blaming the snotty nosed brats for my current malady, however, no, no one to blame but myself for this nasty cold, relentlessly pounding my sinus passages into oblivion. On the good side of sickness is the location of the TV, right smack dab across from my miserable prone carcass allowing endless hours of channel flipping from fishing to cooking and back again as the boredom moves me.
One flip of the channel will live with me forever as the moment I discovered cooking with a Dutch oven, not a revelation but a “Hey, that is really cool!” moment that has in many ways changed my life. So profound was this discovery and after viewing every show about my new passion, I dragged my box of Kleenex over to the computer and purchased the first of what would soon become a large collection of Dutch ovens.
My favorite brown truck arrived soon after I released myself from the sick bed and the joy of that single delivery was soon completely and utterly crushed by a single comment from my wife “What are you going to do with that ugly thing?” Ugly? No just unseasoned I tried to explain, then quickly rolling into a litany of fine meals I was going to create outdoors in the wilds of our backyard as a final defense of my excellent purchase, it was soon became apparent as my wife and son strolled away that I would only have my dog to share the experience with.
Recovery from the hurt full wounds delivered by my loved ones only took a couple of days, I needed some time to “season” my new Dutch oven (the process of applying a baked grease coating to the Dutch oven), find the perfect recipe for the maiden voyage of my new best friend and finish building my fire pit. Blackberry crisp was my recipe of choice, Saturday was my day of deliverance and Mother Nature was working very hard to make it all impossible to deliver. It wasn’t quite rain and it wasn’t quite fog that day but of a nature in between, perhaps something to be found on the coast of Southern Wales a slight misty drizzle that would collect on your hair as a royal crown of moisture.
Striking a manly pose as you watch your black pot cook can be accomplished with single-minded determination and the refusal to look up at the big bay window facing the backyard, which I might add had the whole family looking out of and laughing, including the dog as I stood in the foul weather watching my beautiful black pot cook.
Blackberry crisp, divinely graced with the aromatics of cinnamon spice mixed in with the blackberries in this recipe. A delight to the scenes and a moment of victory for me as the first whiffs of that wonderful aroma reached me through that black pot, fighting the downward drifting mist up to my dew covered nose. It was a beacon, a shining moment in my lonely crusade of watching my pot cook as I breathed in that wonderful aroma, looked up and signaled the family to join me.
I laughed as I looked around my new fire pit, there stood my wife, son and yes even the dog with their royal crowns of moisture adorning their heads while they watched that beautiful black pot cook our Blackberry crisp.
Gary
