What My Grandma’s Cast Iron Skillet Taught Me About Life
What the Cast Iron Carried She didn’t expect the pan to hiss like that. One splash of tomato sauce, and the kitchen turned quiet in a way that wasn’t just about sound. Grandma Maribel’s face stiffened—not angry, exactly, but shadowed. As if the sizzle had touched something older than cookware. “It’s cast iron,” Grandma finally …
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