Thursday, August 04, 2011

When You Find Yourself the Villain in the Story You Have Written

I have this pan I love. I use it for almost everything. It's Calphalon, non-stick, very sturdily built. A while ago, I pan fried something and burned an acrid layer of gunk into it that seemed impossible to scrub out. I washed it on every conceivable setting in the dishwasher. I scrubbed the bejesus out of it with the coarsest scrubber I could find that wouldn't ruin its surface. I even put it on the stove, heated it until it was almost glowing, set off every smoke detector in my house, and tried to burn off the offending black residue. No dice.

Eventually, I just decided to continue to cook with it until it worked itself out. Great plan, right? This just made the residue worse and every meal I cooked, meals I used to love, began to taste charred, caustic, and poisonous.

As this is one big metaphor (yes, it is), I can't just toss it and get a new one, that would ruin the metaphor. There's only one thing for it. Stop ignoring it. Scrub the hell out of it. Keep scrubbing the hell out of it. Scrub it until every last bit of burnt shit is gone. Scrub it and don't use it until I'm confident I can enjoy a meal again without feeling like I licked the inside of a chimney.

Consider this a hiatus.

Until I'm the Good Guy again,