Cast Iron Skillet

My grandmother's cast iron skillet is probably 40 years old. It still works better than anything I could buy at a kitchen store today, which says something about what durability actually looks like in practice. So many layers of seasoning have built up that the surface is almost nonstick at this point. Glossy, black, completely smooth from decades of oil and heat. Maintaining it requires attention because you can't just throw it in the dishwasher. Obligation creates a relationship with the object that disposable pans never have. The handle gets hot. The weight is absurd. It takes 10 minutes to heat evenly. But once hot, nothing else sears a steak the same way. Brands have tried to modernize cast iron with enamel coatings and ergonomic handles. The original unstyled version still outsells most of them because the design was already right. My hope is to hand this one down, still cooking 40 years from now. Getting better with use instead of worse is the opposite of how most products work. Keeping it properly seasoned feels like maintaining a small inheritance that earns its place in every kitchen I'll ever have.