Our Rural Roots

Meredith Bernard, Contributor

Every morning begins the same. Feet on floor. Slippers on feet. Shuffle to the kitchen and reach above the stove for my small cast-iron skillet. Cut a slab of butter. Fire on the gas. Wait for the butter to melt. Give the sizzle a swirl, and crack a few eggs to fry for my son and husband's breakfasts. Once cooking is done, the skillet gets a quick rinse, scrub, dry and a swipe of bacon grease before I put it back where it hangs among at least eight more of its kind -- same family, different sizes, all "trusty."

Trusty is the best word I can think of to describe these skillets that have built me. You know, like that country song "The House That Built Me," except these skillets have built me as a cook. They've never let me down. That doesn't mean I haven't burnt a meal in them or left them on the burner too long when seasoning. Yet, even when I've messed up, they've always come back to where they needed to be and taught me in the process.

Some of the cast iron I use daily has been passed down through generations. I wonder how many biscuits they've held? How many wood stoves they've sat on? How many hungry farmers they've fed? Much like the land we tend, these skillets are a symbol of permanence. Each one is an heirloom that doesn't need to be kept under lock and key, as they get better with time and use.

Like our land, I hope these skillets will be passed on through generations and help many more cooks find their way in filling their family's bellies with good food and even better memories. Some things in life don't need changing; they need their purpose realized and pursued.

Is your grandmother's skillet waiting for you to rediscover its iron-clad promise?

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-- Meredith Bernard documents rural life with skillet in hand as she tends to farm and family from North Carolina. Follow her on social media @thisfarmwife and visit her website at https://thisfarmwife.com/…

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