Grief on the shallow side of the spectrum

I am in mourning.

I'm not wearing all black, although come to think of it I probably should. I've heard that it's very slimming.

I'm in mourning in a non-all-black-wearing kind of way.

It's my Le Creuset dutch oven, LC.

My Father killed it.

I'm trying to get over it.

I know that forgiveness is divine...

I know that he's not really a murderer.

But you don't understand.

It's the lime green dutch oven that has not been moved from my stove top in the past 9 years!


It has graced the top of my stove since Mr. Jenny gave it to me one extravagant Christmas.

I used that pan at least four times a week for all those years.

What is that? Something like (ummm... 4 times 52 times 9 carry the one... ummm...) 1,800 and something?

But now LC is gone.

I've tried everything to revive it.

Done all the fix-alls from google.

Called the manufacturer.

But LC is gone. Just gone.

Sniff.

Sniff.

It happened last week at the epic garage sale.

I was being all organized so I sliced some leftover roast into my dutch oven. I smothered it in barbecue sauce, turned my burner to the lowest setting and left it to simmer so the 'work crew' could have sandwiches for lunch.

Whenever I went inside I would swoon over the delicious smell and give it a quick stir.

At 10:24 am I was sitting by my Mom and sister in a garage filled with shoppers. I kept smelling something burning.

I had been in the house about 20 minutes earlier and stirred the pot then.

I told myself I would add up the pile of stuff in front of me and then go in and check when my Dad said, "Oh, by the way, I turned that pan way down so it wouldn't burn."

It took me a full millisecond before what he said registered. I jumped up, startled everyone in the garage by screaming,"Get out of my way!", and ran into my smoke filled kitchen.

My dutch oven was glowing red over the molten lava of the burner, heat shimmered over the pan.


I grabbed a dish towel and yanked my beloved LC off the burner.

I resisted calling 911 to come and try to resuscitate my lime green beauty.

My Dad came into the house and said, "Oh no! What happened? Why's there all this smoke in here?"

I told him he had turned the burner all the way up instead of turning it all the way down.

He looked mortified.

So, I lied.

I told him it was no big deal. He's old. And I love him. And I knew it would be wrong to hit him over the head with the pan lid.

Right?

That would have been wrong.

Right?

He said, "Oh no! I'm sorry!"

And I said, "It's okay. It's just a pan."

I lied.

I miss LC!

But after one week of trying to save it, it's time to admit it's really gone. (This not a picture of LC. To share that would be too painful, but this is pretty much how LC looked after the mishap.)



Time of death...7:14 pm.

Teary eyed, I started looking for a replacement about 7:15 pm.

The color is discontinued.

Who spends that much for a pan anyway?

It's just a pan.

But darn.

It's only been a week and I am already in withdrawal.

And no other pans come close to the bond between me and my lime green Le Creuset. No other pan has ever created the degree of deliciousness achieved in the harmonious relationship LC and I had. It went beyond woman and enameled cast iron. Way beyond!

...

...

I know that time will heal this wound...

And I know there's a lot worse problems in the world...

And I know that a lot of people don't even have anything to cook in a pan...much less a Le Creuset dutch oven.

...but darn.

darn, darn, darn.

Could you still observe a moment of silence for the death of my dutch oven?

It's been really hard saying goodbye.

Sniff.

Sniff.