Cast Iron Maiden

Go ahead, call me the Cast Iron Maiden! I'll never stop singing its praises. Many women enjoy decorating and powdering themselves with cosmetics and lotions in the bathroom. I hang around the kitchen greasing up and seasoning my black cast iron pots and skillets. There's a foundry on my street Friends Foundry with a cool logo; a painted illustration of a man pouring molten steel making an anvil. I tip my head into the open garage doors once in a while walking by with Honey and I immediately think of the photographs of Margaret Bourke-White. I see guys covered in black soot and grease working in the sweltering heat, pouring molten lava or sitting out front having a cigarette break. I wonder if they make cast iron muffin pans.