There is a church-sponsored thrift store four blocks from my house. I walk about 6 miles per day and I often walk past the dumpsters behind the store. All the stuff that doesn’t make it onto the shelves ends up in the trash or the recycling. A month or so ago, I noticed a pair of rusted iron skillets in the metal recycling bin. I continued my walk, wondering if perhaps those pans could be brought back from the dead. On my return journey, I pinched them.
I was now in possession of two illegally acquired Keilen Cast Iron Skillets, one 8 inch and one 11 ½ inch. I was on dubious legal ground. A recycling dumpster is not a trash can. The scrap has a dollar value and provides a part of the thrift store’s revenue. In this case that amounts to about 30 cents. Nevertheless, the thought of those lovely skillets going for brillo pads stuck in my craw.
Keilen Ltd was started in 2011, so they are certainly not antiques. They are probably part of a set of three, the 6 incher now sitting cold and alone in a cupboard somewhere. Their Ebay value is as much as a fool will part with. I would guess that the pair, cleaned up and seasoned would be worth about $40.00. I resolved to restore them and bring them back to the store. So I’m liable at most for 40 bucks plus court costs.
I’m pausing here to say that Herman Melville interrupted a really great story with two chapters explaining how to butcher a whale. In that digressive spirit, I present the process of fixing a pan. You could just skip it and scroll down to the poem. Or not. I certainly don’t equate myself with the author of Moby Dick, but the poem is alright.
Leaving the legal issues to dangle in the wind, I proceeded to do a bit of internet research on removing rust with electrolysis. Youtube is awash in such instructional videos. This one is my favorite. The presenter, Mr. Eoin Reardon, goes over the subject rather quickly, but his lovely Irish accent is so sweet to listen to.
The guy at American Outdoors.net isn’t nearly as charismatic, but provides a lot more information:
I should note that Mrs ruleoflaw was not really in favor of this, but consented with the request that I not blow anything up.
I already had a battery charger, but I needed some suitable wire and a plastic bin.
I purchased a box of washing soda and some bare steel wire. A friend named Linda gave me a used kitchen wastebasket. She is a dear and for her trouble she is now an accessory after the fact to petty theft. I hope the judge goes easy on her.
Once I had the necessary supplies in hand, I set to work.
First, I suspended the larger skillet in the wastebasket with the wire. I then filled the basket with enough water, one gallon at a time, to completely cover the pan. This took eight gallons of water. I temporarily removed the skillet from the water. I then measured out eight tablespoons of washing soda and stirred it into the water, making sure it completely dissolved. I then returned the skillet to hang in the water.
It should be noted that this process involves a large tub of water and a battery charger. the charger must remain unplugged until everything is properly set up and double checked.
For an anode, I flattened a tin can, punched a hole in it near the rim and suspended it in the water with wire. The anode/tin can had to be close but not touching the skillet. I then attached the charger’s Positive (red) clip to the wire holding the anode. Next I attached the Negative (black) clip to the skillet handle, which was just below the water’s surface.
After making sure that everything was securely clamped in place and properly connected, I plugged in the charger. Within a couple of minutes small bubbles began to arise from the skillet. After about an hour the water’s surface was covered with a rusty scum.
To be criminally brief, the electrical current passing through the water lifts bits of Iron Oxide off the skillet and deposits them on the tin can/anode. It might also be magic elves. What did you expect from a theater major?
I let this elf magic-science work for 24 hours.
The next day I unplugged the charger and detached the clips. I pulled out the anode (which was completely covered in rust) and threw it in the recycling bin.
I removed the skillet and rinsed it off with the garden hose. There was a very small amount of rust remaining. After a scrub with a scotch-bite pad and then another scrubbing. with some steel wool, the pan was nearly rust free. The next step was to heat the skillet in a 350°F oven for about 15 minutes. This completely evaporated any remaining moisture on the pan. When it was cool enough to touch I rubbed vegetable shortening all over the skillet and wiped it off with paper towels. this removed the last fine bits of rust.
To season the pan for cooking, I again rubbed it
all over with a thin coat of shortening. Next, into the oven, upside down, for one hour at 500°. The oven was then turned off and the pan allowed to cool completely. For a thorough seasoning, this step should be repeated. Before I put it back in the oven, I took a day to do the other skillet and finished the process with both of them in the oven.
The two restored pans are pictured, ready to fry some eggs and sausage or bake a Dutch Baby. You can use the small pan to saute some apple slices, brown sugar and butter, to drizzle over the Dutch Baby.
The thrift store is only open three days a week, so I have to wait until Thursday to confess my sin and return the pans to them. I think they would probably go for about $40 on Ebay, so the people at the store would be justified in
charging 8 bucks for the small one and 10 bucks for the big one. What would you pay?
Do you think they'll forgive me?
I’d be afraid to tell my parents or grandparents that I was going to throw out two iron skillets.
My grandpa would need to be restrained from whacking me with one of them.
In the grand scheme of things, the renewal of a rusty pot doesn’t amount to much. Nevertheless, the restoration and redemption of our planet and it’s inhabitants must begin someplace. Perhaps it has already begun, in a dumpster, behind a thrift store.
I wrote a poem about redemption once.
It went like this:
Redemption and Rain In Fond du Lac
Christmas, Solstice, New Year and the springtime that follows
are all about redemption.
Redemption never happens without failure,
never happens without acceptance,
never without at least a little bit of forgiveness.
When redemption just never happens at all,
is a hard a sort of justice
ratcheting down on your wrist.
I was pretty certain the fail would reach up,
grab our ankles again,
pull you under, pull me with you, us, under dark water.
Someday I die,
alone or with you,
or somebody after you,
after me.
The only sureness is the dying.
Optional redemption is a luxury,
give it, get it, get along without it.
Without it there’s a punch below the ribcage
one must fail, fall hard,
rest in a black damp place, smelling one’s own piss-mildew.
Redemption, failure, forgiveness, acceptance,
could have been you,
would have been us,
we could start over,
if we could find a god, made a god who would let us.
If let our own selves and just skipped the god part.
Settle for a shower and some clean pajamas.
In a thrift-store she rang up two shirts, a pair of jeans,
two books, a CD of Johannes Brahms, some underwear and socks..
She packed them in a bag.
Have a nice weekend.
It was raining outside,
on March fifteenth in Fond du Lac.