We have a ‘Lodge’ solid, un breakable frying pan. It weighs, at a guess 2.5kg. It’s impossible to f**k up. (At the end of time I foresee nuclear explosions, virus ridden zombies ripping the arms off of the last, rotting corpses of my neighbours and someone, somewhere defending their last few moments on this planet with our Lodge, wielded like a baseball bat.)
I followed the seasoning instructions precisely and the next morning prepared us eggs and homemade sausages for breakfast; they were beautiful and perfectly cooked and served, having not stuck to either pan or each other.
It would be the act of an impossible mind to object to the use of the Lodge. It would be the act of an inept and impossible person to screw up this brutal piece of kitchenware.
The next morning herself burnt bread and eggs in it, tried to hide the welded-on mess. It took me a week to clean and restore to normal.
I’ve just been to my kitchen and she is cooking chips. Not, as you may suppose, in my (almost) impossible to destroy Lodge, no, instead in the copper bottomed, non-stick, just-for-delicate flavours frying pan that has lasted me about ten years without problems. I can’t wait for the quarantine to end so that she can f**k off back to her place.