Cooking with Gods (The Cocotte)

I'm devastated, she was a member of our family. She was close to 60-years-old and a part of every meal, its been hard on the whole family. Its been a very sad week indeed. She always wore teal, she was strong, but nothin' last forever. My Le Creuset 5qt, round french oven has died, broke, in fact.. She split, from the handle to the bottom, her enamel's chipped and I got a piece of it stuck in my finger (this happened while I was caressing her back to life). But life must go on, I have to cook... I must start a new family of cookware. My search for "LBN's official cookware" starts now.

R.I.P

Dear Staub,

I’ve come to a crossroad in my culinary adventures. Do I sell one of my kidneys and use the money to replace my 5 quart Le Creuset Dutch oven that unfortunately exploded and had to be put to rest, or do I give Staub a reputable company with a long standing tradition of excellence a chance to become my “go-to” vessel for meal time cooking?

At first the answer was simple. Pick neither, go to Target, and buy an off the wall brand that will inevitably make my dinners taste like old Tab Cola cans and Mississippi swamp water. But then, in what seemed to be the pinnacle moment in a series of completely unrelated events involving a potato, The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand and gently used scuba mask, my neighbor suggested I borrow his Staub cocotte.

Oh my god! I had no idea that once you closed that beautifully handcrafted lid, tiny little culinary cherubs would baste my pot roast with the savory nectars of Heaven. It was amazing! I’ll be honest, either you have the greatest enamel cast iron cocotte in the world, or Julia Childs and I had a Freaky Friday switch-a-roo and she decided to create a meal I’ll never be able to live up to. It was unreal. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. My neighbor, whom I had borrowed it from, was planning to roast a chicken or platypus - - I can’t remember, but I’m sure it turned out delicious.

As hard as it was to see her (the cocotte) go, it was even harder for me to fathom a time when Staub, would be affordable member of my kitchen. Your wonderful cocotte is now my curse. My little girls want to be a pot roast for Halloween and my wife still talks about the time she fainted into the arms of an imaginary Patrick Swayze after eating that legendary meal. At this point I am unprepared to cook another hunk of meat, or stir another sauce without your help. I’ll never be able to replicate a meal like that again with the kitchen tools I have. I’m in a pickle, a bind, a quandary, but I have a solution. I would like you (Staub) to be the official cookware of me, and my blog, “Life Between Naps.”

Is this crazy? Yes. Is there a hitch? Yes. Is it worth asking? You bet. Will it work? I’m hopeful. Here we go… No hard feelings, no ill-will, just one of two answers - - “yes” or “no.” Will you (Staub) please send a determined father a 5qt cocotte, large enough for a pot roast, pork shoulder or a bunch of tiny birds for free?

Catch your breath; shake off the dizziness and take it all in. My part was easy; you actually have to determine how hard the word “free” is to digest. I fully understand the burden I have bestowed upon you and I’m sure you’re thinking that this is not the way to do business. Well let me tell you something, my 92-year-old grandma once said, “You can’t skin a cat with shoelaces,” and “you’ll never know unless you ask.” I have no idea what the cat line is in reference to and I'm to terrified to ask, but the asking part I get. I’m a full-time, unemployed stay-at-home dad trying to do whatever I can to prevent a dinnertime disaster. Without financial backing all I can do is ask a great company to do something extraordinary for a man who is about to make bologna meatloaf.

Thank you so much for any consideration you may have given to my ridiculous request.

Jim Noonan