Buy the rusty skillet

It's the best buy in the kitchen, and the people here say so from five separate conversations: cast iron is the one piece of cookware that's better bought second-hand, because nothing that matters about it wears out. Rust is surface; a good pan is underneath. Yard sales, charity shops, estate sales and the local classifieds turn them up for the price of a coffee, several single accounts say — with the honest caveat from three accounts that stock is luck, from one that in some towns they're snapped up, and the answer that the shops in wealthier suburbs are better hunting. What to check, as this page's own minimum: it should sit flat and not wobble, ring rather than thud when tapped, and have no crack, because a crack is the one thing you can't fix; a wobble on a glass-top stove is a nuisance and on gas is nothing. Rust, grime, a century of neglect — all fine. Bringing it back, from three conversations and two more: scrub the rust off with steel wool, or a wire brush, or a vinegar soak — the people here give no ratio or time, so follow a restoration guide and don't leave it long — vinegar eats iron once the rust is gone; wash it, dry it completely on a warm burner, then season it, which the third question covers, and which some people here say you can do simply by cooking in it. Two conversations describe restoring pans bought for pennies to better-than-new, and one account points out that the old pans may be better made, where cheap new ones are rough — a rough new pan works fine once seasoned, another says, and can be smoothed with an angle grinder if you have one and care. If nothing used turns up, two conversations say an entry-level new pan is inexpensive and acceptable; and three conversations note that the discount home-goods chains regularly carry high-end pans at steep markdowns for the patient. One person's rule that this page agrees with: buy the single pan you need, not the set, because sets pad out with sizes you'll never use. And one objection this page owes you: for someone genuinely broke, even a cheap new pan is real money, and two accounts say so; the yard-sale pan is the version of this advice for them.

Take the three worries in turn, because the people here mix them up and the facts are different for each. First, bare cast iron. Three conversations worry that very cheap or imported iron might carry something toxic, and one account had a cheap pan's red paint burn off and smoke; another account asks, fairly, for any evidence that plain iron from anywhere contains anything but iron. The checkable version: the recent US warnings about cookware leaching lead concern imported aluminium and brass pots, not cast iron. Plain black iron is iron. What to avoid is a painted or coated cheap pan that isn't honest about what the coating is, and — from one singleton and a caution — a pan that's actually a recalled brand; if the price is silly and the maker is nobody, a plain unfinished pan is a safer bet than a coloured one. Second, iron in the food. Yes, a bare pan adds iron, more so with acidic food and more from a poorly seasoned pan, and the people here argue about whether that's a benefit or a hazard; the correction they land on is that for the ordinary eater it's a small dietary plus, and for people who store too much iron it's a reason to avoid the pan — which is why it's in the safety line above. Third, non-stick. Three conversations say avoid it, two say it's inert, and both are right about different things. The coating itself is chemically inert; a flake swallowed is not considered a poison. But heated too hot — an empty pan left on a high burner, roughly above five hundred degrees Fahrenheit — the coating breaks down into fumes that give people a flu-like illness for a day and can kill a pet bird outright. The older manufacturing chemical people remember hearing about was phased out of US production by 2015, and the people here who say 'it's fine if you don't abuse it' are right — the trouble is that non-stick pans get abused: one account describes a roommate destroying them in two months with a metal fork, three warnings say a scratched or flaking coating goes in the bin, and five conversations say the cheap non-stick pan you replace every year or two costs more over a decade than the iron or steel pan you buy once. That is the real case against it, and it's a money case as much as a health one.

Less than the legend, and the people here who've used one for years find it less delicate than the internet suggests. Two conversations and a correction dismiss the oldest rule: modern dish soap does not strip seasoning, which is oil baked into a hard polymer and comes off only to scouring, lye or a long soak; the 'no soap' rule dates from harsher detergents. One account has used ordinary washing-up liquid and a sponge for years. What does hurt it: leaving it wet, or soaking it for hours — one account's mother rusted a pan that way — and the fix is the same every time: wash, dry on a warm burner until bone dry, wipe a film of oil on while it's warm. Two conversations scrub stuck food with coarse salt and a cut potato; one uses a chain-mail scrubber. One caution says very acidic food strips seasoning, and one account keeps a heavy stainless pan for sauces. And one correction the people here insist on: cast iron holds heat beautifully and distributes it badly, so preheat it slowly and expect a hot spot over a small burner; it is not 'even', whatever the legend says. Two smaller myths. Eggs: five objections argue it out, and the settled version is that a well-seasoned pan, properly heated, with enough fat, fries an egg without sticking, and a new or thin one doesn't; use the small non-stick pan for eggs until yours is seasoned, one account says, and the eggs won't tell. Indestructible: nearly — but a handle can snap, and one account says the way to actually break a pan is thermal shock, cold water on a hot pan; let it cool first. On glass-top stoves, two conversations and two arguments say the risk is scratching, and the one warning here is don't slide it on a glass top — lift it. Now seasoning itself, which is where the people here argue and the fork at the bottom of the page carries both sides. One camp does it as a project: a whisper-thin coat of oil over the whole pan, baked at high heat, repeated; they argue about the oil — flaxseed for its hard finish, though it smells terrible and one account's coat flaked; grapeseed, canola, vegetable, lard, bacon fat; not olive oil, which several say goes gummy; and never boiled linseed oil from the hardware store, which is cut with solvents and is not the food-grade flaxseed oil it resembles. Do it with the windows open or on the grill outside, one account says, because it smokes. The other camp says none of that matters: fry bacon and eggs, cook in it regularly, and the pan seasons itself. Both camps end up with the same pan. Last, the honest alternatives from the people here who don't love iron: carbon steel is lighter, heats more evenly, and does most of what iron does, though it hates acid and holds fish flavour; stainless steel lasts as long, needs no seasoning, and asks for technique instead — preheat, oil, deglaze — and one account says learning it made them a better cook. A kitchen doesn't need one perfect pan; two accounts describe a small set of different materials for different jobs, and that's the page's honest answer to 'which is best'.