Wok heartbreak

I remember the days of Wok Wednesdays, when I cooked blithely in my wok and dreamed of a stir-fry future. Oh, what halcyon days those were. But those dreams were crushed a few weeks ago when I pulled the wok from my pantry. What happens to me and woks had happened again: It rusted.

In several photo exchanges, the kind and helpful Grace Young , author of “Stir Frying to the Sky’s Edge” (the Wok Wednesdays bible), tried to allay my fears. It looked like the darkening from seasoning to her. But she didn’t have the benefit of the metallic aroma and brownish residue left when I ran a finger across. She also was unaware of my previous disappointing relationships with woks.

I am baffled about what causes the problem – it’s not like I’m using the wok to store goldfish, or something. But I pulled it out today and went through the seasoning process again, after first scrubbing it with soap then hot oil and salt.

How long will the relationship last this time? I have no way of knowing. But I will try to enjoy it while I can.


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