Oven, Cure Thyself

The pre-trip dutch oven curing ritual took place yesterday. After measuring the depths of conventional ovens all over town, we figured only Mike would have one big enough and hot enough to do the job.















First, the Grand Masters talk cast iron. They are not happy the new pot isn't a Lodge, but they're happy it's a Big Motherfucker.
















Ready for transport.
















Wrasslin' a pot.

















All lubed up and ready for the oven.

















How deep is your love?

















Not deep enough! Had to move to the outdoor smoker.
















Hotter than hell. A few hours later, after careful monitoring by several members with ritualistic beverages, Mike predicted the pot "must be fucking bloody orange in there". He was right, and it was so hot the wooden handle on the grill combusted spontaneously (true story). Keep your receipt, Mike.