What Time Had Hidden
On roasting pans, sabbaticals, and second chances
“Don’t be ridiculous”, said my mother. “Why would you go into all that trouble if you can buy a new one for 8.99 at IKEA?”
She was totally missing the point. It wasn’t about having a brand new roasting pan. It was about second chances.
I bought the pan many years ago. I don’t remember when or in which of my many house moves. It has been a loyal companion that I use almost daily. Weirdly enough, it has always been the right size for whatever I need, be it roasting a piece of chicken, cooking a breaded escalope or reheating in the oven whatever I decided to take out of the freezer that day. It is my go-to pan.
What I never noticed is that badly cleaned grease started to slowly accumulate and burn into the surface. I didn’t think much of it until one day I realised just a fraction of the original surface could still be seen. That is when I set out to clean it. To remove years of muck from it. Layer by layer. To let it shine again.
If I had followed my mother’s logic, I would have just thrown it away and bought a new one – out with the old, in with the new. That didn’t feel right. The pan was otherwise in good shape, it could still fulfil the role it was meant for as well as it had done for years. It just needed a deep clean-up to take away what was momentarily hiding the perfectly usable surface.
It wasn’t an easy task. I tried several methods. Some didn’t work at all. Some required discovering products I had never heard of. Each one was suited for different times of the process to help me overcome each obstacle: the borders were the easiest to clean and became the early wins that made me believe it could be done. The sides were more challenging. The grease there was thicker so it needed repeated soaking and scrubbing. A couple of Brillo soap pads succumbed to the grease but managed to break through the thickest layers. That gave me hope.
The optimism soon faded away, as the corners wouldn’t budge. I threw everything I had at them, but there were no signs of change. The shape was awkward and the grime felt thicker. I was also losing my patience. What I thought would take a couple of hours ended up being a week-long project of hour after hour of scrubbing. My mother’s words came back into my head a few times. Maybe she was right. After all, this clean-up probably ended up costing me way more than the 8.99 of a new pan. But I didn’t want to give up. Throwing it away felt wrong. The pan was still perfect for me. Time had only hidden what it was.
At the beginning of my sabbatical, I was no different from that roasting pan. I was still there, but you could barely see my true self. Over the years, I let grime accumulate and take over. Slowly and without noticing, I let the environment change me: obligation became stronger than enjoyment, routine won over creativity, adapting to the “system” made me leave part of my personality behind. The moment I stopped working this became evident: I could no longer recognise myself, even though I knew I was still there.
I had lost my sparkle. For years I had brought lightness and banter to the teams I worked with. Everyone loved hearing my quirky stories -or at least so they made me believe- and I wouldn’t take myself too seriously. Over the years, things began to feel heavier, more serious, solely focused on the task at hand for which there was never enough time. Work had become a chore, a pursuit of efficiency and productivity task after task, not something I enjoyed doing with like-minded people. There was a lot to scrub away – a lot of elbow grease was required.
Slowly but surely I started to scrape off that crust that was now covering me, residue of experiences and moments that shaped me in the last years. Some areas went away very easily like the packed agenda and the minute planning. I started to let my energy lead my days, doing what I was ready to do, what felt right at that time rather than what I had planned a few days before. Conversations were no longer timed and they didn’t follow a set agenda, I let them go where they wanted to go, discovering topics and opportunities I had never seen before. Curiosity guided me into new adventures, showing me what can be possible if I dare. My world slowly started changing.
Some topics took more time and conscious effort to dissolve, digging day after day to uncover what had always been there underneath. At many points of the process I needed help from others to see things clearer, to change perspective, to nudge me to be myself again - friends, family and strangers alike. Every interaction had an impact. I worked painstakingly layer after layer, until the surface became smooth again. Not perfect.
Some scratches and marks remained as well as some tiny pieces of burnt grease that resisted my deepest efforts. I could have continued trying to get rid of them, but I realised they were there for a reason. They are a reminder of the meals that were cooked in the pan and made it what it is today. It is not a new pan. It is the same pan, given a second chance.
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