he first time I realized how much I loved to cook, I was 7 years old on a Girl Scout camping trip. My mom, the troop leader, brought along our big cast-iron pot, and I made everyone a dump cake that we cooked over the campfire. For 12 years of camping trips, that pot, a 9-quart Lodge, was always with us cooking something delicious. Isn’t it amazing how one piece of cookware can be filled with so many memories? That pot carried with it laughter,
