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I passed her shop one morning, and through the window I saw her perched on a stool, bent over, her head in her hands and her shoulders heaving. Obviously she was crying. I opened the door. “What’s the matter?” She did not lift her head. “Lee, what’s the matter?”

She sat up and I saw tears on her face. I also recognized that she wasn’t crying. She was caught up in paroxysms of laughter.

I had to wait until she could find and hold a full breath of air. Finally, after many false starts, she said, “A customer came in here, cursed me out, and said she was going to sue me.”

Here, laughter took over her again so completely that her body shook.

The story came out in pieces between laughing interruptions.

The woman had come two days earlier and asked if Lee had a heavy black pot for sale. She showed her the item.

The woman asked, “Could you cook a pot roast in this? I have a recipe that I had to steal to get.” When Lee answered in the affirmative, the customer asked, “How do you use the pot? Do I have to wash it first?”

Lee explained that any pots or pans sent from a factory must be scrubbed thoroughly to remove a film, which is put on to prevent rust.

The customer asked, “I should wash it?”

Lee said, “Get a Brasso scourer, use a little Ajax, and scrub the pot inside and out. Wash the pot again, and then use Brillo soap pads to scrub it again. When it feels smooth, wash it with regular dish-washing liquid. Dry it with a soft towel. Put some vegetable oil on your hands. Rub that all over the pot and the lid. Put the two into a very slow oven, about 150°F, overnight. Next morning, take it out, let it cool, wash it again lightly, and then continue with your pot roast recipe.”

I told Lee that sounded about right. She said yes, except that the customer came into the shop screaming, “You have ruined my life. I followed your instructions and my fiancê brought his parents for dinner last night. His mother makes a killer pot roast and I paid somebody to get her recipe for me. I followed hers as I followed yours, but when I served it they all began to frown and then giggle, and finally they all started laughing. Some of them said they had to pick steel wool out of their teeth.”

Lee asked the woman how she had prepared the pot roast.

The customer said, “I did what you suggested. I took the meat and scrubbed with a brass scourer and Ajax. Then I washed it and dried it and washed it again with a soapy Brillo pad. I washed it finally with dish-washing liquid and patted it dry. I put the oil on my hands and rubbed it and put it in a low oven, 150°F overnight. Yesterday morning I took it out of the oven, and when it was cooled I washed it again and then followed my pot roast recipe.

“I served it last night and they laughed so hard, I put them out of my house— my fiancê and his parents and some friends they had brought with them.

“I’m on my way to send my ring back to the jerk. I never want to hear his name again.”

Lee said, “Wait at least a day. No, better wait a week. Do you love him?” The customer started crying. “Yes.”

“ Then wait a week. If you can bear to see him, bring him here and I will explain how we miscommunicated.” The customer dried her eyes and was a little mollified and said, “I’ll think about it. But if I can’t forgive him, believe me, I won’t forgive you. I will sue your ass.”

When Lee and I stopped laughing, she invited me over to her house for pot roast. Hers was delicious.

Black Iron Pot Roast

SERVES 10 TO 12

5-6 pounds rolled boneless beef chuck

Salt and freshly ground black pep-per, to taste

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 large onion, studded with 5 cloves

3 carrots, peeled and cut into large pieces

1 stalk celery, cut into large pieces

1 cup water or beef stock

3 tablespoons cornstarch mixed with 3 tablespoons water

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Season meat with salt and pepper; then dust lightly with flour.

In Dutch oven with tight-fitting cover, brown meat slowly