No, I decide, I can’t replace this pan, particularly when it still works in spite of decades of use

It’s Sunday morning, after a chilly, cloudy Shabbos. I’ve soaked my nine by thirteen pan in water because the corn syrup, brown sugar, and oatmeal combo I’d baked in it had formed a rock-hard substance on the bottom. That combo creates the perfectly chewy base for the peanut butter and chocolate mixture I put on top to make the O’Henry Bars everyone seems to find irresistible.(Though my eight-year-old gourmet grandson had complained the bars weren’t as chewy as usual, and he was right: I’d run out of corn syrup in the middle!)

I look at the pan. It’s so scratched and hmmm… it’s got more than a few dents. Was that really once a shiny, smooth aluminum surface? The slide-on cover still works with a bit of maneuvering, which  makes it the perfect “take along” for a Shabbos visit. Should I replace it after, oh my, several decades of valued service?

This pan was the vehicle for how many birthday and parshah-themed  cakes, decorated with  Fisher-Price  people, little animals for “Noach’s Ark,” and miniature  trains for my train-obsessed four-year- old who’s now a father himself!

The tray holds a cake that’s the perfect size for cutting out round circles and ears for a pink-and-white frosted bunny that made a three-year-old’s eyes light up. These days, I use it to make a more sophisticated, eggless chocolate cake, filed under “dummy chocolate cake” in my worn personal recipe book.

No, I decide, I can’t replace this pan, particularly when it still works in spite of decades of use.