Driving down Vashon Highway on a Saturday in May, there can be no doubt that garage sale/porch sale/estate sale season is in full swing.

I’ve heard that people shop a sale with the pure intention of beefing up their own upcoming event. Others, with Ebay accounts, pack up recent purchases and send them off to establish residency far from Vashon. But for the most part, our stuff stays here. Islanders are supreme recyclers. We take it to Granny’s. We consign at Lost and Found, Luna Bella and others. We put our no longer needed items out there and bring home that which we didn’t know we needed.  Sometimes we unknowingly find a true prize.

I acquired my treasured big, black cast iron fry pan in just such a serendipitous way. The week I finished my last college exam, I packed up my VW Bug with every earthly possession and headed into my newly enlightened future. It was also the designated week to clean out my grandma’s apartment. First pick went to family; the rest of it to the church-run second hand store.

My Uncle Jim had very sharp eyes. He leveraged first right of refusal in the living room. I figured there would be no apparent valuables in the kitchen.

In that sunny, memory-filled space, I stealthily opened cupboards and quickly filled boxes, which is how I absconded with that hulking piece of metal, weighty with still undiscovered purpose and already well seasoned by years of use. On the bottom in raised letters it was marked “Griswold 9, Erie, PA. U.S.”

Did I know how great that find was? Not then. Maybe not even for the first 10 years. Yes, I went through an 80’s Teflon phase, relegating the Griswold 9 to the bottom of the drawer.  But I would never part with it because it was my Gram’s. Now I would never part with it because it’s about the finest piece of cookware I own.  Seriously.

I’ve called Griswold 9 into duty for everything from a fancy roast chicken to a boy-pleasing Dutch Baby to spaghetti sauce for a crowd to car camping bacon and pancakes. That pan never fails me.

This being the season for commencements, you might know a newly minted college grad and are struggling for a congratulatory gift that, unless it’s a new iPhone with contract, won’t look chintzy.

Hint: A cast iron frying pan will turn out to be the best gift they will get, even if they don’t realize that for many years and cast you as out of touch, which you will discern from the extremely brief thank you note — when it comes.

You can often nab a beautifully seasoned cast iron masterpiece at a Vashon garage sale. Or Granny’s. Or a brand-spanking new one at the True Value. Monumental, serious and made in the U.S. I can recommend the Griswold 9 if you are lucky enough to find one and generous enough to give it away.

— Margaret Heffelfinger is an island writer and painter with a blog  about her recipes, neighbors and friends at www.therecipepackrat.blogspot.com.