Le Creuset Dutch Oven Review: I Found “The One”

“You have to be aligned on your core ingredients.”

That’s what my therapist advised years ago when I asked her the key to a successful romantic relationship.

She was surely referring to the big stuff — you know, kids, money, faith, values. But as a food writer, my mind went straight to the kitchen. Clearly, I should only commit to a lifelong partner who shared my unquenchable passion for food.

But years later, here I am, somehow betrothed to a guy who had the audacity to order a salad — just a salad! — at a swanky sushi restaurant on our very first date. Even worse: His cooking repertoire consisted solely of scrambled eggs and boxed mac and cheese.

And yet, our core ingredients are aligned. I knew this for sure when he gave me a Le Creuset Signature Round Dutch Oven on our first Christmas together nearly six years ago.

It was more than just a pot. It was symbolic of the everlasting relationship we would build, centered around food.

My partner, Dax, and I had very different upbringings, especially when it came to food. I grew up in a Venezuelan-Japanese household where every family gathering was centered around arepas, sushi, or sometimes both.

Dax, on the other hand, was fed a steady diet of TV dinners, chicken tenders, and fries.

I was concerned our disparate palates would be a dealbreaker when we started dating — the misaligned ingredient my therapist had warned me about — but as our love grew, so did his appetite. He tried Venezuelan empanadas, Indian samosas, and Peruvian ceviche for the first time.

Heartened by Dax’s increasingly adventurous palate, I showed my affection and appreciation by cooking evermore-elaborate meals for us. But this was tricky in my Dutch-oven-less kitchen. And Dax noticed.

He watched as I failed to evenly braise short ribs in a nonstick pan. He saw my valiant but futile attempts to contain an overflowing batch of chili in a small pot. He witnessed my foiled efforts to bake crusty bread on a humble sheet pan.

My exasperation bubbled. Dax quietly plotted a solution.

On a cold California Christmas morning, I unwrapped the signature bright-orange Le Creuset box, my eyes gleaming with joyful tears at all the delicious possibilities to come.

A Le Creuset Dutch oven is an expensive investment. One can cost upwards of $400, although it’s often on sale for much less. It’s the upgrade pick in our Dutch oven guide for good reason: Yes, it’s pricey, but it’s built to last a lifetime.

During rigorous testing, my colleagues found that its durable ceramic coating and the roomy 5.5-quart size made this Dutch oven a true workhorse, caramelizing onions, producing beautifully fluffy pots of long-grain white rice, and handling all manner of sautéing, searing, deglazing, braising, and baking with ease.

My beloved Dutch oven, in the color sea salt, is one of my most faithful culinary companions. It’s the sturdy partner I often turn to for braising fall-off-the-bone meats, baking homemade sourdough bread, slow-cooking my “famous” sweet, savory chili recipe, and so much more.

In January 2020, I charmed my soon-to-be in-laws by making them Julia Child’s iconic Beef Bourguignon. During the lonely days of the pandemic, it became the baking partner I relied on to produce dozens of sourdough boules. The following year, Dax and I used it on a portable induction cooktop for an elaborate shabu-shabu spread at home (my vision of what a TV dinner could, and should, be). And it’s my trusted cooking vessel for my spice-infused, Cincinnati-style chili recipe I make at least once a month (Dax’s favorite).

Although I’d like to think my Dutch oven is near perfect, it has a few minor faults.

The signature black phenolic knob that came with it is oven-safe only up to 480 degrees Fahrenheit, which isn’t ideal for high-heat cooking, such as when I need to preheat the Dutch oven to 500 ºF to bake a sourdough loaf. So I personalized mine with a large copper knob (sold separately), which can handle an additional 20 degrees and looks sleeker against the blueish-green color.

I’m obsessively protective of the enameled interior that can scratch if you aren’t careful. (Dax learned the hard way that we strictly use wooden or silicone utensils on enameled Le Creuset cookware in our household.) But even after six years, the inside of my pan is still in good shape.

While the Dutch oven is technically dishwasher-safe, I always wash mine by hand to avoid damaging it. But it’s substantially heavy (about 11 pounds), which makes it a little cumbersome to maneuver in my small sink. And when I accidentally scorch something in it, it’s tough to get the caked-on mess off with a flimsy sponge. Although simply boiling a pot of water usually does the trick.

The brand’s vibrant color selection and limited-edition releases have even amassed a fervent following, a group so dedicated to collecting these pieces that an article from The New York Times dubbed them “The Color-Drenched Cult of Le Creuset.”

But for me, the most important thing about my Le Creuset Dutch oven is what it says about my relationship. It’s a symbol of how our core ingredients became aligned. It’s a gift that showed just how much Dax knows and loves me. And it’s an heirloom-quality kitchen jewel, proudly (and permanently) displayed on my stovetop for everyone to admire, that will last as long as our marriage.

Which is to say, a lifetime.

This article was edited by Megan Beauchamp and Ben Frumin.