Under Pressure

I am a pressure cooker goddess.

I had coveted one since visiting my sista cousin in Toronto and watching her whip up these fabulous soups and stews in the blink of an eye. They tasted like they had been slow cooked for hours and you know, I am all about modern equipment that gives the illusion of me slaving over a stove.

Dallas and I received two pressure cookers as wedding gifts and my first attempt at trying to use them nearly had me calling our insurance agent. In the instruction manual that I didn't read, there was a complimentary recipe for Coq au Vin. Yummy. Easy. Or so I thought. I dumped all of the ingredients in the pot, managed to get the lid closed and put the heat on the highest setting possible. The pressure quickly built in the pot and within minutes, the thing was positively ROCKING on top of the stove. I remembered from watching my cousin that this was a desirable effect. So, I left it there and soon, the kitchen was overcome with the smell of something burning.

Dallas: "Something's burning."

Me: "I know it seems that way but the cookbook says 25 minutes."

Dallas: "Are flames supposed to be shooting out of the lid like that?"

Actually, it wasn't that bad until we opened it. The meal looked savoury enough if you overlooked the floating pieces of charred chicken. The entire bottom of the pot was coated in a thick, scorched film of slurry. It tasted like charcoal. I was crushed. And the kitchen had a stale burnt odour for days. Visions of Norman Rockwell inspired mealtimes with the kids around the table, happily lapping up their nutritious stew were permanently dashed when Dylan walked into the kitchen, glanced in the pot and said, "That looks gross, Mum. What's for dinner?"

It all started with instruction manuals that were in-freaking-comprehensible. I am not kidding. I am able to wrap my brain around imaginary numbers but learning how the lids went on these pots took me nearly thirty minutes to figure out. The author of said manuals was either unfamiliar with the English language or a freaking sadist. So, I called sista cousin and she patiently went through the operation of the pressure cooker, step by step. Now that I know how to use it, the directions could have been written on a single page:

1. Put stuff in the pot.
2. Put the lid on. (Ask your first grader to help with this task)
3. Turn the burner on high.
4. When the yellow thingy pops up, turn the heat down and set timer for 25 minutes.
5. When timer goes off, turn dial to release steam.
6. Remove lid (again, the elementary student should come in handy to help you figure this out because they read picture books well and will understand the ridiculous symbols on the dial)
7. Serve.
8. Bathe in the accolades touting you as a fabulous cook.

This week, I have had both pressure cookers going at the same time so I was able to prepare dinner a day ahead without the slightest inconvenience.

Look at me.

I am the model of modern day woman efficiency. Come worship at my stove.

Yeah. Or get yourself a pressure cooker and get your goddess on.