Blowing Up the Kitchen



Revel in the glory of the Fagor!

When we were getting married, Teddy and I registered for a pressure cooker. No one bought it, but we got plenty of gift cards, and we had our completion discount, but we didn’t buy it. Mainly because while I wanted one, I was freaking terrified of it.

My MIL would make daal in hers, placing yellow lentils, curry leaves, mustard seeds, cut potatoes, and who knows what else inside, attaching the lid, and then literally cower on the other side of the kitchen while it cooked away on the stove, making one if my favorite foods. She would serve her daal with poori, a puffy fried bread, but she wouldn’t cook the poori until the daal was done, afraid the pressure cooker would explode while she was standing next to it.

This gave me little reason to trust any pressure cooker.

But Teddy found this one by Fagor. It’s electric, and supposedly it won’t blow up.


My first time using it, I decided to make a spiced oatmeal that was in the recipe book it came with. Irish oats in 7 minutes. This I had to see.


The Fagor (Teddy insists we call it this, instead of just the pressure cooker, because he’s awesome and silly and a little weird) has two pressure settings, two slow cooker settings, and a browning setting. Sadly, it doesn’t build up enough pressure for pressure canning. Someday …


The recipe was easy. Some butter, the Irish oats, cut pears, spices, salt, and water.


On the browning setting, I melted the butter, then added the oats and spices, stirring everything together.


Add the remaining ingredients, give it a good stir. Now here’s the test. I put the lid on. I took it off, looked closely at the locking pin. OK, that’s what it looks like. Put the lid on. Stare at the locking pin. Get nervous. Wander into the living room. (Teddy: “how’s it going?” Me: “you know, fine.” Teddy: “is it cooking?” Me: “uhhh, yeah?”) Go back to the kitchen. Hover over the Fagor. Re-read the instruction book. Irish oats should have cooked twice by now. Argh.

[That was not an exaggeration.]


I finally just went for it. What was the worse that could happen? I hate that ugly pink kitchen anyway.

But guess what? It didn’t blow up!

It was yummy and we really liked it. Belly Monster even liked it, eating a bunch of mine, asking with her apple sauce. It didn’t need any extra sweetener added, just a little whole milk.

I did it again a week later, this time leaving the skin on the fruit. I liked it, Teddy didn’t, so something to consider but no guarantees.

Now to get a killer daal recipe …


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