My Instant Pot obsession started innocently enough, with a resolution to finally crack down on processed food.
Guess what? Unprocessed food takes time and attention. A good pot of brown rice takes 45 minutes or more, and still didn't soften enough to suit me. Steel-cut oats? There goes a half-hour and I scorched way too many pots because of other morning distractions.
Then I started hearing from friends about the Instant Pot, a culinary Swiss Army knife that does it all: pressure-cooks, steams, slow-cooks, makes yogurt and probably does your laundry if it finds a spare minute.
Electric pressure cooking may be what the Instant Pot is best known for. If you're like me, the traditional pressure cooker has always sounded slightly terrifying in a scraping-sauce-off-the-ceiling kind of way. The genius of the Instant Pot is that it takes away the worry. First, you physically cannot open the pot while it's under pressure, so the "danger" is gone.
My first foray — steel-cut oatmeal — was magical: creamy and tender, with a deep oat flavor. The recipe in the accompanying booklet calls it 3-minute oatmeal. That's a little misleading. The pot needs to build pressure before cooking and to release it afterward, so you should add 10 to 15 minutes on the front and back ends to whatever cooking time you see. That said, the attraction here is that, unlike your stovetop pot, your Instant Pot requires no watching.
Oatmeal, black beans, farro, lentils, frozen chicken, pork tenderloin, chili — whatever you're cooking, once you punch in the time and lock the lid, you walk away.
After a week or so, the slow cooker that had been with me since college was relegated to the basement. A week after that, the Dutch oven went there, too, along with the cast-iron braiser. I may still use them occasionally, but the Instant Pot has become a mainstay. I can come home from work, throw in dried chickpeas, water and seasonings, walk the dog and come home to a creamy potful, ready for add-ons.
Over the holidays my son invited several college friends to watch football. I went to the freezer, unwrapped a rock-hard turkey tenderloin, added a packet of Frontera slow-cook chipotle chicken sauce, cut up red and green peppers and a large onion. I set the timer for 20 minutes and said a little prayer (these boys were hungry). When it beeped, I released the steam, shredded the meat, now tender and well-cooked. Unlike a slow cooker, nothing was mushy and everything still tasted like itself.