May 23, 2017 – Time versus heat in the kitchen – Let’s pressure cook.

        For years I was always under pressure when I worked.  Now I’ve shifted that pressure to putting my entrée under “pressure” as in pressure cooking supper.  It cuts time, is a one pot meal, and the results equal a tender and tasty pot roast in a jiffy. And, in our home without air conditioning, it keeps the kitchen much cooler than roasting in the oven for hours.

        My mother used to pressure cook often in order to get the meal on the table quickly for a hungry family.  I’d often hear the sizzle of the pressure regulator weight as I’d come in for dinner and knew something really good would be served up for dinner shortly.

        I have about 4 recipes I only make with my pressure cooker.

        Tonight I made Beef Bourguignon for no special reason except for something to eat for supper on a weeknight.  I’m barefoot, dressed in summer capris, and have just poured myself a nice glass of red wine in one of my best wine glasses. [They used to be saved for special occasions, but I save nothing for special occasions now. I enjoy my good stuff everyday now, no holding back.] I have just put all the ingredients in the pot, clamped the cover, and it is coming up to “jiggle” as I call it, as I sit down to my computer to blog.

        The phone rings and it is a dear friend who is still working in the fast paced, stressed, 24/7 on call, daily grind and she often complains about having no time or “no life” due to her demanding job. As usual, she is calling from her long commute home.

        “What are you doing?” She asks,

        "I’ve just started Beef Bourguignon.” I answer.

        “Oh, it sounds SO good.  I can almost taste it.” She says excited.

        “When will it be done?” She asks.

        It is not as if she can make a detour on the way home from work to drop in and partake of my cuisine as she is in Massachusetts and I am in North Carolina.  She knows it traditionally takes several hours to make.

        “I’ve got it in the pressure cooker – hardly any time at all.”

        “My grandmother used to pressure cook, but I’ve never done it.” She reminisces.

        “I guess you have to be brought up with it.  My Mom did it often.  I grew up with it.”

        “Is it dangerous?”

        I smile to myself, “Not if you read and follow the directions.”

        I thought, my mother worked 40 hours a week outside the home and she quickly got good food – soul food - on the table quickly after she got home from work.   Me, I followed suit and got a pressure cooker when I first set up household – over 40 years ago as I always worked outside the home.  It does frighten my husband, but it doesn’t frighten me.

        “The new ones are so much safer than the old days.  In fact, I think they have electric ones now.”  I add trying to put her at ease that I won’t be blowing myself up or something.

        “What’s the theory behind a pressure cooker, anyway?” She asks.

        “It’s quicker, the meat comes out tender, the flavor is more intense and it saves you gobs of time.”  I answer.  I wonder if it is the same theory as a convection oven and I can’t explain that either.

        “In fact, I think KFC pressure cooks their fried chicken.” I mention that trying to grasp at a mainstream use for pressure cooking.

        “Oh, I haven’t had KFC in years . . . . ”  She talks on and on about when and where and what she had at KFC the last time.

        I am smug. I smile to myself and sip my wine, again admiring the thin lipped wine glass.  I now have the time and have little money, but at this moment I feel like I have the world by the tail. I know I will have something scrumptious to serve my husband and myself in less than a half hour.  She on the other hand is only half way through her commute home from her stressful job and she’ll be starved when she gets home with us talking about food.

        She is in heavy traffic now and we say goodbyes.

Hanging up the telephone I contemplate my life compared to hers.  Yes, it is nice to be retired and plan meals and cook the old fashioned way and the cook gets a glass of wine for her efforts.

        Life is simpler now.  Life is good.  AHHH, this is what retirement is all about; I think I’ve finally figured it out.

        Pondering with another sip of wine . . .

. . . . I should have done this earlier – like when I was aged 45!