I don’t remember spending a lot of time in the kitchen as a youngster. While I have clear memories of how our kitchen was laid out, I have vague memories of what I did in there other than sit on the counter and pester Mom while she made pies and fried chicken in her cast iron skillet.
I do remember, though, frequently pouring myself a cup of life from the Mr. Coffee that sat in the corner and was always on and always full.
We were the 7-Eleven of our neighborhood.
Except without the scary roller thing that heats the hot dogs.
I’m sure part of the reason I didn’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen was because I preferred having my nose in a book, but the other reason was because there were occasions when I was deathly afraid to step one toe in there. Those were the days that Mom brought out that contraption known as…..the pressure cooker.
I don’t know if it was the hissing, the rocking motion, the sight of the violently escaping steam or the dire warnings from my mother to STAY AWAY FROM THE PRESSURE COOKER, but I was scared out of my skin every time she put that pot on the stove.
Would we put the rocker on the top at just the right time?
Would we be burned in the process?
Would this be the day it exploded?
Would the pot lid go flying across the room, knocking my mother out cold?
Would I have to drag her, unconscious, out of the kitchen by her foot as bits of molten potato rained down on all of us?
These were the questions that made me neurotic kept me up at night.
I’m pleased to report that we managed to make it through my childhood without a Pressure Cooker Incident, but the fear of one happening still remained, so much so that I didn’t even register for one when I got married (much to my mother’s dismay who to this day does not believe a kitchen is complete without one).
Well, Mom, you can rest easy now.
A couple of weeks ago when apparently Mr. CPQ was unsupervised watching Jacques Pepin make beans with a pressure cooker on PBS, he decided that we needed a pressure cooker. He didn’t have the same childhood hangups that I did, so he just hopped online, found one reasonably priced, and hit the “purchase” button. According to FedEx tracking, it arrives today.
Oh great, a cheap pressure cooker. This doesn’t have disaster written all over it….
Mr. CPQ is very excited about his new acquisition and I don’t want to dampen his enthusiasm because I may need it when I see something I really want like a new necklace or the iPad that’s coming out in a few months, so I am putting on my big girl britches, researching recipes, and trying to figure out a way to use it that doesn’t result in an unexpected visit from our nearby EMS station.
Have a nice day.