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I never thought I’d be doing cooking posts beyond heartfelt odes to maggi. The very idea of preparing a real meal fires a panic attack. Being extremely accident-prone as a kid, I was never really allowed to fiddle in the kitchen too much – especially with that elusive pressure cooker.

I’d always stared at the pressure cooker in awe and fear, dashing out of the kitchen just before the whistle blew (sufficiently freaked out by all those stories of daughter-in-laws myseteriously dying due to bursting pressure cookers). So I’m rather surprised that I’ve finally succumed to its powers. I’ve been struggling with homemade food for Nibbles, and I’m competing with tasteless, commercial goo. I didn’t bother investing in a blender, and decided that chunkiness would make for interesting texture and easier transitioning into “real” food. Nibbles decided to disagree.

I rummaged through the bottles of homogenous veggies – carrots, winter squash, peas – when the pressure cooker nudged me, with its shiny grin. One whistle and 30 minutes later, I was totally smitten when I saw that it had converted a stubborn organic yam into the perfect pulp that was eagerly gobbled down by Nibbles.

Forget sliced bread. I can’t imagine life without this spiffy device!

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