Cooking Under Pressure

by Jesse Yancy
February 13, 2008

Sooner or later you’re bound to hear someone say they can’t boil water, or even worse (and this is the voice of experience speaking) hear it said about you.

Boiling water without a handy geyser was a mammoth leap for mankind, so much so that nowadays saying somebody can’t bring water to a boil casts a bad light not only on their cooking, but also on their other basic skills. Even chemists should be able to boil water, and it should be made an exit requirement on the MCAT and LSAT as well. Not even clergy should be exempt, and if you can’t boil water, I don’t want you fiddling with my fuse box, either.

Shortly after we brought water to a boil on our own, we learned how to steam foods in sealed, slightly vented containers. Given that pottery was still in its infancy then, pressure cooking was probably a messy, if not painful innovation; but steaming food was the Paleolithic equivalent of the microwave oven, introducing a quicker method of tenderizing dried grains and tough meats—the staffs of life before Stouffer’s. And because starches and tough cuts are inexpensive and nutritious—not to mention wonderful, when properly prepared—anyone who takes an interest in cooking should learn how to use a pressure cooker.

But this takes time. God knows I’ve burned everything except water at least twice, but when it comes to pressure cooking, I’m not taking all the blame. A pressure cooker can be as cantankerous as a maiden aunt, and almost as noisy; the cooker’s regulator jiggles and bangs about before releasing a steady hiss that lets you know it’s at full steam. Unlike most other kitchen activities, cooking with pressure involves hearing more than seeing or smelling.

The first step is to buy a cooker. I’m not prone to endorsements (meaning I don’t get paid for any), but Presto pretty much put the lid on canning kitchenware in North America, and after more than a century, their products are still an industry standard. A new four-quart cooker will set you back about $30. Once you tap into your inner earth mother and get into putting up your home-grown beets, you might buy a bigger, second-hand apparatus with dials and other gadgets; but until that happy occasion, become familiar with your new gallon of steam, and get to know how it works.

I recommend practicing with cooking dried beans because they’re cheap, and a quart of simply seasoned beans—especially the larger varieties such as kidneys, limas and garbanzos—goes a long way in dozens and dozens of dishes all across the menu. Kidney beans are a fine example of this versatility; these big red beans stand out in soups and salads as well as sides.

Before cooking beans of any kind, scatter them on a flat surface and remove any rocks or clumps of earth you’re likely to find, as you’re likely to find a few. Then cover them in water and pick out any detritus. If you want beans with integrity—meaning whole, firm beans—it’s a good idea to soak your beans overnight, but you can bring them to a quick boil and cool them down before cooking. The results are less satisfactory, but it will work in a pinch.

Pressure-cooked beans usually require two cups of fresh water per one cup beans, and kidneys, unlike black-eyed peas or lentils, are no exception. Beans also need a bit of oil in the cooker to prevent frothing, which could clog up the cooker’s vent and put a serious hitch in your get-along. The chemical processes that make dried beans and grains froth under pressure elude me, but I suspect this preventative measure is the culinary equivalent of an oil slick. What you do with your cooked beans is up to you. Kidney beans are wonderful on their own, big and meaty. They shine in stuffed peppers, chili and as a side with duck or beef.

When it boils down to it, learn how to cook under pressure. After all, if you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen.

 
posted by on 02/13/08 at 05:49 PM. [printer-friendly version]