Just calling it like I see it.
Instant Pot

Instant Pot People are out of control. On top of the fact that they’re braising short ribs in under an hour, cooking dry beans in 15 minutes or less, and making huge batches of 3-minute, steel-cut oats, they will not shut up about it. Hear me out—I’m happy for you all! I’ve cooked with one before, and I am not here to dispute the convenience and ease that this revelatory appliance has provided to the average home cook. I’ll even go ahead and say that it is an incredible piece of equipment that might just revolutionize the way the average person feeds themselves and their family. And truthfully, I’m not even firmly opposed to owning one someday, but the fact of the matter is that I just don’t have one at this time.

With that said, I think it’s time that we create some socially-acceptable guidelines to accompany this profound multi-cooker. Instant Pot culture is something that needs to be addressed. Let me make this as crystal clear as I possibly can—I do not care about the out-of-body experience that occurred last night when you sunk your teeth into the most succulent, falls-right-off-the-bone pork shoulder after just 45 minutes of cooking. I did not need to know about the big batch of rice that you so perfectly steamed with your eyes closed and hands tied behind your back (I was busy charring my rice to the bottom of my saucepan at home, okay?). Oh, you made chicken broth in 30 minutes? That’s speedy! But, why are we still talking about your Instant Pot? Is there a section in the manual that details how to speak to non-Instant Pot owners? Clearly not, because if there was, this conversation would have ended 30 minutes ago.

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Oh, and don’t even get me started on that smelly ring! If I am subjected to another Instant Pot user (and abuser) rambling on and on about the rancid odor that they cannot get out of that troublesome plastic ring (“Haha how relatable!” chants every other Instant Pot owner on the face of the planet), I will lose my mind. You don’t talk to your coworkers about your salary, you don’t bring up your ex on the first date, and you do not discuss your malodorous kitchen appliances to literally anyone. That is a heinous topic of conversation, and I would appreciate it if you spared me of those foul details.

Look, I know. I probably sound like a jealous monster who is insecure about my lack of Instant Pot ownership. Honestly, you’re not wrong. However, somebody needs to address the fact that Instant Pot loyalists have become one of the most pervasive and influential groups in today’s society. I do not understand why it has to be like this, though. You don’t see Vitamix users, people that own microplanes, or French press enthusiasts marching around, boasting what their trusty kitchen item did for them, while simultaneously preaching an agenda to all of those around them. This pattern of unfiltered behavior is strictly associated with the Instant Pot fanbase. I dream of the day when I am not irrationally annoyed by the prospect of somebody bringing up their Instant Pot chronicles.

I love talking about food, and there is nothing that brings me more joy than hearing from others about small kitchen victories or exciting moments of culinary breakthroughs that occur while leaning over the stove. However, there’s something about listening to Instant Pot humble brags that feels overtly condescending, exclusive, and quite frankly, boring. So please, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate if you’d leave me to my 8-hour slow-cooking, my mess of various appliances stacked atop one another in my pantry, and my inability to cook a pot of rice if my life depended on it.

I’m happy that you’re happy, truly—now can’t I just bake my potatoes the way I know how?

By Sara Tane and Sara Tane