Like anything with a modicum of mainstream popularity, my reaction to the Instant Pot was initially dismissive. “I know how to cook,” I convinced myself, “I don’t need no novelty gimmicks to make good food.” Nevertheless, I bought one for work. Skepticism still coursed through my veins. But after just one batch of fork-tender pot roast in 45 minutes, the rest, as they say, was happily ever after.
Still, there was one threshold I refused to allow the Instant Pot to cross. It involved my trusted rice cooker—an extremely Asian rice cooker—a futuristic appliance you’d mock me for owning if you knew how much I paid for it. (It plays a song when it’s done cooking!) Rice was the last frontier, and I wasn’t about to allow this $70 Instant Pot to usurp my [grumble grumble]-dollar Zojirushi from Outer Space.
Well, what do you know.
This stupid $70 appliance invented in Canada makes the superior rice.
Better. And quicker.
(This briefly and legitimately stirred up feelings of an ethnic identity crisis—inner monologue: “We Asians shall not be defeated!”—until I realized how ludicrous this sounded. And not that it should assuage my cultural insecurities, but an out-of-work Chinese immigrant did invent the Instant Pot and became a gazillionaire.)
I now have zero hesitations declaring that the Instant Pot shall be our household’s appliance of choice for making rice. I make it the same way every time: