Pressure (Cooker)

Today my host mother bought a new pressure cooker. A year or so ago my mom made the same mistake. The results: strikingly similar. Upon her first usage each struggled intensely with the apparatus, laughing, yelling, contemplating throwing it as far as they could. Apparently these things drive you mad in any and every language.

The scene was one right out of a sitcom. How many Spaniards does it take to work a pressure cooker? is running through my head as Mercedes, Pedro, and Borja all toil over the futuristic looking cube like male models at a computer (*see here). Pure confusion, frustration with hints of laughter at their own inabilities. Fingers frantically push buttons to no avail. The constant beep of little electronic buttons is the only sound that interrupts the fragile and lighthearted tension. 

What starts as excitement for a new device quickly turns to frustration and loathing at the thing. We’ve all had the feeling of a strenuous struggle, painstakingly straining ourselves to rip that extra tough plastic they package things in these days. Upon failure frustrations leads to disdain, and disdain to a cognizance of the futility of both your efforts and your anger. This glass case of emotion boils past capacity (ironically, much like a pressure cooker)- exploding into laughter at the absurdity of the level of anger you were just seconds ago at. 

Finally we figure it out. A simple solution of course- the twist of a knob. It was no surprise the dish was burnt, and no disappointment either. We were prepared by this point for everything to go as horribly as possible. 

Or maybe the laughter we got from the whole situation outweighs the value of the chewy dessert that could have been. 

P.S. When I asked her where she bought it she said it was a gift, not to her, but a re-gifted gift originally for someone else... If you ask me they got so frustrated with it they did the right thing- they gave it away.