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(Image credit: Kelli Foster)

The first time I used my electric pressure cooker, I hit the start button and ran out of the room. Of course I’d read that modern pressure cookers were perfectly safe when used correctly — fear, however, allows no room for logic. My grandmother had once tried pressure-cooking, and I grew up listening to her tell the story of scrubbing tomato sauce off the ceiling after the ill-fated attempt. So I was fairly certain that my pressure cooker would malfunction.

Eighteen months later, my pressure cooker has earned a prized spot on the counter. Today, instead of making me nervous, I speak about it with Oprah-style enthusiasm, “You need a pressure cooker! And you need a pressure cooker! Everybody needs a pressure cooker!” But the biggest change? My slow cooker now sits collecting dust in the basement. Come to think of it, I really should KonMari that bad boy since it no longer brings any joy into my life.

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Filed under: Fitness