Dear OPOS,

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Thank you.

From one of your several patrons.

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You arrived in Melbourne in November 2020, nestled within an Agarwal Movers and Packers carton box, buried under heaps of Diwali फराळ as a Diwali gift from Didi. Engrossed in uncovering all the sweets and savoury items,  my excitement died before it was your turn, and you remained stuck inside the box.

I wonder if there was more to it than just my inertia.

Perhaps I wasn’t ready to have you in my life. Old habits are hard to break, and old relationships harder. I was committed to my cooking style and devoted to my pots and pans, spoons and ladles. And why wouldn’t I be? The Instagram madness  I was trying to keep up with—at least, I thought I was—demanded cooking dishes that not only tasted and looked beautiful, but also showcased a variety of cooking techniques.

Just a month after you arrived, I went for my first Vipassana course, and shortly after that, in early next year, I took my first Permaculture course. In the attempt to integrate newly learned practices into my daily life, there was hardly any time left to spend with you. Towards the end of the year, when border restrictions were being waived, I got a chance to visit India. I took you along, hoping to unbox you there. However, local trips, my struggle to quit smoking and other health challenges hardly left any scope for creative pursuits.

After spending almost 9 months in India, it was time to return to Melbourne. This time I was genuinely considering giving you a fair trial. Part of the reason was that by now I had bid farewell to Instagram—at least one addiction taken care of- and another reason was that I had to find a new place to live, which meant a new kitchen, a new beginning. 

After securing a job and moving to a new apartment, I started setting up my kitchen. Still struggling to quit smoking, I wasn’t keen on trying out anything new and found solace in my older ways of cooking. Everything around me had changed, but you were oblivious to it, being housed in the cardboard box.

For someone who loves to whistle in triumph and release their steam when surrounded by heat, to be waiting in the dark and cold environment of the box, isolated, without whistling even once for almost two years would have been dispiriting.

The tide began to change.

I got over my addiction to smoking. With renewed energy, I started adopting a healthy lifestyle. Instead of taking the train, I rode to work. Enrolled in swimming lessons. To cement my resolve not to go back to unhealthy ways of living, I signed up for my second Vipassana course.

The course turned out to be profoundly beneficial. I took an adhiṭṭhāna to maintain my daily meditation practice. Daily 2 hours of meditation, riding to work and swimming lessons after work meant I could reserve only an hour to cook and eat dinner. How do I cook my meals in such a limited time without compromising on nutrition and flavours?

The time had come to let go of my older ways and welcome you into my life.

OPOS - One Pot, One Shot Pressure Baker

Getting to know you initially seemed like it would involve a steep learning curve, but I was mistaken. By offering a helping hand in the form of flashcards, you helped me navigate the process step by step. The first step was standardisation.

OPOS Flash card - Standardisation

After standardisation, the entire process of preparing a meal was simplified to picking up a flashcard and following the printed instructions precisely. As a software engineer with a keen interest in cooking, this seemed achievable to me. I had a bottle gourd in my kitchen, so I searched for the relevant flashcard.

OPOS Flash card - Flash Juicy Veggies.

As instructed on the card, I added all the ingredients, closed the lid, and placed you on the stove. My mind was racing with various thoughts. I was accustomed to cooking in an open pot where I could see what was happening, allowing me to intervene if necessary. Now, I had to trust that everything would turn out well, and that was not easy for me. What if the food was overcooked? What if it remained undercooked? What if it burned? The fact that there was a "Standardization" process before helped me stay calm while everything was cooking. In just 2 whistles / 4 minutes, I would know whether I wanted to continue this relationship with you. It was time to release the pressure and face the truth.

As instructed, I marvelled at the colour.

They say, “When you see it, there is no need to believe it”. I was convinced that the bitter gourd was perfectly cooked. The flavor was well-balanced, and it looked fantastic, showing no loss of color or nutrition. I had no complaints at all. I reserved an hour to prepare my meal, but you delivered it in just two whistles! The total time it took me to prep, cook, eat, and wash the dishes was under 40 minutes. You exceeded all my expectations. This was a no-brainer—you were moving in!

It's no surprise that you're called a MagicPot. The experience of preparing a meal feels like watching a magic show. Draw a flash card, place all the ingredients in the pot, close the lid, and abracadabra! When the whistle sounds, it's the grand finale, and out comes a delicious dish amidst the steam!

From that day onward, I rushed home every evening to witness the magic.

Gobhi Masala

5 whistles / 6 minutes.

Dal Khichdi

8 whistles / 10 minutes.

Dal Khichdi plus tadka

8 whistles / 10 minutes + tadka!

Paneer Masala

3 whistles.

Aloo Gobhi

2 whistles / 6 minutes.

Kadhai Paneer

3 whistles.

Aloo Matar

2 whistles / 6 minutes.

Veg Biryani

2 whistles / 10 minutes.

Eggplant Rice

2 whistles / 10 minutes.

Poha

1 whistle / 4 minutes.

Mushroom Biryani

2 whistles / 10 minutes.

Maa ki Dal

4 whistles / 7 minutes.

Chana Masala

8 whistles.

Matar Pulav

2 whistles / 8 minutes.

Moong Dal Dry

4 whistles / 7 minutes.

Maggi Noodles

1 whistle / 2 minutes.

Upma

1 whistle / 5 minutes.

Do you remember the night I invited my friend Apurv to dinner? I wanted him to see your tricks firsthand. To make the spectacle more engaging, I drew this card from the deck.

OPOS Flash Card - Rajma Chawal.

Until that day, I had been cooking either curry or rice at a time. That day I felt like showing off your abilities. I hadn’t tried this recipe before, but I knew you would not let me down in front of my friend. As I added the ingredients one by one, my friend watched with curiosity. He remarked that he had never seen anything like this before and was amazed that we were about to prepare Rajma Chawal—a dish that is typically complex and time-consuming when made using traditional methods—in just 5 whistles!

While we were counting the whistles, Apurv mentioned that he enjoyed cooking but found the order of adding ingredients, particularly spices, confusing. He wondered which spice should go in first, which one should follow, and how long to wait before adding the next spice. These uncertainties kept him away from the kitchen. I explained how you have helped overcome this challenge. So long as someone can read English, identify and measure the ingredients, and add them in the specified order, they can easily prepare a delicious meal. No cooking involved. You make a novice feel like a chef! That’s huge!

Our conversation was interrupted by the final whistle. We rushed to the stove, eagerly waiting for the pressure to settle. When we opened the lid, we smiled.

Rajma Chawal - cooked together.

We finished our meal, but the conversations continued to revolve around you. Toward the end of the evening, he said, “Bhaiya, agar kabhi earthquake hua toh baaki sab chhod dena, bas OPOS lekar bhaag jaana” (Brother, if there is ever an earthquake, leave everything else behind and just run away with the OPOS). We shared a good laugh at that moment; however, his words truly captured your importance in my life.

Fortunately, there wasn’t any earthquake. However, a few months later, I went on a road trip and eventually left all of my kitchen items behind, except one thing: you.

OPOS Magic Show. Breakfast at one of the camping spots during the road trip . Semia Upma / Vermicelli. 2 whistles / 6 minutes.

P.S : OPOS, perhaps it wasn’t just you in the box for two years, so was I.

Khaana khaaya kya?

Logo of SHUBHAM’S KITCHEN Instagram page. Created using Canva

Moving to Melbourne has been one of the best things that ever happened to me. Migrants among you would relate to the concoction of an assortment of feelings that one goes through when one moves to an alien land. If you are lucky like me and are going through a relationship crisis at the same time, the concoction transports you to unforeseen avenues. Juggling through a roller coaster of emotions while trying to find my feet in a new country took a toll on my physical and mental health.

My mom had a unique way of showing care and expressing concern, both at the same time, packaged into one question. “Khaana khaaya kya ?” which is Hindi for “Did you have food?”. Her tone made me feel that she was not particularly happy whenever I used to say that I ate something outside. However, she used to sound elated whenever I used to mention that I cooked. I wondered why there had to be a vast difference in the tone even if the result was the same. I never asked her that.

With every passing day, I gravitated more towards cooking. Instead of just an audio response to THE QUESTION, I started sharing pictures of my meal on our family WhatsApp group. Cooking food and sharing pictures became part of my daily routine. Looking at the pictures and sharing feedback became part of theirs. Something felt missing when this did not happen.

Some of the initial set of food pictures shared on the family Whatsapp group

“Why don’t you post your pictures online? Like on Insta......” my sister tried to suggest. “Nah, I don’t see the point” was my reaction even before she could finish her sentence. Maybe she was able to see something in those pictures that I wasn’t. Nevertheless, the seed was sown in my mind. All it needed was the right conditions to germinate.

Around the same time, I was looking for a new place to live. A beautiful kitchen with a 4-burner gas stove stood first in my selection criteria. I was lucky to find one. The apartment was just the way I wanted and the open kitchen was the highlight. White tabletop. White dinner table. Light on top of the table. Yellow lights in the kitchen. Ample drawers to keep things organized. “This is perfect”, I thought.

The kitchen of my apartment in Melbourne.

I moved in. Stocked up my kitchen with the basics. Started cooking. Took some prints of my food pictures. Blue tacked them on the wall. The kitchen was coming to life.

Collage of my food pictures that I used to refer to as “Physical Instagram”

One day, my friend Harsh came over for dinner. Harsh has been my sounding board for quite some time now. I consider him my Instagram guru. He wholeheartedly supported the idea when I told him what my sister had been suggesting, multiple times now. I asked him several queries related to Instagram which he patiently answered. This was when Instagram was just about photographs. I miss that. We started brainstorming names for my page. I came up with one and asked him “Since this project is an experiment, how about calling it Food Lab ?”, “Nah, boring” was his prompt response. “Hmm, How does this sound to you? Shubham’s Kitchen”. “Perfect hai bhai, Chalu karo” (It’s perfect bro, go for it.)

That’s it. I got onto it. The algorithm was simple. Decide what to cook. Look for the recipe. Fetch the required ingredients. Cook. Take pictures. Taste. Love it? No? Just eat it. Yes? Edit the picture. Post it. Repeat.

The constant love I kept receiving from well-wishers online kept me motivated to keep improving my cooking, photography, and presentation, and I am extremely grateful for that.

A slideshow of some of the pictures that were published on Instagram @ShubhamsKitchen

As everything that has a beginning must have an end, I took down the page after two years.

I feel the project not only served its purpose but went beyond. I found the answer (or at least I think I have) to the question that I refrained from asking my mom. Her tone was simply a reflection of my state of mind. Back then, I used to cook only when I was in a good mood. Otherwise, I used to just order some food. No wonder her tone would vary based on my responses. She knew what would keep me sane much before I realized it. That interaction put into motion a series of events that eventually changed me. From cooking only when I was in a good frame of mind, to cooking to remain in a good frame of mind.

I continue to cook and share pictures with my family. But no longer as a response to the question “Khaana khaaya kya?”(Did you have food?) but as a response to the question “Aaj kya banaaya?” (What did you make today?).