A little about "Man Rules"
Some of the hallowed "Man Rules" of life include:
"Never ask for directions when lost."
"Know when (and when not) to scratch your itchy balls."
"Piss off as many femi-Nazis whenever and wherever possible (unless they're hot and you think you got a chance, of course.)"
"Always lie about your net worth AND your level of sexual prowess."
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...
Near the top of this sacred list is this "Man rule":
"Never waste your time reading Consumer/User Operating Manuals."
If you live in Asia, you know exactly the manuals I'm talking about.
They are basically two-inch pamphlets that contain microscopic text - sometimes in your native language, but usually in Chinese.
But now I'm turning over a new leaf.
I've decided to abandon this "Man Rule" forever.
Why?
Because of a scary, potentially lethal event that happened a few days ago in my kitchen.
What, pray tell, happened?
Here's a hint: my new pressure cooker.
My First Pressure Cooker
I finally broke down and bought a pressure cooker to aid in my mushroom cultivation; specifically, the sterilization phase.
For the last five months, cheap ole' me had been sterilizing my grain spawn jars and substrate bags by steaming them in the biggest cauldron I have, topped with a ridiculous-looking tin foil tent.
Because this method is highly inefficient, resulting in many air, pressure and steam leaks, the process takes over four hours.
It consumes a butt load of stove energy in the form of propane or sometimes, electricity (my portable electric burner).
To make matters worse, maintaining the required temperature is a hit or miss - making the materials' sterility sketchy at best.
That's why I chose to finally spring for a pressure cooker, my first ever.
I knew that at 15 Psi, the pressure would produce an audible slow, steady "hiss".
(These days, I tell visitors not to worry about the hissing sound. "It's just my pet cobras in the kitchen".)
Anyway, I figured that with a pressure cooker, the sterilization process would be cut in half; meaning: much less heating energy required and the sterility of the items is almost guaranteed.
Easy Peasy? Not!
There I was, staring at my new pressure cooker - the same model I had seen my mother use when I was a little boy, ready to fire it up and start sterilizing my mushroom bags - but quickly and properly this time!
I methodically washed and dried the unit, filled it with three grow bags of mushroom substrate and lots of water (ass-uming the more water, the better).
Putting on the cover and checking the little, pyramid shaped pressure weight, I turned on my stove.
I waited for the water to boil, the pressure to accumulate, and to hear that beautiful "hiss" that signaled an internal pressure of 15 Psi.
But alas, "Easy-Peasy" was not to be.
After letting the water boil for over 30-40 minutes, it was no joy - no "hiss". Apparently, there was not enough internal Psi.
I removed and re-seated the pressure cooker's cover and waited for another 30-40 minutes.
Still nothing.
It wasn't until I repeated this procedure four times that I finally heard that beautiful "hiss" - the signal that 15 Psi had been achieved.
But...
Help! Explosive Decompression!
Two hours into the sterilization process, I experienced something very similar to this:
Luckily, I was in my bedroom and clear of the blast zone when it happened.
Also fortuitous was the fact that the only casualties of the explosion were the three mushroom bags. The explosive decompression splattered their smelly contents all over the rear kitchen wall.
(Warning: Tangent to follow.)
Funny thing.
The "substrate shrapnel" on the kitchen wall looked like a huge, but oddly engaging, Jackson Pollard painting.
Weird, no?
(OK, back on topic: The Pressure Cooker Explosion)
Perplexed about the event, I embarrassingly searched through my trash bin and dug out the User Manual.
Thankfully, there was an English version on the reverse of each tiny page.
Yes, I broke the "Man Rule"; but hey, desperate situations require...
Besides, no one was around to see me.
The User Manual clearly revealed what I had done to cause the explosive decompression:
I did not coat the synthetic gasket around the inside of the cover with vegetable oil.
I did not loosen the secondary relief valves on top of the cover.
I did not keep the beginning water level below the "Warning: Do Not Over-Fill" line; basically ensuring that the over-filled pressure cooker would explode.
I did not ensure that the pyramid weight was free of dust and debris.
I did not decrease the stove flame after the "hiss" was robust.
I did not monitor the pressure cooker for excessive shaking caused by uneven packing of its contents.
And a few other, moderate to minor "Do's and Don'ts" that, when taken as an aggregate, blatantly proved that I was another, common variety, "We Don't Need No Stinkin' User Manual, Male Idiot!
Nowadays, because of what I learned from the User Manual, no more Pressure Cooker explosions have occurred.
Consequently, I have since abandoned the "Ignore any Consumer Directions or User Manuals" rule forever.
Imagine that?
Submitted for your free moments to ponder.
Really Appreciate You Stopping By.
Truly hope to see you again!
May you and yours be well and love life today. - JaiChai