The Industrial Steamer Stack

"It’s like a culinary equivalent of Richard Rodgers’ Lloyds of London." Words by Jack Hanlon and illustration by Lena

Everybody loves the steamer but nobody wants it in their own home. To be fair, it’s no ordinary domestic piece of kit, industrial in scale and design. Each pan-size basket is constructed from thick metal, and stacked together it’s 2 foot tall. Rather than the conventional use of perforated holes, the steam is conveyed through a pipe that runs vertically up the side of the stack. Screw operated valves jut out horizontally. This contrived pipe and valve mechanism allows the steam input of each basket to be managed individually. It’s like a culinary equivalent of Richard Rodgers’ Lloyds of London; adorned with functional pipes and full of hot air.

Full of hot air

The steamer arrives in London in the boot of my dad’s car. The cumbersome stack is held together with a series of beautiful knots, ensuring it doesn't rattle on the drive down south. Each steam release valve is knotted to the next with one continuous piece of thick blue rope. At the top the rope is fashioned into a plaited handle so the stack can be carried with ease. Swinging back and forth like an industrial picnic basket.

‘I think it’ll get more use here’, my dad explains to my sister as he deposits the steamer in the kitchen of her shared house. Admiration for the steamer and its knotted handle fills the room. Dumplings and vegetables on mass. Baskets are closed off and re-opened for the sheer thrill of it. Despite the warnings everyone burns themselves at least a little as steam shoots up the pressurized pipe.

In its honeymoon period the steamer is in high demand with Whatsapp messages pinging back and forth across group chats:

‘Can I borrow the multi-storey steamer at the weekend?

‘Do you mind if I abduct the steamer tomorrow night ??? Birthday Bao.’

But soon the steamer has outstayed its welcome. My time has come. I cycle round to my sisters with a vast pannier specially prepared. The steamer just about fits inside. At home I cook potatoes in the pan at the bottom and steam fish and vegetables in the basket above. I switch off the steam in a middle basket to utilize its special design features. Although I quickly remove the basket from the stack anyway, worried that the residual heat will be overcooking its contents nonetheless.

Eventually I too am looking to move the steamer on. I take it round to Angelos’ under the premise that it will be useful for a meal we are cooking. A friend of my parents picked it up in France I explain, or maybe in North Yorkshire. It was probably designed for use in a school canteen. We steam things and play around with the settings. Everybody admires the steamer's functionality, enamoured by its industrial charms.

The stack towers over the kitchen sideboard, casting a thick shadow across the electric hobs. It’s too large for a cupboard. A few months later Angelos is moving - ‘do you mind picking up the steamer this week?’

So I’m back on my bike heading to my sister’s with an industrial steamer stack rattling up and down in my pannier.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to keep it for a bit?’ asks my brother in law.

I shrug, ‘I think it’ll get more use here.’

‘Ok, we’ll put it in the loft for now.’