Goodbye air fryer : this new kitchen gadget goes far beyond frying, offering nine versatile cooking methods in one device

The first time I heard it hiss, I thought something was wrong. A low, steady exhale, like a kettle trying to calm itself down. The kitchen filled slowly with the scent of blistering tomatoes and roasted garlic, while a whole chicken turned lazily on a hidden spit. It was a Tuesday, the kind of day that usually meant rushed dinners and half-thawed leftovers. Instead, I stood there barefoot on the cool tiles, watching a new kitchen gadget quietly rewrite my weeknight routine—and, if I’m honest, making my old air fryer look a little obsolete.

The moment the air fryer stopped being enough

The air fryer had a good run. It crisped fries, revived soggy pizza, and made late-night snacks feel almost virtuous. But after a while, it became just another single-purpose gadget crowding the counter, humming away dutifully while the oven still handled roasts and the slow cooker took care of stews. The real problem wasn’t that the air fryer was bad. It was that it only did one thing really well—and my life demanded more than that.

Cooking has changed. We want roasted vegetables that taste like they came from a backyard fire pit, bread that crackles when you tear it open, yogurt cultured at just the right temperature, and a pot of beans that didn’t require hovering over a stove. We want slow and fast at the same time. We want comfort food on a timeline that fits between Zoom calls, homework help, and the dog pacing by the door.

That’s where this new device sauntered in, quietly confident, not just another iteration of “air fryer but bigger.” Call it a multi-oven, a smart cooker, a countertop command center—whatever label you choose, it goes far beyond frying. In a single compact body, it folds in nine different cooking methods, each one waiting for its moment to shine.

The first night I tried it, I told myself it would just replace my air fryer. Instead, it started replacing my oven, my slow cooker, my dehydrator, my rice cooker… and, on some days, my will to order takeout.

The 9-in-1 promise: more than a pretty countertop gadget

The magic of this new kitchen companion isn’t just that it can “do a lot.” Plenty of appliances boast multiple preset buttons and then leave you guessing on timing, texture, and taste. What makes this one feel different is how intentionally the nine cooking methods are woven together, letting you move from searing to baking, or from proofing to crisping, without juggling pots and pans.

Picture this: you start with a pan of marinated vegetables, toss them into the device on roast mode, then switch to grill to kiss them with char at the very end. Or you slow-cook a beef stew all afternoon, then finish it with a blast of convection heat that caramelizes the top just enough. This isn’t just a fryer with delusions of grandeur. It is more like a tiny, patient sous-chef who understands that good food is layered in stages.

Here’s a snapshot of the nine core methods working behind the scenes, each one a different personality waiting to step out:

Each of these modes is like a musical instrument. Alone, they can carry a melody; together, they create a whole symphony of texture, aroma, and flavor—a far cry from the one-note crunch of basic air frying.

The day dinner cooked itself (almost)

The second week I had the multi-cooker on my counter, a storm rolled in right around 5 p.m. You know the kind—sky bruised purple, the air holding its breath. My to-do list was still scowling at me from the table. Everyone was hungry. Old me would have given in to the siren call of takeout apps. New me opened the fridge, sighed at a pack of chicken thighs and a handful of fading vegetables, and decided to test this gadget’s promises.

I tossed the chicken with olive oil, smoked paprika, garlic, and a squeeze of lemon. The vegetables—carrots, onions, and that lone bell pepper that had seen better days—got the same treatment. Everything landed in the roasting tray, and I tapped the screen: roast mode, then a finish under grill for the last few minutes. While the machine hummed to life, I rinsed some rice, added water and a pinch of salt to a small heatproof dish, and slid it in beside the tray.

The air that filled the kitchen felt like standing too close to the door of a small neighborhood restaurant—warm, heavy with the smell of caramelizing onions and crisping chicken skin. No pan to babysit, no splatters to wipe up. The storm outside finally broke, rain tapping on the window in soft percussion, and inside, the timer beeped gently as if to say, It’s ready, take your time.

I opened the door and a wave of heat rolled out, fogging the glass for a moment. The chicken glowed a deep burnished gold, edges of fat crackled and rendered. The carrots had softened, catching just enough char to make their sweetness louder. The rice? Fluffy, each grain separate, quietly perfect. The entire meal had happened in one enclosed space, without me hovering.

That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t just about more modes or clever presets. It was about reclaiming the space between starting dinner and sitting down to eat. The device didn’t make me love cooking more; it made loving cooking easier.

The quiet revolution of steam, precision, and patience

Among the nine methods, the ones that truly stretch beyond the air fryer’s reach are the gentler ones—the soft touch of steam, the monk-like patience of low temperature, the steady warmth of slow cook. These aren’t showy techniques. They don’t sizzle on social media the way crunchy wings do. But they’re the ones that most reliably turn a rushed dinner into something that feels like care.

The first time I used the steam+ bake function, it was for bread. I’m no artisan baker. My loaves are usually more “respectable doorstop” than “Parisian boulangerie.” But I mixed a simple dough, let the device handle the proof at a steady, cozy warmth, then switched to steam-assisted baking. As it worked, tiny beads of condensation gathered on the door and then vanished again, a quiet ritual of moisture and heat.

When I pulled the loaf out, the crust sang—a delicate crackle as it cooled—and the inside was soft, almost feathery. Not bakery-perfect, but leagues better than my attempts in a dry, impatient oven. I sliced off a heel, still too hot to handle, and watched the butter melt and pool into the open crumb. This, I thought, is what most of us actually want from our kitchen tools: not perfection, but the feeling that our efforts have been gently amplified.

Then there was the salmon. I slipped two fillets onto a tray, sprinkled with salt, pepper, and dill, and set the device to steam. No sizzle, no drama—just a quiet cloud inside. Eight minutes later, the fish flaked with the gentlest nudge of a fork, pearly and moist, no chalky dryness, no overcooked edges. The air fryer, for all its skill with crunch, could never manage that kind of tenderness.

On another night, when the house felt tired and cold, I tried slow cook mode. A tangle of onions, a handful of lentils, crushed tomatoes, and a generous spoonful of smoked paprika went into the pot. I set it on low, walked away, and by the time twilight softened the edges of the house, their separate flavors had collapsed into something deep and soothing. A pot of lentil stew waited quietly, corners of the kitchen smelling faintly of woodsmoke and patience.

What replaces what: the slow goodbye to clutter

When a single device claims it can do nine different things, skepticism is healthy. We’ve all seen clutter disguised as convenience—gadgets that promise to simplify the kitchen but end up burrowed in the back of a cabinet after a month. The difference here is that, as the weeks went by, my countertop actually grew emptier.

The air fryer was the first to go, its basket suddenly too small, too rigid in its purpose. Next, my old slow cooker migrated to the pantry, demoted but not entirely exiled. The standalone dehydrator I used once a season for apple chips retired with a faint sense of relief.

There’s something oddly satisfying about owning less but doing more. Where there used to be a teetering pile of gadget boxes and orphaned instruction manuals, now there’s just one quiet machine, its faceplate smudged from daily use, its interior tracked with the echo of past meals. It doesn’t yell for attention; it simply waits.

And perhaps that’s the most unglamorous but profound change: cleaning. With the right inserts and trays, scrubbing becomes less of an ordeal and more of a quick rinse. Fewer corners to dislodge crumbs from, fewer baskets with hidden seams and trapped grease. The air fryer once left me with a sink full of awkward-shaped parts. This new device asks only for a soapy sponge, a simple gesture, and the promise of tomorrow’s meal.

How it quietly reshapes your cooking rhythm

If you listen closely—to your own routine, not the marketing—you start to notice where this kind of gadget tucks itself into your day. Breakfast becomes a pan of roasted sweet potatoes and eggs baked in little wells, all in one go. Lunchtime leftovers get revived not just reheated, with a gentle warm function that keeps the edges from turning brittle. Dinner might begin as a slow-cooked base in the morning and finish under a grill at dusk, a seamless handoff between modes.

What emerges isn’t just convenience; it’s a new rhythm. You start thinking less in terms of individual tools—“Do I use the oven, the air fryer, the pot?”—and more in terms of what the food needs. Gentle or fierce heat? Moist or dry environment? Quick or lingering? The device becomes a translator between intention and result.

From skepticism to second nature

None of this happened overnight. At first, I eyed the control panel with the wariness of someone who has been burned by “smart” appliances that feel anything but smart. I missed the simplicity of twisting a single knob on the air fryer and walking away. But here’s what surprised me: complexity faded with familiarity.

The presets stopped feeling like mysterious buttons and more like familiar friends. Roast 1 for dense root vegetables. Bake 2 for cakes that need a gentle rise. Steam+ bake for chicken that needed to stay juicy. Before long, I was barely glancing at the manual. My hands knew where to go. My nose knew when to check.

One evening, a friend came over and watched me throw together a haphazard dinner—leftover rice sizzling into a crisp-edged cake under a blast of convection heat, a fillet of fish steaming quietly on the upper rack, broccoli roasting alongside. “Isn’t it confusing?” she asked, leaning on the counter. “All those modes?”

I paused, trying to remember the last time I’d thought about them as separate. “It was,” I admitted. “But now it’s just… cooking.”

That’s how you know a tool has earned its spot. When the novelty wears off and what remains is ease. Not showmanship, not the thrill of the new—just daily, ordinary usefulness that makes a Tuesday night meal feel soft around the edges.

Why goodbye to the air fryer feels strangely freeing

Saying goodbye to a trusty gadget feels almost disloyal. The air fryer democratized crispy food. It helped nervous cooks feel braver, busy parents feel more capable, late-night snackers feel—if not exactly healthy—then at least less guilty. It was part of a moment.

But there’s another kind of progress unfolding quietly in our kitchens now. A shift away from single-purpose tools and toward devices that understand the full arc of a meal, from patient simmer to blistering finish. A shift from “How fast can I get this done?” to “How well can I do this within the time I have?”

Goodbye, air fryer, then—not with disdain, but with gratitude. You got us hooked on the joy of hot air and fast results. Now we’re ready for something deeper, more flexible, more attuned to the messy, layered reality of real home cooking.

This new nine-in-one gadget doesn’t just fry. It steams, bakes, roasts, grills, dries, and waits. It meets us where we are—tired, hopeful, hungry—and helps us turn fridge odds and ends into something that smells like comfort and tastes like care.

And on some quiet evening, when you set a pan of vegetables inside, tap a button, and walk away to sit by a window while the rain drums on the glass, you might find yourself wondering how you ever settled for just an air fryer and a prayer.

FAQs

Does this type of 9-in-1 gadget fully replace an air fryer?

Yes, in most cases it replaces an air fryer completely. It includes an air fry or convection mode that crisps food just as well, usually with more space and better temperature control, plus many additional functions your air fryer can’t perform.

Is it harder to use than a regular air fryer?

It may feel more complex at first because of the extra modes, but the learning curve is short. Most models rely on clear presets, intuitive icons, and simple temperature and time controls. After a few uses, switching between roast, steam, and bake becomes second nature.

Will it take up more counter space?

The footprint is often a bit larger than a compact air fryer, but it lets you retire multiple other appliances—like a slow cooker, toaster oven, dehydrator, or bread proofer—so overall you usually gain space, not lose it.

Can I bake real bread and cakes in it?

Yes. The dedicated bake and steam+ bake modes create a more oven-like environment than a typical air fryer. Steam-assisted baking, in particular, helps produce better crusts on bread and moist, tender cakes.

Is it energy efficient compared to using a full-size oven?

Generally, yes. Because it’s smaller and heats up quickly, it uses less energy for most everyday cooking tasks, especially for small to medium meals. It’s designed for countertop convenience without the waste of heating a large oven cavity.