Goodbye to the air fryer as a new all-in-one kitchen device introduces nine cooking methods that go far beyond basic frying

The first time I heard the air fryer sputter its way through a tray of frozen fries, it felt like a tiny revolution humming away on my countertop. Less oil, less mess, more crunch—what wasn’t to love? But a few years, a dozen fads, and countless countertop gadgets later, my kitchen looked like an appliance graveyard: slow cooker in the back, rice cooker in the corner, toaster oven clinging to relevance, blender lurking beside a once‑beloved air fryer whose nonstick basket was starting to peel like sunburnt skin. It was like living with a pile of almost‑solutions. And that’s exactly when the new all‑in‑one device arrived—quietly, almost shyly—promising nine different cooking methods in a single, compact body.

The Day the Air Fryer Got Demoted

It happened on a Tuesday, which feels like the right day for small revolutions. I was half‑awake, standing in the blue‑gray of early morning, the kitchen still cool and shadowed. The old air fryer box, once proudly displayed, was now pushed aside on top of the fridge. In the center of the counter, this new machine sat like a minimalist sculpture: rounded corners, muted matte finish, a single dial, a screen dark as a lake at night.

The air fryer had always been loud about its presence. It whirred. It beeped. It took up space with the confidence of a device that knew it was the darling of food blogs and weeknight warriors. But looking at it now next to the newcomer, it suddenly seemed…limited. Fry, reheat, maybe bake if you didn’t mind guessing. That was its whole story. Like a one‑hit wonder who never moved beyond their first big single.

The new device promised more. Not with blaring labels or neon buttons, but with quiet certainty. Nine methods, one body, minimal drama. Frying, yes—but also steaming, slow cooking, baking, grilling, roasting, sautéing, dehydrating, and even sous vide. It didn’t shout for attention; it whispered, “You could make dinner simpler, you know.”

Meeting the Nine Methods

The first time I scrolled through the cooking modes, it felt less like scrolling a menu and more like being handed a set of keys. Nine methods, each one a door that used to require a different machine, a different plug, a different instruction manual that vanished the moment you needed it. Now they were just…there. In one place. No drama. No chaos.

Compared to this, the old air fryer began to feel like someone who brings one joke to a long dinner party and keeps repeating it. Yes, you can make crispy potatoes. We know. We’ve heard.

The first meal was a test, not of flavor, but of trust. Could this thing really replace the scattered ecosystem of gadgets I’d grown strangely attached to? I started small: steamed broccoli and air‑fried tofu, just to see how it handled two entirely different personalities on a plate. I set the steam mode, watched the gentle plumes of vapor curl up behind the glass, then switched to air fry, listening as the fan rose in a determined hum. The broccoli came out bright green, still tender; the tofu, blistered and golden at the edges, with that sought‑after crunch you can hear in your own head before you bite.

From Convenience to Craft

Beyond the Buzz of Hot Air

Air fryers were always sold on convenience. Toss, press a button, wait ten minutes, eat. They trimmed the fat, literally and metaphorically. But with convenience came sameness: breaded things, frozen things, beige things. Weeknights layered with the soft thuds of nugget bags hitting the freezer door.

The all‑in‑one device, though, doesn’t just chase convenience; it invites a kind of gentle craft. It doesn’t demand you become a chef. It simply gives you more ways to say yes to real food.

There was the Saturday when I woke to a sky the color of raw dough, the rain slow and patient. Perfect slow‑cook weather. Instead of unpacking the clunky old slow cooker, I tapped “Slow Cook” on the same machine that had just reheated pizza the night before. I browned onions on sauté mode, added beef, stock, rosemary, clicked the lid, and let the house fill up, hour by hour, with that soft, dark perfume of meat and herbs slowly surrendering to heat. Later, I flipped it to “Bake” for a pan of cornbread, right there in the same unit, the last drips of stew still clinging to the air.

That’s what the air fryer never offered: continuity. It existed in a bubble of hot, dry air, indifferent to the layers of a meal. This new device became a kind of anchor. Start here, stay here, finish here. Fewer dirty dishes. Less timing chaos. More meals that feel like they were made, not assembled.

The Quiet Power of Steam

I didn’t expect to fall in love with steam. Steaming had always been the afterthought in my kitchen—something that happened when I felt guilty and threw some broccoli over boiling water, hoping it might redeem an otherwise beige plate.

But the steam mode turned out to be a gentle, almost meditative presence. Fish fillets came out satin‑soft, the kind of texture you want to slide a fork into very slowly. Dumplings steamed beneath a lid that caught tiny beads of water and sent them gliding back down in a soft, even rhythm. Carrots, cut on a bias, turned bright and sweet, needing nothing more than a pinch of salt and a little butter.

Air fryers had always been about aggression: blast, crisp, rush. Steam, by contrast, felt like listening instead of shouting. And the most surprising part? The same device that created this calm, misted tenderness could, ten minutes later, roar into grilling mode and lay sharp brown stripes on eggplant slices as if it had been standing over a summer fire all day.

One Counter, Many Seasons

Summer Grill, Winter Oven, Autumn Drying Rack

We tend to think of cooking tools as static, but they have seasons just like anything else. The big oven belongs to December: roasts and cookies and trays of root vegetables. The grill is June and July: char and smoke and long evenings. The dehydrator, if you ever had one, is that strange September friend who helps you pretend you’re a person who regularly hikes with homemade apple chips in their backpack.

The new all‑in‑one slipped across seasons without fanfare. In summer, it became the indoor grill when thunderstorms rolled across the sky and the patio grill sat abandoned under a wet cover. Peppers blistered. Corn blackened in patches that smelled like county fairs and backyard noise. In winter, it turned itself into a stalwart oven for small roasts, radiating warmth into the room while snowflakes traced small, uncertain paths down the windowpanes.

On a crisp early autumn afternoon, I tried the dehydrate function, honestly expecting very little. I laid out thin coins of banana, fan‑shaped slices of strawberries, and modest wedges of apple, brushed with a whisper of lemon. Hours later, the fruit emerged leathery, concentrically sweet, and unexpectedly beautiful—an edible archive of the season. The air fryer could reheat leftovers with passable enthusiasm, but it never could have turned fresh fruit into something that tasted like memory.

Less Clutter, More Breathing Room

We rarely talk about how appliances make us feel when they’re not in use. Clutter carries its own emotional weight. A slow cooker you haven’t touched in months stares from the cabinet like a neglected promise. The rice cooker, the stand mixer, the panini press—each one an aspirational version of yourself you never quite grew into.

When a single device took over nine roles, the cabinets started to change. I donated the slow cooker to a friend with a bigger family and a smaller budget. The dehydrator went next; it had only ever had two legendary weekends and then spent the rest of its life as an oddly shaped dust magnet. Even the old air fryer, its once‑gleaming basket now worn and scratched, found a new home with a college student down the street, excited for anything that could make ramen nights more interesting.

What was left behind was space—actual, visible counter space and cabinet space, yes, but also mental space. Decisions grew simpler. Instead of asking, “Which gadget should I use?” the question became, “What do I want this to taste like?” Crispy, tender, slow, smoky, bright, soft. Then the dial answered.

The Future of Countertop Cooking

Goodbye, Single‑Purpose Hype

The air fryer changed how many of us cooked, and it deserves that credit. But like any fad, it was marketed as a miracle and used, in reality, for a narrow set of things. Baskets filled with frozen snacks. Reheated pizza slices. Oven tasks, sped up but not profoundly transformed.

The new wave of all‑in‑one kitchen devices does something quieter but more meaningful: it acknowledges that our kitchens are not showrooms; they are lived‑in ecosystems. Counter space matters. Time matters. Utility matters more than novelty.

Imagine a small apartment with one good patch of counter and a moody, inconsistent oven. For that person, this device is not a luxury—it’s freedom. It’s browned chicken thighs on a Tuesday, slow‑cooked lentil stew on a Sunday, a single baked cookie at midnight just because you can. It’s saying goodbye to the idea that you need a different plug‑in companion for every craving you have.

For families, it becomes a kind of shared language. One person steams dumplings after school; another slow‑cooks chili for game night; someone else dehydrates orange slices before the holidays. The machine becomes less an appliance and more an ongoing collaboration that lives at the center of the home.

Still Frying, Just Better

And yes, it still does what the air fryer did. It still lifts fries into that miraculous territory between soft interior and shattering exterior. It still makes wings that snap when you bite, grease pooled harmlessly in the drawer instead of clinging to your fingers. But now, those fries can be just one element of something bigger, more complete.

You can steam salmon in the bottom tray while crisping baby potatoes up top. You can bake a tray of spiced chickpeas for snacks all week, then switch to grill mode for char‑streaked zucchini when you get home late. Rather than a one‑note miracle, frying becomes a texture, a mood, a finishing touch in a much richer vocabulary.

A New Kind of Everyday Magic

One evening, after a day that felt longer than it had any right to be, I came home with almost nothing left in the tank. The old me—the air fryer era me—would have pulled a box from the freezer, tossed its contents into the basket, and called it survival. Instead, I opened the fridge and saw a different kind of possibility.

Half a head of cauliflower. A package of halloumi cheese. A lonely lemon. Some herbs that had clearly seen better days. Not exactly a recipe, unless your recipe is “give up and order takeout.”

I chopped the cauliflower, tossed it with olive oil, smoked paprika, and salt, then spread it on the tray with a little space between each floret. Roast mode. The kitchen warmed slowly, the faint spice lifting into the air. Halfway through, I tucked thick slices of halloumi on the top rack and flipped it to grill for a final blast. The cheese took on faint grill lines, softening just enough to give under pressure. The cauliflower caramelized at the edges, each piece a different shade of toasted gold.

Lemon squeezed over the top. Herbs, whatever was salvageable, scattered like confetti. Ten minutes of effort, maybe twenty of waiting. The kind of meal that once would have required the oven, a grill pan, more dishes, more cleanup, more excuses not to bother.

As I ate, I realized this was what the goodbye to the air fryer really meant: not abandoning convenience, but redefining it. Convenience was no longer just about speed or minimal dishes. It was about flexibility, about being able to stand in front of the fridge after a long day and not feel defeated by raw ingredients. It was about knowing one device could meet you where you were—tired, rushed, inspired, curious—and make something real out of whatever you had.

So, Is This the End of the Air Fryer?

Maybe not for everyone. There will always be people who are perfectly happy with what the air fryer does, and if that’s you, there’s nothing wrong with sticking to it. But for many of us, the shine has worn off the single‑purpose miracle. We’ve learned that kitchens, like lives, get crowded when we keep bringing in new things that only do one trick.

The all‑in‑one device doesn’t just air fry; it expands what’s possible in the same footprint. It’s a quiet nudge toward cooking that’s less about gadgets and more about ingredients, less about hacks and more about habits. It invites us to move from reheating to making, from following preset buttons to trusting our own taste.

Goodbye to the air fryer, then—not with bitterness, but with the fondness you reserve for an old friend who helped you through a particular season. It arrived when we needed it. It taught us that we could have crisp without deep vats of oil, that we could have “fast” and “better” in the same sentence.

But this new chapter goes further. It steams, grills, roasts, bakes, dehydrates, slow‑cooks, sautés, sous vides, and—yes—still fries. It lives on the counter not as a symbol of a trend, but as a quiet, steady companion to the daily work of feeding ourselves. Less clutter. More possibility. A single device that doesn’t just promise convenience, but offers a more spacious way to live and cook in the same four kitchen walls.

FAQ

Is an all‑in‑one device really better than a dedicated air fryer?

For most home cooks, yes. It offers air frying plus additional methods like steaming, baking, roasting, and slow cooking. That means you get the crispy results you’re used to while replacing several other appliances, saving both space and effort.

Will the air fry mode be as crispy as my old air fryer?

In modern all‑in‑one units, the air fry function typically matches or even exceeds older air fryers. Stronger fans, better airflow design, and more precise temperature controls often deliver equal or better crunch and browning.

Is it complicated to switch between modes?

No. Most devices use a simple dial or touchscreen. You choose a cooking method—air fry, steam, bake, grill, etc.—set time and temperature, and the machine handles the transition. In many cases, you can go from sauté to slow cook or bake without even changing pans.

Can one device really replace my slow cooker, steamer, and oven?

For everyday cooking, yes. While a full‑size oven is still useful for very large batches, an all‑in‑one can handle typical family meals, stews, steamed dishes, small roasts, and baking projects with ease, especially in smaller kitchens.

Is this type of device worth the investment?

If you’re short on space, tired of multiple gadgets, or looking to cook more from scratch with less hassle, it usually is. You gain nine cooking methods in one footprint, reduce clutter, and open the door to more varied, fresher meals without making your kitchen feel like an appliance showroom.