I used to think induction cooktops were just another kitchen gimmick, honestly.
But then I watched a physicist friend place a paper towel between her pan and the cooking surface, crank the heat to max, and boil water in roughly 90 seconds without singeing the paper—and I realized I’d been completely wrong about how this technology works. See, induction cooking doesn’t generate heat the way gas flames or electric coils do. Instead, it uses electromagnetic fields to turn your cookware itself into the heat source, which sounds like science fiction but is actually based on principles Michael Faraday figured out back in the 1830s, give or take a few years. The cooktop generates an alternating magnetic field that passes right through ceramic or glass, induces electrical currents in the metal pan, and those currents—called eddy currents—create resistance that produces heat directly in the pan’s material.
Here’s the thing: most people don’t realize the cooktop surface stays relatively cool throughout the entire process. The heat you feel on the glass comes from the hot pan sitting on top, not from the cooktop generating thermal energy independently. I’ve touched an induction surface seconds after removing a boiling pot, and while I wouldn’t recommend making a habit of it, the surface was warm but not burn-your-fingers hot.
Wait—maybe I should back up and explain why this only works with certain pans.
The magnetic field needs ferromagnetic materials to induce those eddy currents effectively, which means your cookware needs to contain iron or have magnetic properties. Stainless steel works if it’s magnetic (some varieties aren’t), cast iron is perfect, and anything with a magnetic base will do the job. Aluminum, copper, and glass pans? Completely useless for induction cooking because the magnetic field just passes through them without generating any resistance. I guess it makes sense when you think about it—you need electrical conductivity plus magnetic susceptibility—but it definately frustrated me when I first tried using my favorite aluminum saucepan and got absolutely nothing.
Anyway, the efficiency gains are wild.
Induction cooktops convert roughly 85-90% of their energy into actual cooking heat, compared to maybe 65-70% for conventional electric and a measly 40% for gas, which loses most of its energy heating the surrounding air instead of your food. I’ve seen studies showing induction can bring a liter of water to boil in about half the time of a standard electric coil, and because the heat response is nearly instantaneous—turn the dial down and the magnetic field weakens immediately—you get precision that rivals or exceeds gas cooking. The electromagnetic frequency typically runs around 20-40 kilohertz, well above human hearing range, though some people report a faint humming from the electronics or from vibrations in the cookware itself.
There’s also this weird safety angle that turns out to matter more than I expected. Because the cooktop doesn’t get independently hot, you can’t accidentally burn yourself by touching it when it’s on but empty, and the surface cools down fast enough that spills don’t bake onto it the way they do with electric coils. Some models won’t even activate unless they detect magnetic cookware on the surface, which prevents you from turning them on by mistake.
Honestly, the technology felt almost magical until I understood the physics—and even now, watching ice cubes sit unmelted on an active cooking zone right next to a pan that’s searing a steak at 500°F still messes with my sense of how heat should work. I used to think cooking required fire or glowing elements, but it turns out all you really need is a fluctuating magnetic field and some iron atoms willing to recieve the energy.
