Recently, water began seeping onto the kitchen floor from under the dishwasher and leaking into the basement to form a small rivulet on the basement floor. I used a turkey baster to remove the shallow reservoir of water that was sitting in the bottom of the washer and then fished around in the outlet drain to remove a few of the plastic prongs that had broken off the upper dishwasher rack. Bob’s your uncle I thought and so I started to survey the washer’s control pan on top of the open door. Twenty plus years ago I you had to push was auto wash and dry. I stared down in confusion at the choices; rinse and hold, eco wash, delayed start, normal, and quick wash. I selected quick wash and closed the door. I smiled when I heard the water starting to swish around inside the washer; it was working. But then water appeared from under the washer and another rivulet appeared in the basement.
The dishwasher repair man after manoeuvring the washer out of it’s snug cubbyhole and performing a series of tests, and cellphone calls, concluded that the drainage pump was the problem. We got the dishwasher twenty plus years ago from rummaging around in the returned appliance section of Omaha’s own furniture, appliance, electronics, flooring and home decor shop. We were told the brushed nickel ASKO was returned by an interior designer; it just wasn’t right when it was stationed in the new somewhat finished kitchen. The price, though discounted because it was returned, was still more than a Whirlpool or Kenmore. It seemed that twenty plus years ago mid westerners weren’t impressed or didn’t appreciate environmentally friendly, Swedish designed, water and energy efficient dishwashers.
The dishwasher repair man told us that he would have to order a replacement drainage pump from ASKO; his company didn’t keep parts on hand for a twenty plus year old Swedish dishwasher. A phone call a few days later to the appliance repair companies head office confirmed that the replacement pump would cost around $470.00; without installation and labour. And it would take a week or more once the pump was ordered for delivery. Our ASKO was the cadillac of dishwashers so we spent a couple of days weighing the pros and cons of spending $600.00 on a twenty plus year old appliance; or buying a new one.
We decided on a new dishwasher. Omaha’s own furniture, appliance, electronics, flooring and home decor shop has incredible selection of energy efficient dishwashers that are guaranteed to quietly clean the dirtiest plates, glasses, and silverware while you help yourself to an ice cold sherbet. We hovered around a stainless steel Bosch 24″ recessed handle built in 300 series; a dishwasher engineered by German perfectionism and precision.
On the top of the open door along side the push button controls was a transfer that proclaimed Silence Plus. Our soon to be dishwasher was rated at a 44 decibel noise level; light rainfall is about 50 decibel, someone whispering is 30, a dove call 44, and a babbling brook around 40 db. Our Bosch 300 series should sound like doves cooing, sitting in a tree by a babbling brook during a light rain shower; a delightful sound to have in the kitchen.
Omaha’s own furniture, appliance, electronics, flooring and home decor shop prides itself on offering a sale every week; the name of the sale changes but the price of everything remain the same. There is a small flat screen alongside each appliance that displays the just in time sale price of the appliance; area of the shop are wired into the internet and constantly trawl competitors prices and in real time adjust their sale price to match the competition. As the sales associate approached I closed my eyes for couple of seconds. Maybe it was a MATRIX thing; I was going to trawl the net and find the real price of a Bosch 300 series. I was sitting on the floor in an Afghan carpet trader’s shop in Kabul’s Chicken Street. Afghanistan was a welcoming state of chaos and confusion after the omnipresent military of Turkey and Iran. As soon as we crossed the Iranian border in local small bus the Afghan passengers shared their hashish. I spent a lot of time in Chicken Street shops chatting, smoking and drinking tea. I learned to dip sugar cubes into my tea and, at the right soggy time pop them to into my mouth, and then sip my tea. I never did buy anything, but I learned that arriving on a final price was part of the process; haggling was expected, and if you paid the first asking price you were considered a fool. After a few visits the shop owners didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t buy anything; our conversations became long social storytelling journeys; always over shared small short glasses of sugar sweetened tea. I spent more time interacting with the locals instead of being a sightseeing tourists.
When I opened my eyes I knew my destiny; I was going to barter and not pay the real time sale price displayed on the monitor. I turned to the sales associate
Me: What’s your best price on the Bosch 300
I popped the just dissolving sugar cube into my mouth and sipped a little of the warm tea through the cube from the small short glass. The Bosch 300 Series dishwasher was scheduled to be delivered in a couple of weeks.
And so for the next two weeks we washed dishes in the kitchen sink; just as mum washed the dishes in her small kitchen sink after every meal. There was a wall mounted gas water heater to the side of the sink. Mum would put a dish drainer on one side of the sink, and after she gave the dishes a quick rinse in the hot soapy water that she had just washed them in would set them in the drainer to let the soap suds start draining.
Every Sunday night nanna and granddad walked down the street from their place for tea. We always had cold left over roast leg of lamb; and we always had it with a salad. And there was always a selection of mum’s freshly baked cakes on the table for desert. As soon as we finished our cakes and cup of tea, mum would start washing the dishes. Either granddad or nanna would grab the tea towel and start drying the just washed dishes before they had time to collect in the drainer; soon the tea towel, damp with the soap suds from the wet dishes, would have to be replaced with a new dry clean tea towel.
Mum also soaked her vegetables and salad lettuce in the kitchen sink. She would peel the potatoes for Sunday’s roast, and then soak the cut up large bite sized pieces in cold water in the sink. The potatoes were put on a tea towel to dry before she put them in the roasting pan with the leg of lamb; the fat and juices from the lamb, together with mum’s left over lard bubbled in the bottom of the pan to produce perfect roast potatoes.
We only new iceberg lettuce for our salads. Mum would tear the leaves apart and soak them in cold water for a couple of hours before Sunday’s tea. The lettuce leaves were also put on a tea towel to dry; radishes and celery was also soaked in the kitchen sink. Whatever in the kitchen needed washing, or whatever food needed soaking and washing, ended up in the sink. Though I don’t ever remember mum scouring and cleaning the sink. The sink emptied into a gully trap on the other side of the kitchen wall in the fernery.
As a young boy, I only had the wireless to follow the ball to ball action of the Ashes series. Every other year the Australian cricket team would travel to England to play five test matches. June through August was the middle of Melbourne’s dank, chilly, winter. The daytime matches were broadcast live each night to Australia. On those foggy winter nights I cocooned myself in a sea of woollen blankets; the radio was a whisper, and I was lulled to sleep by the erudite details of play by play test cricket. The captain of the fielding team, whenever he used his fast bowlers always set a slip cordon with a gully. I listened as the commentators described the gully trap whenever it was set.
The gully is behind square of the wicket, on the off side at the end of the slips cordon; sometimes it is called fourth slip. It’s a close catching position and the fielder at gully can expect forceful shots from the batsman. In the 74-75 test series the great Australian fast bowlers Lillee and Thomson left the English batsman battered and bruised. Captain Ian Chappell was at first slip, brother Greg at second, Dougie Walter at third, and Terry Jenner in the gully. It was test cricket and the gully trap at its best.
The Bosch 300 is sitting proudly under the counter in the kitchen. I rather liked not being a “stick everything in the dishwasher” type of man the last couple of weeks. It’s hard to go cold turkey not washing dishes; the kettles approaching the boil on the stove so it’s time to chuck the dirty sharp knives into the sink. I’ve moved the Band Aids into the cupboard next to the sink.