In a Atlantic Test, Ellen Cushing writes on the fracture of American households on the dishwasher. She notes a well-circulated line on the subject that sums up things: “In each relationship, there is a person who loads the dishwasher as a Scandinavian architect, and the one who loads him as a raccoon on methamphetamine.” Cushing has long been in the connecting camp, and the test recounts his quest to rectify this. Spoiler alert: In the end, it refers to the dishwasher as a “miracle” after learning how the machine – and its detergent – actually work, as well as some bases on loading properly. It is essential, for example, to know where the water jets are in your particular model, which, yes, requires reading and listening to the real manual.
A big problem is that “everyone thinks that the way he grew up in charge of the dishwasher is correct,” she wrote, but things have changed. In the 2000s, for example, “we went from phosphate detergent to enzymatic detergent, which works like a small PAC-Man, eating dirt and making room for soap to do its job.” Meaning: “Rinse is not necessary”, except for stubborn fatty proteins such as peanut butter or eggs. Generally, simply scratch the leftover food in the trash and skip the tap. In fact, a publisher at Best houses and gardens tells him that “if you don’t leave a little food for these enzymes, you run the risk of starting to break down other materials” – like your dishes. (Read the full test, which plunges into more important ideas on the role of the device in our lives.)
