My dishwasher is broken. And I have no idea when it will be fixed.
It had not been cleaning very well for the past few weeks and I have had to half fill a newly emptied washer with recently “cleaned” dishes too many times after a thorough hand-rinsing of caked-on grit. And every time I would roll out the bottom rack, the spinning propeller that spits out water (does it have a real name?) would pop out. Is this supposed to happen? Not sure, but I have been diligently re-snapping that spinner back in every load and trying to rinse off the little screen thing when I can see gunk in it. Fed up this morning, I decided to run the “sanitizer” cycle with the dishwasher empty hoping that any little lurking buggers would be whisked away. I had sanitized in the past with great success.
So sanitize I did.
Steam poured forth from the vents at the top of the appliance. Yeah, I remember that happening in the past – the sanitizer cycle is quite hot.
And then, the smell. It didn’t remember that.
Burning plastic. At first, I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. By the time I got to my dishwasher, it was too late. The bottom spinning piece had popped out and melted on the heating element. Yes, melted. Through and through. One of the propeller arms without a hand. A white powder sloughing off on my fingers as I removed the cooling plastic.
In the grand scheme of things, not a tragedy. But given the photo hanging above my sink that largely epitomizes my philosophy on dish washing (and taking out trash), this could be a major stall in food exploration.
That being said, I did manage to make an almond-macadamia cremolata inspired by Ana Sortun’s veggie friendly restaurant Oleana and sesame noodles this evening. But my sink is mighty full and begging for a bit of attention.
My super is supposed to be here first thing tomorrow and a repair man will hopefully soon follow.
Wish me luck – I need it.