A CANUCK IN KANTUCK: Everything is the kitchen sink | Columns

It was about 18 hours without a kitchen sink, before I looked at a fork and wondered if it was too dirty to use again. I mean, I only had a fruit salad with it. Fruit was clean, wasn’t it? Cleaner than soap in some ways?

A few hours later, I was staring at a water glass I had used the day before. Glass of water is pretty germ-free, right? Germ-free enough to last about a week washing a glass of water?

My answer to all of these questions was a convenient yes. So I could get out of washing the dishes.

The loss of our kitchen sink is the result of a kitchen reno we and the rest of America have been going through in the past few months. It was a really wonderful experience, partly because our designer / contractor (from London!)

As she slowly and strategically takes away parts of our kitchen (we lost the dishwasher early because it broke, not because it took it) the experience allowed me to analyze the space in a way that I have never done before had. And I realized that the heart of a modern kitchen is not its fire. Almost all of us have a grill that we can turn to when we really need the heat. Rather, the heart of a kitchen is its water. Without it, everything gets complicated very quickly.

If you doubt me, I challenge you to wash your dishes in your bathtub for a week. While this vessel is often associated with lavender and bubbles when lying down, it is anything but luxurious when standing. I also invite you to wash a pot in the sink. Not ideal.

Our new sink is a huge, white, country-style fireclay sink with an apron front. If none of this means anything to you, you are in good company; it didn’t matter to me either until my husband and I spent a week examining thousands of sinks.

The sink itself is as maintenance-intensive as it gets. It needs grids on the underside to prevent chipping. Even with careful care, it may scratch over time. And it is possible that it will get blotchy.

Our old sink was made of stainless steel. And it was bulletproof.

Still, I’m ridiculously excited about this damn thing. It is now installed and we are waiting for the faucet to be installed. I’m not ashamed to admit how much time I’ve spent staring at it. And, OK, yes, rub a little too.

I’m also not ashamed of how stubborn I have found myself to be about faucets. I’ll tell you one thing, if this spray wand isn’t up to the cold I don’t care how pretty it is or how many times I don’t have to touch it for it to turn on. All that matters is that the wand has to be drawn out of a holster like a Wild West weapon: quickly and smoothly.

When I was a kid, my mother carefully washed and washed her kitchen sink so it was squeaky clean by morning. And what did she use? Palmolive, of course. Because why? Madge, of course.

Oh, that Madge. My God, I have some deeply ingrained memories of your commercials that I’m pretty sure they showed up during every single commercial break during the Days of Our Lives. I remember sitting in a chair at my grandmother’s house (my mom was a soap-free mom) eating a Mirage bar and watching Madge give one of her clients a manicure.

“Oh, Madge, my hands are so cracked,” her client complained. “What should I try?

“Palmolive. It softens your hands while you wash the dishes. You immerse yourself in it. “

“In detergent? Is it mild? “

“More than mild. Makes a lot of foam that lasts. And, no kidding, makes your hands soft when washing up. “

I don’t know if it was Madge’s super-alto voice, her calming mom haircut, or the fact that I really wanted a manicure, but those commercials sold me from age 8.

And to this day, I’m still a Palmolive girl.

This bottle will look great when parked next to our new beauty. And doing the dishes in the kitchen will be the greatest pleasure. But before that happens, I have to have lunch. I wonder which dish I can reuse …

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