I hate washing dishes. It’s the worst. When I was a teenager, the first real job I had was washing dishes at a now defunct chain restaurant that will go unnamed. It was wet, smelly, the hours sucked, the pay was terrible, and only one speaker on the CD player worked. I’m sure there are a bunch of people reading this right now who are saying “Hey! Me too! I was a dishwasher when I was a teenager at a now defunct chain restaurant that will go unnamed and it was wet, smelly, the hours sucked, the pay was terrible, and only one speaker on the CD player worked!”
Well, this one’s for you, fellow dish-pigs.
The Tawashi brush is the bane of gunk’s existence. Rather than the foul plastics that are filling our landfills, and polluting our oceans, they’re made out of angry little coconut palm fibers which blast through caked-on everything like it was nothing. They’re ideal for washing cast iron, dishes, forks with rice stuck between the tines, cutting boards, steel pots and pans, countertops, stovetops, the inside of the oven, and countless other areas where grime reigns supreme. They’re also super effective when it comes to food prep - got some especially filthy celery? Don’t feel like peeling those baby carrots you got at the Farmer’s Market? Yes, the mighty Tawash scrubby has got your back there, too.
They also last asuspiciously long timefor an item made out of natural, compostable fibers. After a couple sink-loads of dishes, I like to let my Tawashi sit in a bath of diluted vinegar for a couple hours to sanitize it. I then give it a good rinse before putting it away. It even has a little wire hook attached to it so you can hang it up to dry. I’ve been using the same one for about a month. Holy cow!
I still hate washing dishes. It’s still the worst. But since I fell in love with my little Tawashi, I’ve noticed that I spend way less time scrubbing in futilely like a total chump. That means I get to spend more time doing literally anything other than washing dishes. I sometimes think back to all the hours I wasted in front of that big ol’ sink at that big ol’ unnamable chain restaurant and wonder “What could have been? What could I have accomplished? All these moments will be lost in time… like tears in dishwater.”