Housekeeping Hint: Put that shine back on your flatware!

I hadn't noticed it, which just goes to show that even Atlas occasionally shrugs, but our flatware was getting dull (The stainless, that is, not the sterling. Sterling is a different matter entirely, and I'll tackle that some other time, because Sterling is not a Summertime Thing). Some pieces even had some sort of rusty spots on them!

I blame this entirely on certain individuals within Chez Vel-DuRay, who shall remain nameless, that have an aversion to the dishwasher. They wash everything by hand, and then leave it to dry in the dishrack which, in my book, is about as dreary as you can get, but let's not go there.

So it was obviously time for a flatware pick-me-up: A ritual that sounds much more fun than it is (not that it sounds that fun to begin with) but is necessary if one is to hold one's head up in the world of domestic arts.

Start with a nice thick apron, a good attitude, and a can of "Barkeep's Friend", which is sort of a mellow version of Comet (i.e. you can probably mix it with bleach without a toxic gas cloud forming, but don't try it) and lots of what we used to call "elbow grease". (I know that some of you more base-minded people are snickering at that last bit. Stop it. I'm trying to teach here)

Stand at the sink, rub everything down with a wet sponge sprinkled liberally with some Barkeep's Friend, and then rinse in plenty of cool water. It sounds easy, and it is, but it's boring as hell. To break up the monotony you can, and should, dry each piece immediately with a clean tea towel*, but that really doesn't make it any less monotonous. (I was just trying to put a nice spin on it to cheer you up).

There are those who suggest that at this point you should apply a fine coat of olive oil to your flatware, and buff it out, but I always have a sneaking suspicion that people who suggest things like that either have too much time on their hands, or are secretly on the payroll of the National Olive Oil Council, so I'd take that with a grain of salt. But if you do, use a FRESH tea towel*.

If you embrace modern technology, and don't live as a Luddite, this should keep your flatware nice and shiny all year long. (Actually, I take that back: If you are an anal-rententive Luddite, and use a fresh tea towel* to dry your silverware as soon as you wash it, it will stay much shinier than if you throw it in the dishwasher at the drop of a hat. But who wants to be an anal-retentive Luddite? A nice compromise might be to take your silverware out of the dishwasher and hand dry it (using a fresh tea towel*) as soon as the machine is done, but, like celibacy, that works much better in theory than in real life.)

So there you have it: Once again, I have given you a clear choice between a clean, modern life, full of shiny flatware, or the dull obscurity of the cloudy flatware set. I report, you decide.


* A tea towel, by the way, is a thin white cotton or linen cloth that is intended for drying dishes and cutlery. It should not be confused with kitchen towels, which are stouter, and meant for drying hands or sopping up spills. Tea towels are cheap and cheerful, as long as you aren't wandering around in someplace like Williams-Sonoma, and can take all sorts of punishment. Buy about twenty of each, and you'll cut down drastically on your paper towel budget.

And don't you dare use fabric softener on them, or I'll be coming to your house with the Craftsman yard stick to open up a can of whup-ass on you.