Reunited (and it feels so good)!

There are numerous good reasons to enjoy vintage kitchenware.  There's the knowledge that you're re-purposing and recycling items discarded before their useful lifetime and the understanding that your money is filtering through the economy on a different, sometimes even charitable, level.  There's the daydreams you can easily get whisked off to thinking of the former meals your skillet has cooked or dish has prepared.  And the thrill of the hunt, for sure.  But I get the most extreme pleasure when I piece back together a long torn apart set.

Sometimes while anthropomorphizing my dishes, I think about how lonely a misplaced bowl is separated from its manufactured brethren.  I just want to swoop in and say, "Ah ha!  I have found you!  Let me return you to your kinfolk."  And sometimes I get to.

When it comes to glassware, sets of three are always hard to think about.  I can't help but wonder what awful fate the fourth succumbed to.  Did it break?  Maybe it was lost in a move?  A while back I'd found three colorful automobile glasses: red, turquoise and yellow.  They were bright and cheerful, and scattered throughout an unmanned flea market booth about to close.  Lo and behold if I didn't spot the green one months later and miles away.

Big news too that I also finally completed my set of 1940s Pyrex Primary Bowls with the old elevated foot.  I suppose the italicization goes a bit far - I mean I haven't been looking that long.  But anyhow, my very first set back together at last:

 

When it comes to reuniting sets, I think it is part luck and part patience (and honestly, I think more of the latter).  I'd known of a yellow #404 for a while, but wasn't entirely pleased with either the condition or the price.  I'd walk by it thinking, "There you are, the last piece needed to complete this set" but had managed, for weeks, to pass it by.  Finally I gave in to temptation and splurged on the bowl, reckoning it's a decently elusive find what with the limited production and age and who only knew when I'd see another one.  So I bought it.  And my jubilation and rationalization lasted all of something like three hours until at the next place we stopped, I found another one - reasonably priced, and in better shape (so yes, I rescued that one too.  I know, I can't help myself - luckily that first one has already been re-homed to Japan so I can mark a tally in the win column for spreading the Pyrex wealth).

Just goes to show - patience always wins out.

Then you have lids.  Oh lids - you bane of my existence.  They say there is a lid for every pot but they don't tell you where this lid happens to be.  I broke my rule and purchased this Zodiac lid online, but seeing how happy he is (I think this casserole is a male, no?) back with his proper hat, I understand why rules are meant to be broken sometimes.

 

This little casserole didn't lose it's lid, but the one it had was all chipped and damaged.  Fortunately, not one but two lone lids were discovered a few days ago for a steal.  It's just one big family reunion going on over here!

So tell me, what's your happiest reunion tale? 

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The Man(Power) Behind the Curtain: Or, How to Clean Your Vintage Dishes

I have determined that, as much I dislike them in theory, I am the type of person who needs deadlines. Erm, maybe "deadline" is too strong a word. But I need goals. Benchmarks. I need some form of structured accountability because this, "What I prioritize will get done first" mentality is simply not true. I blame it on the fact that I simply too good at rationalizing things. It is a trait of all productive procrastinators I truly believe.

I started this blog entry back in February.  I don't mean middle-to-late-oh-it's-almost-March February, I mean, "Oh gee it's no longer January" February.  But (and this where there the adept rationalizing begins) the timing now seems appropriately apt.  That's right.  It's time for Spring Cleaning!  Or at least, time for me to write about it. 

See I do a lot (constant, endless amounts) of dish-washing. When I was a child I used to think doing the dishes was such drudgery. I mean you had bend down to put them into the dishwasher, and then bend down again to take them out! Heaven forbid they don't come clean because then you'd get interrogated about whether or not you rinsed the darn things ahead of time. Goodness gracious! Life was so unfair.

Then I grew up and out onto my own. Turns out affordable apartments in major urban centers like Seattle and New York don't even have dishwashers. Oh wait, yes they did. Me. Even when I've lucked out to live in a place that has an automatic dish-washing appliance, it breaks. Like right now. A perfectly good dishwasher downstairs, but the sink is all sudsy soapy and the dish-rack is full to the brim.

Why? Because I am meant to wash dishes. Also because of issues with the landlord/appliance repair people but lets not go down that road. Point being, you can trust me folks. Lest my impressive experience above wasn't enough to convince you, let me remind you I've been a professional. I know what I'm doing.

This is all only partially in jest, for as simple a concept as washing the dishes is, washing vintage dishes becomes a trickier matter. Case in point: that automatic dishwasher sitting empty downstairs? A death trap for retaining the value (aesthetic and otherwise) of your Pyrex pretties and other cook and bakeware. Decals, enamel, colorful glazes - these are not and have not always been dishwasher safe. Such rampant abuse has even led to the term - and subsequent acronym - DWD: DishWasher Damaged.

I can understand the temptation to give the dishwasher a go when a bothersome stain or burnt-out something or other just won't come off despite your best efforts, but please do refrain. And by all means, I find nothing more sad than letting lovely bakeware sit there unused and unloved out of fear that if it is used, it will never get clean again. That defeats the point of kitchenware altogether.

Now... this is the part where I'd whip out some stunning before & afters, and share the secret of how I did it. That was the plan. Of course I forgot that the key to successfully execution of said plan required pictures taken before I clean everything. Oops. But I told myself I would do this today. Not tomorrow. Certainly not next Thursday (see how easily I could justify putting this off?).  So those will have to wait.  We're moving.  I hope you don't have to wait too long.  But without further adieu, here are my kitchen cleansing secrets. 

To start, my most invaluable man behind the curtain is:

An actual man, whose elbow grease and attention to detail in matters of dishware is something all woman everywhere should be jealous of. Unfortunately (well, fortunately for me), he's mine and I don't foresee the idea of renting him out to scrub your pots and pans getting very far off the ground. I know, I know. This is unhelpful, but I did have to give him his due acknowledgment for being particularly proactive in the dish washing department.  Moving on.

I'd like to introduce the supporting cast of characters that make this blog possible. Always lingering backstage, the spotlight seldom shines on these stagehands but that does not make their contributions any less important. 

The key to cleaning vintage dishes is knowing which product to use when, and how.

Step 1:  Clean in warm, soapy water
I always start with a good warm-water sudsy bath.  This gets rid of all the physical dirt, dust and residue.  There is no use wasting a fancy product (or money spent on such fancy product) on a task easily performed by soap and water.  I prefer to use scrub sponges, but a dishrag would also work just fine (although you might have to work a little harder). 

Step 2:  Remove Grease and Built-Up Grime

This is where Dawn Power Dissolver comes in handy and it works like a food-safe oven cleaner.  Let your dishes dry, then target any areas of grease and baked-on who-knows-what.  Now walk away.  Read a book.  Drink some tea.  How long is too long?  Usually 5-10 minutes will do the trick, but I've allowed the stuff to work its magic for at least a half an hour or more (okay, so I forgot about it).  Then watch as the residue of all that former meals magically wipes away.  In cracks and crevices (particularly along the rims of certain casseroles) I find that an electric toothbrush or toothpick is extra helpful at nudging the grime away.  Occasionally, like when there are layers upon layers of blackened gunk, several applications may be necessary.

Step 3:  Scrub Away Stains and Markings
With all the dirt and grease removed, it's time to tackle the overall exterior with the Magic Eraser.  Be forewarned - even though this appears like a soft sponge it really is an abrasive cleanser, so just be aware.  For most pieces covered with a generalized dingy markings, a good once-over with Magic Eraser will erase them right away.  In some ways, I think of this as "polishing."

Step 4:  Metal Marks
By now, your dishes should be well on their way to looking like new, but if they were heavily used (or stored next to something metallic) you might still be looking at metal marks.  This requires pulling out the big guns - Bar Keepers Friend.  BKF is an abrasive cleanser, so while it works marvelously on ceramic plates, milk glass and the inside of Pyrex, use extreme caution when using this on patterned areas and generally avoid it entirely on cast-iron enamelware.  That said, sometimes metal marks can be so ugly or distracting,  minor wear cause by BKF  might be a worthy trade-off - that's for you to decide.  Sprinkle a little BKF on the affected area and dampen, forming a paste.  Let it sit for a few minutes and then gently scrub away.  I use the soft-side of a scrubby sponge. 

And voila!  Like new vintage dishes  I'll try to get some before and afters up shortly.  In the meanwhile, happy spring cleaning!

*Disclaimer, disclaimer!  I've used these products and techniques on any number of colored Pyrex dishes and a variety of other decorated glassware and never had any issue with patterns being damaged.  That said, I'm not liable for your pieces if something goes amiss. I hope it doesn't - and it probably won't - I'm just saying.

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