Hobart

Note of advice: Buy a Hobart dishwasher with the boat. It’s clean. It’s efficient. It’s fast. The galley is equipped with the finest of such machines. We use it every day. Every hour. I wish every minute. Because it’s so satisfying to hear its roar and know that the dishes are being stripped of foody oils to an inch of their lives. Doing dishes are now fun, imagine that.

“It’s beautifully simple and even more beautiful to watch work. The handle is pulled down and an invisible squall erupts inside the box, sanitizing the dishes. The entire galley is filled by the noise, the scream, not scream . . . ROAR of the Hobart. He shouts his deafening but operatic cry out to us in the galley. In a prolonged moment, the roar subsides. The handle is lifted revealing a sauna, a steaming cemetery of porcelain. Burning hot, boiling hot.”

Notes from my first encounter with the Hobart aboard RCS

HOBART

Fear me!
As I devour your dishes
And spit them back up
In my boiling mucus

Fear me!
As I ingest your trays
And swallow them whole
Release the simmering spray

Praise me!
As I clean on the seas
But before I do
I need the grease cleaned, please

Praise me!
As I embody steel knighthood
Imagine here, where dishes stacked
And young stewards once stood

Believe me, without Hobart, old Hobart
The ship we all love, would soon fall apart.