You remember this thing, don't you?  :-)

Ralph bequeathed it to me when his heart went ISE-yonder.

I took it in, because it was PRETTY (how many of us have been guilty of that?), and I loved the way the door latched shut with a *click!* even before you nudged the sliding lock lever.

But beneath that shiny exterior lay a lazy-assed thing that wanted to sit on the sofa all day, eat potato chips, order-in from Craigslist, and gripe that I didn't polish the no-wax floors to as high a luster as I used to.

This is the first dishwasher that nearly started fights in the household, mainly because each operator accused the other of not knowing how to properly load the machine for good results.

The trick was on us!  There is no way to get a Thermador to produce clean dishes.

Okay, okay, so that's not entirely fair.  But even with flaming-hot water, good detergent, and good, soft water to boot, this machine was by far the worst performer we've used on a regular basis.

We're talking a worse performer than the D&M top-load, bakelite-impeller Frigidaire.  Worse.

Here's the problem, I think, with the basic Thermador design, performance-wise.

This dishwasher works best as a steam dishwasher.  If you run it on any of the varying flavors of Steam Cycles, from Full to Sani, you got great results.  Baked-on gack was history, and simply slid off the dishes in a fit of acquiescence.

But if you ran it on Regular Wash, what you got was a whole lot of lousy.  Upon comparing notes, Ralph and I suspected that this was due to the peculiarities of this model's timer--if you ran a Regular Wash, the machine paused during increments where, on a steam cycle, it would be doing other, more productive things.  But on Regular Wash, it just sat there, with no water circulating, and with a tub full of water, cooling away.

It wasn't a ridiculous pause, but it was there, and the results it produced were very reminiscent of the complaints of Hobart KitchenAid owners who had fits with their Energy Saver IVs, and their always-always-always noncirculating water-heating delays.

It's not that The Thermador didn't have nice, big wash arms, or a strong pump, or that it didn't change the water greatly, and often.  It just didn't do enough in-between.

Tom, you coined my new favorite phrase, by the way.

The Thermador was a sexy machine.  It looked as good as anyone does at the bar under a smoky atmosphere and low-lighting.  Its stainless-steel interior was proof that anyone looked good in tight Levis.

But beneath the candy outer shell, there was more style than substance.  The "stainless steel" didn't include all components--some was plain steel, plated with nickel.  Moreover, instead of having one continuous tank, the tank consisted of a top seven-eights fitted to a sump in the bottom that was separate, and sealed with silicone between the pieces, with spot welds holding it all together.

The racking on this machine was another challenge, and reminded me distinctly of the KDS-15 we had in Missouri.  

The curlicue tines were supposed to hold plates and saucers steady, and prevent them from bumping into each other while in the midst of the blazing wash-action, and that theory is, at least in my mind, sound.  But said curlicues acted as huge, unbelievable obstacles to getting other objects into the machine--namely pans and bowls.  The divided nature of the bottom rack frequently prevented larger items from going in logical places, and what couldn't wedge into place sometimes just got dumped on top, wherever it would lay.

The divided and relocatable silverware basket clipped onto the rails of the rack--which seemed flexible, but served mostly to cause it to end up in irritating places, where you really wanted to put something else.  Frequently, I'd remove one of the sections and just cram the other, for the sake of additional space.

Cookie sheets and casseroles had to lie face-down in the top rack of you were going to put them anywhere at all; the regimented tining of the bottom rack left no space or flexibility for them, and anything else would either A) hit the very low rails for the top rack, or B) get clipped by the very looooooong and thin upper wash arm.  

The top rack was an admittedly cool design.  This ended up acting as a catch-all bin for things that could not go in the draconian lower-rack area, so bowls, pans, and yes, even cookie sheets, wound up here.  You could move the dividers and bowl/saucer tine inserts around, or remove them entirely, and have one, big, flat bin.

The movable dividers were awesome, and doubled--if flipped--as stemware holders.  Interestingly, stemware faced goblet-to-tank, with the stems facing the middle of the machine.  Well-placed jets at the ends of the top wash arm allowed this to play out with no issue, and to its credit, the top rack wash arm was almost as beefy as the bottom one.

Separate bearings atop the interconnecting tube allowed the top wash arm to rotate in an opposite direction from the bottom wash arm.

It is cool.  Note the low-hanging rails, though.

The steam generator was a heating element with a fitting that added surface area to make steam.  It was beefy--but failed elements brought many Thermadors to an untimely end.  (Probably when owners started having to use the non-supplemented Regular Wash.)

The pump intake was a little better protected than a D&M's wide-open design, but weaknesses in the pump design generally compensated for what broken glass and bones couldn't accomplish on their own.

Compare this with the WCI-Westinghouse dispenser in Machines of Ill Repute Volume II.  I'm guessing Norris was sourcing from WCI?

Here's the rotary-cam, spring-loaded, bimetallic-fired detergent dispenser.

Each firing of the bimetallic advances one notch in the cam, until both cups are opened, and on the third firing, the cam presents a deep notch into which a plunger falls from the rinse-aid dispenser.  

As you can tell, leakage was a bit of an issue, and tough to rectify.  Someone had actually fit a sponge into the door to soak-up the dribble and route it back into the tank.  Very creative!

Here's an "X-ray" view of the rinse dispenser tank by itself.  Very clever, if you want to trigger absolutely everything off one device!  The plunger "nipple" is to the left, which is the part that gets cycled by the cam.

Here's the cam, minus the rinse dispenser, so you can see the detents more clearly.  The deep-V detent allows a small leaf spring, normally hooked to the rinse-aid plunger, to fall into the groove and thus pull or "fire" the plunger.

A subsequent latching of the detergent mechanism forces the spring and plunger back into place, and allows a fresh charge of rinse-aid to flow into the mechanism, ready for release the next time around.

This was a fun machine to play with, and a very satisfying project--I think Ralph and I learned tons about this, and about what we were willing and able to do to bring a machine back to life (I don't think we've ever ordered so much stuff off eBay :-) ).

This machine looked amazing, and felt good, and sounded REALLY nice when it washed.  I truly, deeply wanted it to kick ass and be a fabulous machine to use.  Had we been die-hard steam-cycle aficionados, we probably would have enjoyed both the washing and drying.  But my reluctance to use the mega-element every time at the risk of burning it out probably traded off to a very mediocre dishwashing experience, even with our soft and hot water.

Like hot boyfriends or sports cars, eventually, you have to acknowledge that function has a place along with form.  (Or, you just have your Thermador--and another dishwasher!  After all, every kitchen should have two by default.)

Two sexy guys!  WOOF!!!  Is there a dishwasher in that pic?

Oh you guys.... ;-)

No, there isn't!

Remember those cheap bottom rack glides Nate mentioned in the WCI thread?  I think the Thermador could have benefited from a similar design.  Even when just partially loaded, the bottom rack would almost immediately run off one of the rails and get stuck.  We regularly had to reach across and over to the rear corner and lift the rack back into place.  And those same casters that de-railed also served to wear away the door gasket on both sides, as can be seen in the attached picture.  Once I had conquered the reliably exasperating lower rack with the pictured BobLoad, I was so over that machine.

But it sure was handsome!

Thank you so much, Duane!!

"Is there a dishwasher in that pic?"

You're right, the thing in the middle sort of blurs out if you look at it just right...

...the bottom rack would almost immediately run off one of the rails and get stuck...

OMG, I forgot all about that!   I just asked David if that ever happened to him when he used it, and he shot me a look, so I'll say "yes."

Ralph, that BobLoad is priceless, and is a PERFECT example of the insane perching of items you had to do to conquer that bottom rack.  I agree, your ISE is a world apart in ease of use, ease of loading, performance, and quiet operation!

I see that either you or your friend enjoy a Grain Belt once in awhile as well.  I just wish that Grain Belt Light w/ blue label was available here too.  Oh well, next time I visit relatives southwest of the Cities I'll bootleg some home. lol

P.S. Gotta bootleg some McMaster's Canadian Whiskey also! 

Always fascinated by these machines...

Would love to have one with the "Tower of Shower" just for novelty...

Notice a couple of the models have the single "Fan Jet" spray arm...

Are there pictures of this wash system anywhere?...

George

I remember Bob pointing out the goats-eye configuration and the superior performance it delivered.  They are good jets!

The coppertone beauty Mark posted is a REAL Thermador, not a Waste King-Universal design.  Square-tubular wash arms, micro-filtration, and the whole nine yards.

I love the way his cabinetry kickpanel is seamless underneath the dishwasher.  Too bad they can't make drawer rails so that dishwashers can pull out the way the silverware drawers do!  :-)