In our apartment, we have a meal schedule going in which each of us ends up cooking for the other five once every other week.
And we only have one established rule with the cooking schedule: He who cooks must not clean.
So we always end up playing this game:
"What are you doing? Stop cleaning!"
"What? No, I'm not cleaning this dish! I'm just, um...transferring it from the table to the counter/putting the food in tupperware/enjoying apartment bonding time."
"Nope. This is a private cleaning party. Out of the kitchen. Out!"
We have our rituals.
Note that we generally have so many baked goods that we have to beg people to eat them.