We bought this 1930’s fixer upper five years ago next month and have been renovating it ever since. The kitchen is the last major room to get hit; it’s a bit rough. Cupboards are gone, drawers are broken and missing, the oven fan has never worked, the counter top is chipped, slashed and burned. I love it.
From the mudroom where the fridge is. The only thing I’ve done with the kitchen -other than buy a new stove and fridge when the ones that came with the house died, oh and paint over the original horrifying dark blue and bright yellow with cheap mis-tint grey- was tear up the five layers of lino flooring with a sheet of 3/8ths plywood sandwiched between. Irene was over when we first got the house and accurately described the top layer of linoleum floor as looking like someone had peed all over it. I tried to pry it all up in sections with a big crow bar -the ‘Party Bar’ as we like to describe it- but after a few hours of getting nowhere I swapped out the blade in my skill saw for a crusty one, set it to depth and ripped a two foot grid through the kitchen and side room. I do not recommend any one do this but it worked. Darby sanded the upstairs and downstairs with a rented drum sander and, wearing my respirator for nearly a week, I sealed the floor with the last available oil urethane before the government banned it from store shelves. This, plus a gut and reno of one of the upstairs bedrooms, was all in the month before we moved in.
Most of the counter space is taken up by coffee paraphernalia. It has grown since Jesse has been living with us. The electric goose neck kettle, the burr grinder and one of the Aeropress’ will go with him at the end of the month but the rest is Darby and I and it is kind of gross in a totally necessary kind of way. This mess is usually strewn about the kitchen I just consolidated it to wonder how we ended up with three stove tops and three hand cranked grinders. The next step is getting our own roaster like Kim and Lisa.
This tea spoon rest was a gift from Marina. It’s my favorite piece in the kitchen usually sitting on the window sill. For some reason I always think it’s Japanese then flip it over and remember it’s from Ireland.
From the room where I drink lots of coffee and tap at my tiny, slow lap top. Cookbooks are shelved to the right. I plan to eventually tear out the cupboards on the far left and put the fridge there. Swap the counter top for butcher block, maybe do open shelves and a deeper sink. One day. I’m pretty weary of renovating. When my day job was working as a carpenter it was easier to come home in my filthy work clothes and keep working. Now that I’m back working at the family book shop the process of changing into work clothes gets overruled by an evening walk with Luka. Better for the soul but not for progress on this home. There’s a joke that you can always tell a carpenters house based on the half finished projects. The kitchen functions and for now that’s all that really matters.