Tossing a Rattle Into the Renovation By MELISSA CLARK

December 18, 2008
Design Notebook
Tossing a Rattle Into the Renovation By MELISSA CLARK

WHEN I went into labor this fall, my daughter was three weeks early. But my kitchen renovation was running five weeks late. I had carefully planned that the two events would not overlap, but there I was listening to the screech of the drill in between contractions while my husband, Daniel, dashed around the bedroom packing the hospital bag.

I moved into my century-old town house in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn, 11 years ago with every intention of renovating the bare-bones kitchen with its scanty knotted-pine cabinets and 1980s Magic Chef stove. But in the meantime, I unpacked the 30 or so boxes of cooking equipment essential to my career as a food writer, and made do.

In the ensuing years, I hammered nails into the walls willy-nilly to hang newly acquired pans, and screwed in shelves to house my collection of mortars and pestles and the ever growing batterie de cuisine. The kitchen took shape haphazardly, and while I appreciated its cluttered beauty, it wasn't an easy place to cook.

I probably would have put off renovating indefinitely, except I married and became pregnant. Suddenly, the sharp-edged mini tart pans stacked on open shelves and the tacks sticking up from the worn parquet floors seemed menacing instead of charming. Daniel had been advocating for a sleeker, more updated look since he moved in. "Think of how satisfying it will be to find the sesame oil in the pantry instead of buying a new one every time you want to cook with it," he teased.

We scraped together $25,000 and called Alexis Kraft, an architect who had designed our friends' ultramodern kitchen last year. He was gracious enough not to laugh when I mentioned the budget. "I think that rules out custom cabinets," he said, sending us to Ikea.

But the unsealed Carrara marble countertops so perfect for rolling out pie crusts were still in the running. (I know marble becomes stained, but blemishes add texture and flaunt the history of many happy meals.)

Daniel's priorities were less visual clutter (clearing the counters), brighter and more-focused lighting, more open space around the island, and the use of environmentally friendly materials.

I wanted a stove with more B.T.U.'s, a new fridge, built-in bookcases, those pull-out pantry shelves, and much, much more storage. I also wanted a more organized working environment. It is one thing to have a kitchen that looks pretty. But as a professional who cooks thousands of recipes every year, I needed better flow.

Alexis's design kept the bones of the 1893 parlor room intact, leaving the ornate woodwork around the windows and pocket doors. Then he modernized the core, making sure the ash finish of the new Ikea cabinets, and the bittersweet-chocolate shade of the eco-friendly coconut-palm flooring, harmonized with the original oak.

As with my old kitchen, the cabinets and counters ran along the walls with an island in the center. But instead of the single row of cabinets, Alexis planned double rows on both sides. He also fitted the island with bookshelves, and drawers to absorb the multitude of small tools.

True, I would need a stepladder to reach the cabinets' upper shelves, but I would reserve them for the various items I used once a year (the Seder plate, electric juicer, spaetzle maker).

Perhaps most important, Alexis organized the space by moving the refrigerator to the same wall as the pantry, giving us more counter space on the sink-and-stove side, where it would be useful for prepping ingredients. And I would be able to unload my groceries by standing in one place.

With the design in hand, we hired a contractor, who, eyeing my bump, promised a new kitchen by early September. The baby was due in late October. "It's an easy job," he said with a confident air. "We'll finish in four or five weeks."

The work progressed apace, starting with the demolition. Then, the new light fixtures were installed. Alexis complemented the light over our island — an early 20th-century pressed-glass factory shade — with recessed ceiling lights to brighten the room, and halogen puck lights under the cabinets to illuminate the counters. We also installed dimmers for a more flattering glow during parties.

Daniel wanted the island made smaller to create an easier flow of humans, and we also altered its look. The original plan called for a marble countertop with right angles. Daniel wanted a softer appearance, and asked for something rounded, perhaps with a gentle curve. Alexis ran with the idea, creating an arc worthy of Ellsworth Kelly, echoing it in the bluestone step leading to the deck, and in an ellipse-shaped cafe table top that we had cut out of the same hunk of Carrara marble.

Other than the marble and bluestone, our kitchen splurges included a fancy new Wolf stove hood strong enough to suck out the stink of even schmaltz-fried latkes, a deep farmhouse sink and a tall swan-neck Grohe faucet that gave me enough room to clean my biggest stockpot.

We economized with the fridge, a discounted floor-model Sub-Zero, the Ikea cabinets with their Home Depot pulls, and a GE Cafe series stove — an improvement on the Magic Chef but not the Aga range of my dreams.

We still came out $15,000 over budget. And several weeks late.

By that time, about eight weeks into the renovation, we were desperate to be rid of the dust and chaos. Leaving the house in the throes of labor with Daniel holding one arm and our doula holding the other, we ran into the contractor. He did a double take, and a look of shock spread across his face. "I promise we'll be finished tomorrow," he said.

It took another week, but if that is what it takes to get a renovation finished, so be it.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/18/garden/18kitchen.html?sq=Melissa%20Clark&st=cse&scp=3&pagewanted=print

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