“It’s about time, don’t you think?” I’d asked The One several months ago. After all, the bottom wall oven has broken down five times and is now as dead as they come. The top oven can’t keep a steady temperature to save its life—or my brioche. The downdraft ventilation system on the stovetop has also keeled over several times and, as such, has been in the upright and locked position for several years because I fear if we lower it, we’ll never see it again. The dishwasher—ah, the dishwasher. It’s cleaned the floor almost as many times as it’s cleaned our dishes, thanks to a capricious leak. Then there’s the fridge, which is one of those confounded side-by-side numbers. As far as I’m concerned, it’s useless; I can’t get a half sheet pan of anything in there, and forget about stashing anything larger than a modest pot roast in the narrow depths of the freezer. To add insult to injury, the former owners decided to abut the monster against a left wall, making it impossible to completely open the freezer door. (WTF were they thinking?!)
Despite my constant rants and complaints, The One wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid. For months and months we’ve been saving to remodel the kitchen in our NYC apartment, a kitchen so small, so pathetic that we stopped city entertaining years ago. We couldn’t bear the embarrassment when people would swing open our Donna Reed-inspired kitchen door, poke their heads in to see where we cook, and then have their faces crumble in disappointment—or pinch in judgment—when they cast their eyes on The Truth.
“What if we shunt the money for the city kitchen to Connecticut and then redo the city next year?” I casually mentioned to The One as I slid a piece of my Hershey’s Chocolate Cake in front of him. Over the years I’ve come to the conclusion that his neurons stop firing and his central nervous system switches over to compliant mode when he’s confronted with chocolate. As he licked the plate (yes, he actually licks the plate when he likes something), he relented—but with the caveat that I pay for the entire renovation. After a second slice, he caved when I showed him the dirt-cheap, butt-ugly stainless-steel sink I said I intended to buy, my fingers crossed behind my back. He immediately, and I must admit, magnanimously, offered to buy a sleek white enamel farmer’s sink. Men. They’re so easily played.
And thus The Great Project began. There was no way in hell I was going to slide my new appliances (generously supplied by KitchenAid*) into painted-over knotty-pine cabinetry that’s more chipped and cracked than a trollop’s cherry red fingernails. So Dan Keys, our contractor (above), came in and asked me to lay out my dream kitchen. Wind me up and let me go. I whizzed around the room, my hands moving faster than Lorin Maazel’s conducting Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, carving out a pantry here and a recessed fridge—one that actually opened—there. I stretched the air to make a larger, more workable island. I pulled out invisible knife drawers and hidden trash bins. I played God, creating light where there was none. When I was done with my dance, I was so exhausted I needed lunch and a nap. Dan needed an aspirin, I think. After that, Larry Komisar and Don Hodkoski of Litchfield Kitchen & Bath stopped by three times with tape measures, cameras, and puzzled looks, and after several weeks the kitchen design went from rough pencil sketches (above) to floor plans to computer-generated elevations.
The last major hurdle? Countertops. Here’s where The One and I parted ways. I wanted a simple cement look (above center, beneath the smaller sample). But The One stood firm, insisting on a slightly mottled counter (above left). “Just in case you stain it while you’re cooking,” he said. What the hell? I figure it’s a small price to pay for a farmer’s sink. (Update: We eventually decided on an almost white counter. We just fell in love—with the same one. What can I say?) We did look at zinc for the wet side of the kitchen, but The One felt it was too much metal. Little does he know that I’m in cahoots with Dan to see if perhaps we can have a section around the sink that’s zinc. It ages so gracefully. Not unlike dear Miss Swanson.
*LC Editor’s Note: “What? Wait? David took free appliances from KitchenAid? Isn’t that, like, unethical or something? Criminal, even?” Well, dear reader, no, it’s not. Federal law simply requires that anything given to a blogger for free must be disclosed to you. Fabulous, inquisitive, witty you. The gifting of these appliances isn’t any different than manufacturers donating appliances to television shows, cooking demo kitchens, stores, etc. And it makes perfect sense considering that David and The One are planning to host their own Google+ Hangout on Air Web series from their brand-spanking-new kitchen. Besides, they’ve bought KitchenAid appliances for their previous homes and have been quite, quite content with their performance. Plus you know David: He’s so darn opinionated, nothing is going to sway his opinion and no one can muzzle him. If he’s not happy or if he doesn’t like something, you’ll know it. That’s his promise to you.
David, there is no little irony in the fact that your marvelous, full-disclosure kitchen reno essay appeared in the same e-letter as the recipe from “Little Paris Kitchen”; is the author crazy or just young and hopeful–or incredibly enterprising? (I lived with one of those miniscule Paris kitchens for six months and even then, in the 1960’s and armed with Elizabeth David , ended up existing on cherries, pate and baquettes).
But on to CT and the reno! No apologies necessary for the Kitchen Aid largesse; a company that has not only stood the test of time, but backs up its appliances. Here is my sad story, perhaps a cautionary tale to those who are now, or will be, shopping for big kitchen ware:
Six years ago my husband and I bought this house in upstate New York. It had been built two years previously and had a very large,–if conventional–knockout kitchen which literally had never been used (the owner was, self-described, “Not a cook”). The Basics: Black grained granite countertops (such a cliche but they have stood up well), custom , sleek maple cabinets (I just replaced the garish hardware) , ridiculously small double sinks (replaced with one large, deep stainless sink and a new, lever faucet) and an island (no island before, got two moveable ones with drawers from Ikea, placed them end to end–longwise– and had a matching black granite top made). All the inherited appliances were “high end” stainless steel ones, as follows:
A GE glass top stove top (no gas up here; it has been not bad, actually)
A Bosch dishwasher. Two years ago, the cheap plastic soap dispenser broke, and the temperature gauge is hopelessly off. Out of warranty, of course and the cost to repair: $500 (I refuse and use as is). Basic flaw: The way too many digital settings are not only overkill, they are counter-intuitive.
Double Bosch ovens. The top one has a convection option. Both take 30 minutes to reach temp, and then don’t hold it. A year ago, the top oven locked permanently. Cost to replace the open/close mechanism: $800. (once again this is a digital appliance). I refuse to pay that and open and close it with a screwdriver blade.
GE double door (freezer on one side, fridge on the other)) stainless steel refrigerator with an ice maker on the door. Of course, we got hooked on the ice maker. Otherwise: worse refrigerator ever. Like yours (maybe yours is a GE), the storage capacity on both sides is ludicrous. Six months ago, it begin a slow death: the temperature on both sides no longer holds (freezer does not freeze at all). Called the appliance people ($125 for service call) who said the motor was shot. Really? In a six year old, $2,500 built-in refrigerator? His explanation: dirt had gotten into the coils on the back, Cautionary tale: apparently–and everyone else in the world already knows this according to service person–refrigerator should be pulled out of its space and coils vacuumed out (preferably by a service person) at least once, preferably twice a year). Am now shopping for new fridge, fridge on top, freezer on bottom (think I’ll have to sacrifice the ice maker)–maybe a Kitchen Aid?
(Speaking of refrigerators) I highly recommend a Haier wine refrigerator. Mine, which is self standing (just plugs in at the back) is about 36″ tall and 18 inches wide, has temp controls for both reds and whites, has a smoked glass door and holds about 40 bottles of wine. Bought it at Lowe’s about 15 years ago for about $200 and it has been in constant operation ever since. Brought it from my previous house where it was enclosed in an open cabinet as it is here–looks built in although of course it is not. Know you are planning to use your old fridge for wine but, besides the correct wine storage temp of the Haier, one can never –in this household at least–have too much wine close at hand.
Don’t get me started on the microwave–also GE. Built in and hard wired, it died a year ago. (I now have my 15 year old free-standing Panasonic on a counter). Re built ins: to replace, the new one must be the exact measurements of the old (so far, no luck in finding a match. )
In 45 years of kitchens and appliances, I have never before had appliances break down. Now, Made in China or just shoddily made? As for the smaller appliances: Five years ago I bought a new large-capacity Cuisinart. (My original, btw, bought in 1970, still works fine–but is quite small). The motor is OK, but I have had to replace the plastic bowl (which mysteriously cracks or the spring gives out) four times now–at $100 a shot. My beloved Kitchen Aid mixer , in continual use for 38 years, finally gave out due I think to being woefully mispacked –jammed sideways into a mover’s box. I bought a new one, a model that accommodates the bowls from my old one and, so far, egg whites are beautifully peaking and batters are seamlessly blending as of old. May all your Kitchen Aids serve you as well! I have no doubt that they will–and look forward to progress reports!
Suzanne, I think in the battle of Kitchen Woes, you are the undisputed queen. I’m so sorry to hear of all your misfortune!!
David, I don’t really think of it as Kitchen Woes–more as a cautionary tale for those who might be shopping for appliances. And vindication for my own preferences–I inherited my kitchen; I never would have bought these over-hyped, shiny, pre-programmed to self-destruct appliances in the first place. I’ll soon be moving into a big, open loft (yes, I am that kind of person) and know exactly what fixtures and appliances I’m going to invest in–and, of course, eavesdropping on your own progress.
Suzanne, well, I hope that all have read your tale and have been warned. Now, let’s see if the Great Connecticut Kitchen Renovation turns into a companion cautionary tale….
Of course it won’t–you’ve got You and The One on your side! Ready, Set..Reno!
Maybe you and your husband should come over when it’s done….
We just did the kitchen. It took us a year to get to a point where we were happy with the design and ready to put out the huge amount if cash it was going to take. We knocked down the first wall in September and were finished all the “big” stuff by… Christmas. Lived in a bomb shelter the whole while. Our contractor arranged it so I had a working kitchen the whole time except for fiv days. The process still damned near killed me. I love the end product though. No. I LURVE it. Totally worth the disruption.
Louise, the after looks great. Clearly, there was a little more to do, but the layout, especially the new island, makes the kitchen so much more user friendly.
I’m glad you have confidence in your architect, now finding a good contractor is the challange. All I can advise (I know..you didn’t ask!) is say NO to any shortcuts. They really don’t know what they are going to be dealing with until they tear down the old kitchen and start the work. Challanges will arise so don’t be surprised..just make’em make it right…the right way…which might be the expensive way or the long way…just don’t allow shortcuts cuz if you think it’s expensive and time consuming now, it’s worse later. That’s all I’m sayin!
I agree with you wholeheartedly, Susan. Our contractor, Dan, is fantastic. I’m the one who keeps asking, “Can’t we pull back a bit?” He’s always telling us that it’s not price but quality that matters. And he has stopped me from making mistakes–spending too much and too little.