I wish I'd thought to take pictures
Jun. 17th, 2016 12:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fufarawof the kitchen in one of our early apartments. Ramble inspired by this photo discovered on Tumblr, attributed to the black elk, here, http://theblackelk.tumblr.com/post/34080767332 .
It was in an older house, and had been an under-the-roof-slope attic-type closet. The homeowner had "raised the roof" with a shed dormer that ran the width of the house, creating a small bedroom and a kitchen space. Both rooms were paneled in 1950s knotty pine tongue and groove--3/4 inch thick solid wood, which was great for hanging pictures, or utensil racks, or hanging shelves. The fridge tucked into the slanted alcove that was left on the end of the house of the original roof slope, with a single low cupboard for storage and a spot free for a microwave. The fridge was an ancient round-top Philco I learned to defrost, and the apartment-sized stove was a Hot Point with four burners and a narrow oven. OH replaced the oven element and a couple of burners over the twenty years we lived there, but that little stove turned out a lot of meals, fairly reliably.
There was a single overhead light fixture, and no matter where you worked you were in your own light so what you were doing was shadowed. The oven never had a light, and we bought a thermometer to keep check on the baking temps. The wide, deep porcelain sink was in its own cabinet, built of plywood, with two doors for access to the pipes and some storage underneath. Attached to the right of the sink was a dropleaf shelf on a very strong spring to be raised to hold a dish drainer. We found a wheeled cart that would fit under the raised dropleaf, with shelves to hold boxed and bagged staples, transferred to glass jars. To the left of the sink was a Hoosier style cabinet where we kept everyday dishes in the top shelves, and baking pans and casseroles in the bottom shelves. The cabinet stood on legs, and there was room to scoot three plastic dishpans side by side underneath, to hold onions and potatoes. There was a drawer for silverware, and one where rolls of foil, plastic wrap, and plastic bags fit. There was even a metal-lined drawer designed as a breadbox. The warming shelf (we removed the fixture that held a low-wattage bulb) behind the rolltop was where I stashed the cookbooks.
Above the Hoosier and across the sink, the width of the room, ran cabinets hand-built of 3/4" plywood, to hold glasses, and more dishes. OH mounted quarter-round cleats on the side of the Hoosier and the plywood cabinet over the draining rack, and slid in a 3/4" board cut to length for a shelf above the sink. Below that was a chunk of pegboard cut to fit the side of the Hoosier exactly, where hung a tea strainer, a pasta and produce drainer, and an array of brushes I've not been able to replicate since, for cleaning pots and pans, glasses, the glass milk bottles I used for reconstituted powder milk when times were lean. Every size and tailored shape of brush, right there at hand. The vegetable peeler, bottle opener, and church key hung there, too. And below the shelf was a length of hardwood 1"x2", which I wiped down with mineral oil before attaching it to the wall with screws, leaving a space behind it, deeper at one end. Along its width, I slipped the blades of my knives between it and the wall, smallest to largest. They needed oiling and wiping down periodically to remove waterdrop spatter from the sink, but they were handy, and I liked the look of them displayed that way.
The owner had ripped out a penninsula from some kitchen, somewhere, and he installed it lined up beneath the windows perpendicular to the Hoosier. It provided counter space next to the stove, and stored more oversized pots, pot lids, and staple foods in jars. On the same end wall where the fridge was recessed, OH mounted a 4-foot by 3-foot sheet of pegboard, spray painted bright orange. On the pegboard went every pot and pan with a handle that would hang on a hook, every meat fork, pair of tongs, slotted spoon, and spatula we owned. As there was no task lighting, we used the C-clamp shelf mount for a bright blue jointed architect's lamp and fastened it to the end of the windowsill over the counter. It could be pulled and positioned to shed light on the counter workspace, the stovetop, or pulled down to light the oven interior, or the recesses of the cabinet. I miss how useful and versatile that lamp was. I set a small desk lamp on the shelf over the sink, which worked well to light the sink and the counter to either side. We bought another, somewhat larger three-shelf wheeled cart and centered it as a work island, and also counter space for loading and unloading the fridge. The shelves held the stand mixer, mixing bowls, and plastic cereal bowls and tumblers for the kids to reach. We covered the shelves in orange-yellow-white graphic contact paper, and the sink-side pegboard to match. We found a ceiling light fixture with the same colors, and on the wall hung an orange towel calendar printed in red, yellow, and blue letters in German I'd brought home from OH's tour there. A couple of blue enameled baking pans--a kugelhopf mold and a paella-style pan--hung on the walls, as well as a blue and white porcelain pudding mold, and the square porcelain wind-up clock ["TICK...TOCK...I said, TICK...TOCK..."] with the blue checkerboard edging OH had found on the curb on trash day.
We put a stack of red, yellow and blue open-front plastic bins against the wall for canned goods and topped it with a small slab of butcher block, and on the wall above it hung an old wooden Pepsi crate full of small, useful things--egg cups, tins of tea, a Snoopy Matchbox car, an orange flower-shaped kitchen timer. Another slab of hard rock maple went on top of the rolling cart to use as a cutting board, or flipped over to knead or roll out dough for baking.
It wasn't the slick and gleaming kitchen visible in magazines, all modern cabinets and stainless appliances. But it was colorful, and efficient, if makeshift, and fun. I have a planned kitchen now--not planned by me, as there are changes I would, and may, make. But it's not nearly so much fun.
It was in an older house, and had been an under-the-roof-slope attic-type closet. The homeowner had "raised the roof" with a shed dormer that ran the width of the house, creating a small bedroom and a kitchen space. Both rooms were paneled in 1950s knotty pine tongue and groove--3/4 inch thick solid wood, which was great for hanging pictures, or utensil racks, or hanging shelves. The fridge tucked into the slanted alcove that was left on the end of the house of the original roof slope, with a single low cupboard for storage and a spot free for a microwave. The fridge was an ancient round-top Philco I learned to defrost, and the apartment-sized stove was a Hot Point with four burners and a narrow oven. OH replaced the oven element and a couple of burners over the twenty years we lived there, but that little stove turned out a lot of meals, fairly reliably.
There was a single overhead light fixture, and no matter where you worked you were in your own light so what you were doing was shadowed. The oven never had a light, and we bought a thermometer to keep check on the baking temps. The wide, deep porcelain sink was in its own cabinet, built of plywood, with two doors for access to the pipes and some storage underneath. Attached to the right of the sink was a dropleaf shelf on a very strong spring to be raised to hold a dish drainer. We found a wheeled cart that would fit under the raised dropleaf, with shelves to hold boxed and bagged staples, transferred to glass jars. To the left of the sink was a Hoosier style cabinet where we kept everyday dishes in the top shelves, and baking pans and casseroles in the bottom shelves. The cabinet stood on legs, and there was room to scoot three plastic dishpans side by side underneath, to hold onions and potatoes. There was a drawer for silverware, and one where rolls of foil, plastic wrap, and plastic bags fit. There was even a metal-lined drawer designed as a breadbox. The warming shelf (we removed the fixture that held a low-wattage bulb) behind the rolltop was where I stashed the cookbooks.
Above the Hoosier and across the sink, the width of the room, ran cabinets hand-built of 3/4" plywood, to hold glasses, and more dishes. OH mounted quarter-round cleats on the side of the Hoosier and the plywood cabinet over the draining rack, and slid in a 3/4" board cut to length for a shelf above the sink. Below that was a chunk of pegboard cut to fit the side of the Hoosier exactly, where hung a tea strainer, a pasta and produce drainer, and an array of brushes I've not been able to replicate since, for cleaning pots and pans, glasses, the glass milk bottles I used for reconstituted powder milk when times were lean. Every size and tailored shape of brush, right there at hand. The vegetable peeler, bottle opener, and church key hung there, too. And below the shelf was a length of hardwood 1"x2", which I wiped down with mineral oil before attaching it to the wall with screws, leaving a space behind it, deeper at one end. Along its width, I slipped the blades of my knives between it and the wall, smallest to largest. They needed oiling and wiping down periodically to remove waterdrop spatter from the sink, but they were handy, and I liked the look of them displayed that way.
The owner had ripped out a penninsula from some kitchen, somewhere, and he installed it lined up beneath the windows perpendicular to the Hoosier. It provided counter space next to the stove, and stored more oversized pots, pot lids, and staple foods in jars. On the same end wall where the fridge was recessed, OH mounted a 4-foot by 3-foot sheet of pegboard, spray painted bright orange. On the pegboard went every pot and pan with a handle that would hang on a hook, every meat fork, pair of tongs, slotted spoon, and spatula we owned. As there was no task lighting, we used the C-clamp shelf mount for a bright blue jointed architect's lamp and fastened it to the end of the windowsill over the counter. It could be pulled and positioned to shed light on the counter workspace, the stovetop, or pulled down to light the oven interior, or the recesses of the cabinet. I miss how useful and versatile that lamp was. I set a small desk lamp on the shelf over the sink, which worked well to light the sink and the counter to either side. We bought another, somewhat larger three-shelf wheeled cart and centered it as a work island, and also counter space for loading and unloading the fridge. The shelves held the stand mixer, mixing bowls, and plastic cereal bowls and tumblers for the kids to reach. We covered the shelves in orange-yellow-white graphic contact paper, and the sink-side pegboard to match. We found a ceiling light fixture with the same colors, and on the wall hung an orange towel calendar printed in red, yellow, and blue letters in German I'd brought home from OH's tour there. A couple of blue enameled baking pans--a kugelhopf mold and a paella-style pan--hung on the walls, as well as a blue and white porcelain pudding mold, and the square porcelain wind-up clock ["TICK...TOCK...I said, TICK...TOCK..."] with the blue checkerboard edging OH had found on the curb on trash day.
We put a stack of red, yellow and blue open-front plastic bins against the wall for canned goods and topped it with a small slab of butcher block, and on the wall above it hung an old wooden Pepsi crate full of small, useful things--egg cups, tins of tea, a Snoopy Matchbox car, an orange flower-shaped kitchen timer. Another slab of hard rock maple went on top of the rolling cart to use as a cutting board, or flipped over to knead or roll out dough for baking.
It wasn't the slick and gleaming kitchen visible in magazines, all modern cabinets and stainless appliances. But it was colorful, and efficient, if makeshift, and fun. I have a planned kitchen now--not planned by me, as there are changes I would, and may, make. But it's not nearly so much fun.
no subject
Date: 2016-06-18 03:55 am (UTC)When Cat and I moved to Kansas (Olathe, to be exact; little town near Kansas City), we lived in the top floor of a Victorian house that had been built in 1900. It was not well taken care of, the wiring wasn't up to code, the floors creaked and windows had no screens.
But the bathroom had a claw-foot tub (sitting on rotten floorboards) and you'd bonk your knees on it sitting on the loo. There was a window right there, and a shelf that ran around the tub for sundries. No shower - we took baths only for five years.
The kitchen was tiny, with a huge, deep, porcelain sink that stretched on one side to a drainboard (all of a piece), with a gas stove and random 'fridge. Open the 'fridge door, and you'd about knock it into the sink on the other side. Both kitchen windows went down nearly to the floor, and there were two cabinets over the sink for everything.
Wood floors, huge, sash windows with old, warped glass, push-button 'on' 'off' switches for lights, and fancy, metal doorknobs and plates on every door. I loved it so very much.
no subject
Date: 2016-06-18 04:05 am (UTC)And oh, the wiring! We couldn't make coffee and toast at the same time without tripping a circuit breaker, let alone run the tv and the air conditioner at the same time. OH quickly remedied the wiring situation, thank goodness, and did some remedial carpentry and plumbing. *He* was glad to get into a house that he didn't have to retrofit from the studs outward.
no subject
Date: 2016-06-18 04:15 am (UTC)I swear, a couple times I thought i was going to plummet down into the neighbor's kitchen, a hundred gallons of water and me, nude.
*snerk*
I loved that house, and love our current 1935 stone house. It has a 'modern'-ish kitchen and baths, but also has big windows (and lots of them), with broad sills, swirled-plaster ceilings and textured walls, decorative door frames on every door, and hardwood floors. All those goobers dying for granite counters and super-fancy bathrooms...weird. I like old stuff! (so long as it works)