The Kitchen

One man's quest to seek out--and be inspired by--the great historic kitchens of Canada and the USA. John Ota was a man on a mission--to put together the perfect kitchen. He and his wife had been making do with a room that was frankly no great advertisement for John's architectural expertise. It just about did the job but for a room that's supposed to be the beating heart of a home and a joy to cook in, the Otas' left a lot to be desired. And so John set out on a quest across North America, exploring examples of excellent designs throughout history, to learn from them and apply their lessons to his own restoration. Along the way, he learned about the origins and evolution of the kitchen, its architecture and its appliances. He cooked, with expert instruction. And he learned too about the homes and their occupants, who range from pilgrims to President Thomas Jefferson, from turn of the century tenement dwellers to 21st century Vancouver idealists, from Julia Child to Georgia O'Keeffe, and from Elvis Presley to Louis Armstrong. John Ota has a refreshingly upbeat approach and a hunger for knowledge (and indeed for food). His energy and enthusiasm are contagious, and his insights of lasting value. Illustrated throughout, with photographs and also with drawings by the author, this is a book for homeowners, home makers, interior designers, cooks, armchair historians, and for anyone who--like John Ota before them--is looking for inspiration for a renovation.

“In The Kitchen, John Ota celebrates the room that is the heart of every home. As a designer dedicated to minimalism, Ota’s journey challenges him to rethink what’s important. From the warm memories of his mother’s lovingly chaotic cooking space to the premeditated clutter of Julia Child’s iconic kitchen, he digs deep to explore how our idea of the room has evolved; what it has been and what it will become. Impeccably researched and beautifully written, there is no other book I know of that is quite like it.” Bonnie Stern

Autorentext

John Ota

Leseprobe
INTRODUCTION
My love for kitchens began at an early age. My happiest childhood memories are of spending time in the kitchen in our family home. I grew up in a working-class neighbourhood in Toronto. My dad built boats and my mom was a high school art teacher. We were not wealthy, but I never felt poor, and the shelves of the refrigerator always groaned from the weight of stews, knishes, dai baos, sushi, coq au vin and lasagnas. We loved to eat. My two younger brothers and I ate so continuously that my dad used to watch in horror as his paycheque was devoured before his eyes.

The kitchen was the hub of the house. All breakfasts, lunches, dinners and snacks were consumed there. But almost more important than the meals, it was also the place of family discussions, talks about holiday plans, hockey games, report cards, politics, hosting neighbours and relatives and my mom’s daily report about her teaching day.

Our kitchen was the opposite of today’s sleek white ideal. It was semi-organized chaos surrounded by loud orange-and-green wallpaper. Flour, sugar, tea and coffee in scratched-up canisters held together with masking tape out on counters; salt, pepper, sugar in open plastic cups by the stove; bottles of olive oil and vinegar everywhere; knives, can openers, bottle openers, rice cooker within easy reach; mountains of cookbooks stacked against the walls. It was a kitchen for cooking in, not for being photographed.

From my architecture and historic preservation studies, and later at work, I found that most people did not share my reverence for the kitchen. Most would ooh and aah over the elaborate architectural details elsewhere in historic houses. I enjoyed those too, but I was always more drawn to the room others ignored. When I told colleagues about my obsession, they would tilt their heads and look at me strangely, as if to say, “You’re not a real preservationist.” To most of them, historical preservation was about the entrance halls, palm rooms and parlours.

I’ve worked in the field of architecture for over forty years, as a writer, designer, historic preservationist and curator, so people often want to talk to me about their house renovations. The first question I ask them is, “What is your perfect kitchen?” It’s the ice breaker. The kitchen is the subject of everyone’s strongest, truest opinions. Without exception, when asked about the kitchen, people express their wants, visions and wish lists to me.

“I’d love a long, sweeping island.”

“I need more counter space.”

“A big stainless steel refrigerator would be wonderful.”

Their real passion is not for the living room or the bathroom or the dining room. Renovations begin in and flow from the kitchen, because it is the centre of everything that happens in the house.

Each of us has a vision of the perfect kitchen. I have designed, written about and fallen in love with small and large kitchens, old and new kitchens, with big budgets and small, for clients and for friends. And I have met people with unique ideas for the perfect kitchen.

In one project, all the building materials, appliances and floor plans were considered with the family dog in mind. I understood. I was a dog in my previous life. On another high-end project, the client specified mirrored tile for the backsplash. When I commented that the mirrored tile might be a problem to keep clean during cooking, she shrugged and replied, “So who cooks?”

Well, I do. Cooking—and eating—are among my greatest pleasures.

I make no great claims for myself as a cook. I mostly rustle up straightforward roasts, soups and salads. But I also love experimenting in unfamiliar (to me) culinary areas (currently, Japanese delicacies like grilled sea bream with miso). My favourite place to be is the kitchen. To me, the kitchen is not just the most important room in my house. It is the centre of my life.

In 2005, my wife, Franny, and I built our own house in a contemporary style. At the time, to control costs, we held back on some nice things for the kitchen. But today our lives have changed. Most evenings we cook at home, our entertaining has happily increased, and although I do most of the cooking, Franny has been doing more.

With both of us spending more time around food, Franny wants to renovate the kitchen. It’s a cramped and crowded space for two people. And while I’ve grown accustomed to its inadequacies, Franny views the room with the critical eye of the newly converted.

It’s awkwardly laid out, she says. Its constituent parts are “not in the right place.”

Let’s face it—my wife hates the kitchen.

I find this disturbing, because I try to keep my wife happy.

And so I embarked on a quest. I decided to explore examples of excellent kitchen designs from throughout North American history in order to learn from them so I could improve our own. I would delve into the origins of the kitchen and examine how its architecture evolved in response to new appliances, cooking methods and the shift from cooking being done by invisible servants in separate buildings to its being the one activity that draws the family together.

And because I wanted to do more than just put together different elements from great kitchens, I began my quest by distilling a raison d’être.

I wrote down the three things I wanted my perfect kitchen to do:

*Stimulate creativity: Sriracha, native wild rice, dandelion greens—every time I turn around I want to explore another new ingredient. I need updated kitchen equipment, like a bigger kitchen fan to draw away smoke so that I can blacken catfish. We would experiment more with elaborate dishes …