This Japanese House: The Kitchen

It's about damn time, yo. I'm closing in on two years here and I finally, FINALLY have the kitchen to a point that it doesn't make me break down into a sobbing wreck.

Okay, I'm exaggerating slightly. But it did give me all the sads for a long time. Then I thought get over your badself because fuck it, this is Japan. This is a rental house in Japan. This is a far cry from my white marble dream kitchen that, let's face it, isn't ever going to happen for most of us way down here in the 99%.

Time to give THIS kitchen some love! With all its imperfections. No more drippy in-depth complaining about how I don't have an oven, garbage disposal, or dishwasher, or about the ugly faucet, or the harsh overhead fluorescent light I never ever turn on, or about the redundant, awkward sliding door to the bathroom right next to the refrigerator, or that the 5'10" back door is sized for midgets Japanese people and we couldn't figure out how to open it for three months, or the confusing little fish broiler drawer beneath the stovetop in which I always burn toast, or the beige fake marble plastic wall panels, or the counters that are almost 4" shorter than standard western counter height, or the totally wack storage space ... in the floor.

Nope. Not talking about those things beyond listing them just now. Check. I also won't start in on the pathetic longing for my other kitchens, 1 & 2.

Instead I'll point out the very affordable cute little white perfectly-sized fridge from Muji.

And the über cool black hood ...

... over the adorable yet hardworking 3-burner gas stovetop.

And the amazingly low-maintenance stainless steel countertop that I LOVE.

Hey-o, check out my fancy Sori Yanagi kettle I picked up for half the price I'd pay outside of Japan.

Oh how I prefer kitchen drawers over cabinets. See how I covered those drawers with removable chalkboard wallpaper because they're pink.

Here are the shelves I built for about $40 and mounted on the sliding doorframe to the bathroom. (there's a normal door to the bathroom from the hallway, too)

Oh yeah, and not to mention just the whole charming wabi-sabi Japanness of it all. Gotta say I'm pret-ty stoked I'm not too mortified to post photos of this kitchen out on the scary Internets. Trying to keep it real by focusing on and appreciating what's good and accepting what I cannot change. Just like that dumb quote tells us – you know, the one hipsters tattoo on their midriffs.

So what do you think? Does my bizarro kitchen or house change any perceptions you may have had about living in Japan? (see more house here, here & here)

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Screw Household Convenience, This is Japan

Here is the entirety of my Japanese kitchen except for the refrigerator. See if you can spot the dishwasher. Oh, you can't because there isn't one.

I live in Japan without the following items: dishwasher, garbage disposal, clothes dryer, oven, insulated walls, central heating, fenced yard, outdoor seating or privacy, and garage. No, I didn't become a Buddhist nun and move to a monastery deep in a bamboo forest, this is just how everyday Japanese people live.

Wait. Japan?? ... Land of fancy cameras, hi-tech gadgets, video games, stereo equipment, televisions, Hello Kitty, and ubiquitous hybrid cars?

Yes. Japan.

Right? Imagine my surprise. Let's start with dishwashers. Except for camping trips, the last time I had no dishwasher was in college when I lived in a cute little converted 1-car garage in Boulder. WTF, Japaaann.

Here are some reasons I've come up with for this gaping hole in daily household life:

The gender problem. Like many other shall we disrespectfully call them less enlightened societies, home care in Japan is built into the duties of women. Traditionally their role is to accept these duties quietly and willingly, which they have historically done. Think 1950s America. Until the last few decades, Japanese women have been given few equal opportunities in the career world. It's still generally accepted that most women will stay in the home and work their asses off there all day, primarily because they lack first world modern conveniences. I call it oppressive but then I'm just an insensitive, lazy westerner.

Lack of space. Lots of city-dwellers in the western world live in cramped spaces and wash dishes by hand too, female or not. In cities it's about lack of space in Japan too, many Japanese apartments don't have kitchens at all, let alone space for anything more than 2 burners and a mini refrigerator. But I live in a house, surrounded by average homes that are in fact big, even by US standards (like 2,000 square feet) so the lack-of-space excuse doesn't fly. Also, when I lived in a small city apartment in Europe we had a smaller kitchen than we do in Japan yet it included an 18" dishwasher. So it's not really about lack of space.

The trade philosophy. I suspect it's also about Japanese isolationism and the government's long-term unwillingness to trade with the rest of the world. Well, they definitely trade OUT (PlayStation anyone? Toyota? Canon?) yet they bring IN very little, theoretically to keep their economy going (until now, that is) by selling few goods domestically that are not Japanese. And they basically don't make dishwashers, or import them. (Samsung and LG are Korean brands, the lucky bastards!) At the Ikea here in Japan I did notice dishwashers on their show floor are all made by the Swedish company Electrolux, and were not available for sale.  In fact, Japan does not allow Ikea to sell any appliances.

A few countertop dishwashers are made here – you know, the kind that hook up to the sink. This Panasonic looks like spawn of a toaster oven and bread maker. It also looks cheap and gadgety and probably doesn't work well if it's anything like my washing machine, which doesn't actually clean unless you run it for two or three cycles. And where does this beast go when it's not in use? Are you supposed to leave it out, taking up precious counter space? Yeah. NO.

Kitchen design. I know we all like to think that everyone in Japan lives in modern minimalistic design heaven, but that simply isn't the case for I'd say about 95% of the population. Japanese houses are built quickly out of cheap materials and are not meant to last. Homes are extremely utilitarian, and they're pretty much all the same inside. The Acme grade kitchen unit (like mine, pictured up above) is one big piece and exists almost identically in most homes.

Obedience. Japanese people don't complain and they're surprisingly nationalistic and trust their big companies and government to keep the country happy. It has served them well and really, why have a dishwasher when you've never needed one before? Fuck innovation and convenience. This is Japan.

I'm clearly still working on acceptance here. To embrace my new role as top dish dog, quite the dubious honor, I have tips for life without a mechanized dishwasher:

+ one pot cooking
+ make lots of sandwiches
+ get take out and dine out often
+ snacks (but avoid too many Funyuns)
+ daytime water glass = evening wine glass
+ never thought I'd say this but use paper plates and eat off paper towels whenever possible
+ wash and dry immediately and put everything away to avoid depression, bugs, and counter-surfing boxer dogs
+ try to remember to use rubber gloves (I almost never do)
+ if you have more than one person in your household, switch daily between washing and drying
+ to avoid further depression and feeling as if feminism was just a figment of your imagination, use good dish soap you really like – believe it or not I actually order Mrs. Meyers through iHerb (they have all kinds of great stuff and ship to Japan for only $4)
+ ditto for dish towels – when I'm stateside I nab plain white flour sack towels at Target 

Desperate times, yo! Okaaay, more like first world problems, Japan-style.

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I Have This Thing With Kitchens

When I stalk a house or apartment online or in print, I quickly flip through to get to the kitchen. It makes zero sense because I don't really cook. No, that's why I keep my spouse around, as my personal chef and manservant of course. Yeah, so I can't explain the kitchen obsession. I guess because I like food.

Anyway, I've completed several kitchen overhauls (like, say, this one) and today I present my 1920s bungalow kitchen renovation in Denver, the house I shortly thereafter rented out to someone else while I took off to live in Japan. Tragic, no? (Yes.)

Everyone loves a kitchen re-do. Here's how it looked when I bought the house – we all know the sweet-ass vintage '80s/'90s look.

That hurts my eyes. Could have been worse but you know I was dying to get my hands on it. After a lot of obsessing and a yearlong shitstorm of squirreling away every cool design I came across onto my kitchen board, I ended up with a very basic, affordable style with plenty of flexibility for personalization.

Here's how it all went down.

First, I emptied the old cabinets and made a temporary kitchen in the adjoining office complete with cereal, s+p, coffee press (in the bathroom sink for this picture), mini crock pot (unused), electric kettle, toaster, some other things I can't remember now, and microwave in the closet. This is all I need in a kitchen to survive anyway, so it wasn't a difficult adjustment. Luckily the refrigerator stayed in place and the renovation happened around it.

The crew removed the old cabinets in about 37 minutes. Amazing. If only the rest of the job had gone like that.

And off it went.

The new cabinets took weeks and weeks because the Ikea installation company assigned to my project had only one guy to spare. Fortunately he was a meticulous installer with an insane work ethic (14 hour days?) but I felt bad for him and helped out more than I ever thought possible. But hey, I learned a lot. Like, say, that I never want to install cabinets on my own.

Gradually the room started taking shape. I didn't change the layout much, which kept the project manageable and relatively short-lived.

And one day, the stove wasn't in the middle of the dining room anymore.

Then the counter went in ...

... and the sink.

Crazy amounts of stupid little decisions go into kitchen renovations, most of which I'm now suppressing. Fortunately.

At this point I started painting the walls and reluctantly began to contemplate backsplash ideas. Such a commitment! I've never been good at commitment.

Things were progressing quickly toward the end and I still hadn't decided.

The boxers weren't helping, they looked liked this through the entire ordeal.

Then one day it was done.

Just a simple, classic design with a little modernity thrown at it. Removing upper cabinets made the room feel bigger and open. I took the remaining upper cabinets way up to the ceiling so there's no shortage of space for all the cooking things. (We have a lot.) I keep the microwave in the un-pictured hall closet, microwaves are ugly and mess with my spartan vibe. This is why I built an under-counter microwave shelf in my studio kitchen.

Something missing? Ha-haa! No backsplash. But for once I was happy about my perpetual state of indecision because I started liking the minimal look I had going. I went back and forth ad nauseam on plain subway tile or marble slab or marble subway tile or hex marble tile but for now I really like the simple, clean, no-noise look. I used good paint so food splatter comes right off and I can touch it up if needed.

I considered painting that back plaster wall a dark color like (whaaat) black or streaky grey. Backsplash possibilities are endless, clearly a real problem for me. Suggestions welcome. But for now the best answer really was the simplest, and in this case the cheapest. I'm calling it Occam's Anna's razor.

Sorry about the shit photos, I mostly used my old iPhone due to laziness. The entire project took 8 weeks from start to finish, not including the faucet that was backordered for months.

And there you have it, my sweet little kitchen in Denver that I'm not even currently using.

The goods: Ikea cabinets and sink, Bosch appliances, quartz counters with matte finish (because concrete is significantly more expensive and curing would have taken too long and I have no patience), Vigo faucet, barn wood shelves on Ikea brackets, and the clamp light is from Amazon, also comes in white.

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Jacked Up Seasonal Affective Disorder

Summer. You can have it. Oppressive heat, sunburn, humidity, mold, insect colonies, stagnant air, scorching pavement, air conditioning ... all the hateful things. I didn't mean to stop posting here, but my energy level dropped into sub-existence and my world melted into a steaming hot mess. I lost interest in just about everything except cold alcoholic beverages and, well, that's not such a good thing. I hereby blame all of my shortcomings on summer. (Deflection is an art, you know.)

ANYWAY. Fall has arrived! And I say, thank fuck.

In celebration of my favorite season as well as a lasting return from the pit of despair I call summer, I give you this Dutch apartment by Studio Bakker. I absolutely love this space and how the quiet colors and low light are all about autumn.

I have this thing about kitchens. This one is no exception. It's open and simple and I want it.

I love that it looks like a real kitchen where someone might actually live, not just styled and posed for the shoot. I want to linger at that table in the morning drinking hot espresso made with the sweet little machine on the counter. The minimal under-counter refrigerator leads me to believe this apartment is surrounded by amazing take-out restaurants and there has to be a gourmet grocery store and bakery on the corner.

I usually go for white and bright but this room is so restful and simple, if somewhat masculine. Fine by me, I like men in my bedroom.

Oh the power of photography, always providing the stuff of dreams. I pretty much want to move in to this place right now because it will undoubtedly make my life perfect and serene. (Even if that big plant display on the table is a bit much.)

So yeah, I think I'm back. Thanks to this apartment, the pivot of the earth's axis, and a certain blogger friend who yanked me from that soul-sucking spiral of self-defeatism and purposelessness we all needlessly head down sometimes. (Please tell me it's not just me.)

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