Bungalow Kitchens

By Patricia Poore

Regular readers of Old-House Journal will have learned by now that the typical bungalow-era kitchen was utilitarian: painted cabinets, wood counters, and a floor laid with linoleum or tile. Mellow rooms fitted out in furniture-quality oak cabinets, lit with art-glass fixtures, and crowned by a wallpaper frieze belong to the ongoing Arts and Crafts Revival, not to the 1920s. Now lots of people prefer the Revival look -- and why not? Often the original kitchen is long gone, anyway, and the new one will be the center of family activity. Times have changed; it's not the day maid at the sink anymore, it's Mom (or Dad). The kids do their homework at the kitchen table while popcorn pops in the microwave. Certainly, a kitchen based on the woodwork in the parlor is less jarring than one outfitted in plastics and stainless steel. A welcome alternative is, however, suggested by the truth about old kitchens. Building a more historically accurate kitchen will probably cost less than the Revival type would. You may not even have to start from scratch! Once you recognize the bones of the 1915 or 1925 kitchen, you just might realize yours are still there: the layout, the stove niche, the pantry cabinets, even the softwood floor that was meant to be overlaid with sheet flooring. 

A new book gives all the details to those who want to know more. Designer and serial renovator Jane Powell had budget in mind when she built simple, white-painted kitchens for her bungalow rescues. Along the way, though, she became somewhat obsessive about the historical record. Her on-budget kitchens are also seamlessly integrated into the houses she renovates, accurate in their materials, lighting, even hardware. To share what she's learned, she teamed-up with photographer Linda Svendsen to produce a book OHJ readers will love. The text is conversational but thorough, the kitchens shown are stylish but not trendy, and her restoration-minded attitude admits of compromise when necessary. People today recognize and relate to the bungalow kitchen -- in a way we could not fathom using a Victorian kitchen of the 1880s. By 1915, houses were generally smaller and the kitchen located in proximity to other rooms. The lady of the house, and not only servants, spent time in the kitchen. Iceboxes (and soon refrigeration), ventilation, built-cabinets and countertops, and gas and electricity all belong to this period. 

(This book, by the way, is not just for bungalow owners. Any house of the period, especially modest and mid-size ones such as Foursquares and Colonial and Tudor Revivals, would have had a kitchen like the ones shown here. And the book can provide guidance for putting a simple kitchen with a period feel into much older houses.) 

Some of the kitchens shown are almost wholly original to the period. Others evolved in the decades between then and now. Some are newly renovated, and at least one is a faithful reconstruction of what used to be there (the owner found the original plans). None of the kitchens is an overwrought status symbol: no countertop acreage, media rooms, or spas appear in this book. But they do run the gamut from the tiniest galley to open spaces incorporating 60-inch stoves, butler's pantries, and breakfast rooms. 

The kitchens of California architects Greene and Greene, which are exceptional for the period, merit their own subchapter. Despite being servant spaces, the rooms were detailed for beauty and ease of use. Also, their cabinets are not painted. The photos from the Gamble, Robinson, Spinks, Irwin, and DeForest houses provide plenty of ideas for those who prefer natural wood in the kitchen. 

Unless you focus on the details, the kitchens in this book could start to look alike. (Lots of white paint and bin pulls.) But that's an indication of their period-accuracy. In truth, a lot of alternatives are presented: floors of fir, painted wood, tile, linoleum, and vinyl; many types of countertop materials, with descriptions of their utility and original appearance; gas and electric lighting; tiled-in as well as wall-hung and farmhouse sinks; brass, nickel, and glass hardware in a range suitable to the years 1905 through the 1930s. Color is by no means absent -- there's an eye-popping, wall-length sink in mint green that has been in place since 1922, several racy tile backsplashes, and colorful shelf edging, dishware, and tea towels. 

One chapter focuses on decisions, detritus, dust, and distress -- dealing with the renovation itself. A separate resource guide lists over 300 suppliers plus consultants, organizations, salvage yards, and Web sites. Throughout the book you'll find author's asides in boxes labeled Obsessive Restoration or Compromise Solution. Some of the obsessive stuff isn't really, like stripping the old hardware of paint and oiling it up to work again. (But another suggests that some people might actually retrofit a compressor in an old icebox, or keep the frost-free model in a mudroom instead of the kitchen.) The compromise solutions are consistently reasonable and cause no damage. 



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