Photography courtesy of deVol, unless noted.
Back when Laura Jones and I shared an apartment on First Avenue and First Street in New York’s East Village, we had two tiny bedrooms off an open living space.
Their daughter, Amelia, was born 13 years ago, and along the way they fully remodeled a house in Wicker Park, but the plan was always to move to the UK, Richard’s software company’s home base. In 2015, the family made the leap.
Oh, and I should mention that marriage and motherhood turned Laura, who is a writer and one of those all-around capable sorts, into an amazing cook.
The cabinetry is from deVol’s Classic English Kitchen line and is all custom-made. It arrived from the company’s workshop as complete structures rather than in modular pieces—and that included the 13-foot island.
The first time we viewed our house, we had a clear vision of the kitchen occupying what was then the hotel’s gloomy restaurant—with light streaming in through new windows on all sides.
1. Shop around—and gather ideas as you go.
Though we were prepared to put a lion’s share of money and effort into the kitchen, we fully expected both companies to be too expensive to justify in a house more than 200 miles from the London real estate market.
In the designs they proposed each gave us useful ideas that wiggled their way into the end result.
The kitchen spans the entire south side of the house.
2. Dare to think big and tall.
Once demolition began, it was a long time before anything would resemble a room again. The kitchen had never been a kitchen before, and we had nothing to go by for scale except the plans, measured in millimeters of all things.
Admittedly, though, there are downsides: it’s a trek from the sink to the fridge on the other side of the island, especially when, like me, you almost always forget something.
The Lacanche range, the 150 cm Citeaux, was slotted into an old chimney breast. The black bird sconces are the Alouette Wall Lamp by Atelier Areti.
To communicate with our crew, I had to quickly become fluent in British English. How about our garden designer, Lizzie Tulip?
3. Speak the local building lingo.
To the bewilderment of some Americans who have visited, we outfitted the butler’s sink with deVol’s Aged Brass Mayan Taps.
4. Divvy up the details to obsess over.
One of the reasons Richard and I enjoy doing this sort of thing together is that we both have severely details-oriented personalities. We trust each other because we know the other person has considered every option on the planet.
One day I found him drilling holes in the ends of our brand-new kitchen island to rig up a Downton Abbey-style Georgian tight-wire, bell-pull system that rings in the basement and a push-button gadget that makes an awful noise in Amelia’s room in the attic.
One of the most used corners of the kitchen is our coffee station. Because the overhead cabinet had to clear it, anyone under 5 foot 10 finds it difficult to reach the second shelf without a step stool (nearby but not pictured).
5. Meet your makers.
It can take a while to feel at home in a new country, but working on this house helped a lot.
On Saturday mornings when Amelia was in school (not her favorite feature of English life), Richard and I would pick up coffee and scones with the heft of cobblestones and drive to one workshop or another, most of them multigenerational family businesses.
The Moroccan zelliges backsplash tiles are from Emery & Cie of Belgium, purchased during a summer 70-percent-off sale—we were on vacation in Dorset when I heard about the sale; I was on the phone with Brussels for a lot of the time ordering these (and much more) before they went out of stock.
For amateurs navigating a big project, and choosing to act as our own interior designers, the kitchen was a good place to establish principles and parameters to be applied throughout.
6.Treat your kitchen as your design lab.
That said, we didn’t want to live in a house that was slavish to a period, and knew it would feel phony to try for something quintessentially English, whatever that is.
The entire “pantry run” also arrived in one piece.
The lights over the island are Original BTC s Doma pendants and the dining table lights are Claus Bonderup and Torsten Thorup s Semi Pendants one in brass the other chrome the design was introduced in 1968 and...
...it took me a long time to hunt down vintage versions in the right size they no longer make them quite this big and patina not too shiny there s also a small one over the butler s sink
Just as we were about to approve the final design, after which no changes could be made, and write our last nonrefundable check, I looked at the plans and realized I hadn’t fully thought about our storage needs.
7. Know where your cereal boxes go before signing off on the plans.
At that point our kitchen supplies were all in boxes, so I did a frantic mental walk-through of our Chicago cupboards and sent our designer a list which over the next couple of days I kept updating as things occurred to me.
By closing up an existing entryway into the next room, we gained extra depth for a walk-in pantry in the center of the storage wall, for things like the aforementioned cereal boxes.
The appliance cupboard holds the microwave, among other things.
The cliché about Americans is that we want everything big and ultra-convenient, and it definitely holds true for me (and Richard) to some extent. But I love it that scruffiness and imperfection are art forms here.
8. Never lose your foreign accent.
Tipping isn’t etched into the social contract in the UK like it is at home; instead it’s tea, coffee, and biscuits in abundance and with great frequency throughout the working day.
Plaster ceiling roses and a collection of vintage paintings set off the dining area. We gathered our antique Windsors in odd lots as the room was finally falling into place.
Photograph by Margot Guralnick.