A failing quick-flip kitchen, a century-old house, and the chance to rebuild the room around how we actually live.
Before & After
One room. Two very different chapters.
Drag across the image to compare the quick-flip kitchen we inherited with the finished room — a renovation that became as much about rebuilding the bones as changing the finishes.
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BeforeAfter
The Story
A renovation that started beneath our feet.
What looked like a recently renovated kitchen quickly revealed itself to be a much bigger project. Beneath the cosmetic updates were a failing floor, layers of earlier alterations, and a layout that never quite worked for the way we live. Rebuilding it meant repairing the structure first, then finding the balance between a 1919 house and a kitchen designed for modern life.
The kitchen looked complete when we bought the house, but living with it exposed the shortcuts. The floor sagged and sloped, the large-format faux-marble tile cracked constantly, and standing at the stove or sink could literally mean feeling another piece crumble beneath our feet.
The layout carried the history of several earlier alterations too. Former servants’ stairs still emptied directly into the kitchen; an enclosed rear porch created a second zone divided by a substantial beam; an unused radiator occupied valuable space beneath the window; and a small window near the back door complicated the cabinetry without offering much light or view.
The stairs were historic and structurally sound, so removing them was not a casual decision. But they consumed space the kitchen badly needed for storage and circulation. Once the failing floor made a renovation unavoidable, we decided to rethink the room as a whole rather than continue working around features that no longer served the house.
The inherited spaceBright enough, but the finishes and layout never felt convincing for the house.Flip-era choicesA room that looked complete from a distance, but revealed its compromises quickly.Room to rethinkThe existing footprint offered more potential than the previous layout allowed.
The project was no longer about replacing finishes. It was about deciding what the house needed to keep — and what it was ready to let go.
02
Opening it up
A real plan — and the people to make it happen.
For the redesign, we brought in our friends Keith and Evan, experienced renovators who had also worked on televised Detroit home projects. From the first design meetings, it was clear that our tastes aligned and that they understood what we wanted: a kitchen appropriate to the house without turning it into a period reproduction.
The servants’ stairs came out, creating room for better storage and circulation. The unused radiator was removed, and the awkward window near the back door was properly bricked in so cabinetry and wall tile could run cleanly across the wall. Keith and Evan also helped resolve the old porch beam so it read as an intentional transition rather than a divider between two halves of the room.
Then the floor came open. Several joists were badly deteriorated, finally explaining the sagging, slope, and shattered tile. The compromised structure was repaired or replaced and the floor rebuilt properly before anything decorative went back in. It was the least glamorous part of the project — and arguably the most important.
Putting it on paperThe first design studies brought the classic proportions, island, and checkerboard floor into focus.The visionA kitchen that would feel polished and current without looking disconnected from a 1919 house.No turning backCabinetry out, appliances moved, and the quick flip officially dismantled.Opening it upOnce the walls came apart, the scale of the transformation became very real.Under the surfaceOpening the floor revealed rotted joists that had to be replaced before anything beautiful could go back in. Not glamorous, but essential to making the kitchen solid for decades to come.A new frameworkWith framing and subfloor underway, the room finally began moving forward instead of simply coming apart.
By the end of demolition, the kitchen had a new framework both physically and visually.
03
Designing for our life
A kitchen built for Tuesday night — and the holidays.
Once the structure was right, we could finally design around the way we actually cook and entertain. We wanted the room to feel comfortable in a century-old house while working like a modern kitchen.
An island had always been on the wish list, although we were never certain the footprint would allow one. After measuring and remeasuring, we landed on a size that preserved comfortable clearances while adding prep space, storage, seating, and a natural gathering place for guests.
Because we host holiday dinners and events, the appliance plan needed more capacity than a typical everyday kitchen. We chose a 36-inch range, added a second oven in the wall, integrated the microwave into the wall-oven setup rather than giving up counter space, and included a wine refrigerator within easy reach. The checkerboard floor, painted cabinetry, brass details, stained wood island, and wall-to-wall subway tile gave all that function a look that felt classic without pretending to be original to 1919.
Structure taking shapeThe new footprint became readable long before anything looked finished.Walls againFresh drywall: perhaps the least glamorous milestone that somehow feels enormously exciting.The first few squaresThe checkerboard started as a design idea and immediately became the room’s signature.Drama underfootClassic, graphic, and unapologetic — exactly the energy the room needed.Cabinet dayThe point when construction debris suddenly starts resembling a kitchen.Tile, tile, tileTaking the wall tile high made the room feel more architectural and much more intentional.Almost therePaint, millwork, brass, and cabinetry finally speaking the same language.The tiny decisionsWhere new tile meets original flooring: a small transition that needed to feel deliberate.
The room was designed to work just as well for dinner for two as it does when the house is full.
04
The reveal
A kitchen designed to be lived in.
The finished kitchen is dramatically different from the room we inherited, but the most meaningful changes are not necessarily the ones that photograph best.
The floor no longer slopes or crumbles beneath our feet. The awkward window and unused radiator are gone. The former servants’ stairs have become useful storage, and the old porch addition finally feels like part of the same room.
The cabinetry, brass, stained wood island, stone surfaces, checkerboard floor, and generous tile give the room the character we wanted, but every beautiful choice is backed by a practical one. There is room to prep while someone pours wine, enough oven capacity for a holiday dinner, and space for friends to gather without bringing the entire kitchen to a standstill.
Quiet confidenceThe finished room does not need to shout. The cabinetry, stone, brass, and dark island do the work.Photo: Evan ThomasThe showstopperThe range wall became the focal point — tailored millwork, classic subway tile, and a brass pot filler adding just enough jewelry.Photo: Evan ThomasWorth the waitFrom the checkerboard floor to the stained island, the finished room feels polished, personal, and completely at home here.Photo: Evan Thomas
The goal was never to make the kitchen look old. It was to make it feel as though it belonged here all along.
The result
A kitchen built for the next chapter.
The finished room keeps the house’s history in view while working for the way we live now — structurally sound, built for entertaining, and far more intentional in every detail. It is not a reproduction of a 1919 kitchen. It is a modern kitchen that feels completely comfortable inside a 1919 house — and completely ours.
