Cooking & Design

What Part Does Cooking Play in Kitchen Design?
By Don Silvers and Moorea Hoffman

I've been told over the years, that you don't need to know how to cook to design a kitchen. Many designers and architects argue that hands-on cooking experience just isn't necessary, as long as they understand the role of each component—cabinets, appliances, countertops—as it relates to the whole kitchen. Last year, my writing partner, Moorea Hoffman, attended a seminar along with other designers, architects and builders. She was thrilled to hear attendees talking about the importance of high-quality appliances and multiple sink stations. "Function" was on everyone's lips. Imagine her disappointment when the final project floor plans revealed that talking about function didn't mean you could design it. Most of the kitchens were "roller skate kitchens" with prep sinks having no relationship to cooking stations. They were a jumbled mess of task "zones" where the logical progression of food preparation was ignored. Amazingly, the presenters touted the functionality of each of these spaces, proving that understanding the language of functional design and even the components of functional design means nothing if you don't understand how they work together.

When all is said and done, a kitchen is for cooking. We've all heard the excuse that consumers don't cook. But statistics show that's a minority—and even consumers who don't cook frequently will want to make a cup of tea, scramble some eggs, or even cook for ten to twelve people on occasion (for exact statistics, refer to KBB March, Page 38 Systematic Thinking). I have to repeat, the end use of a kitchen is cooking. No matter how you pretty it, how perfect the focal point, how beautiful the tile or granite, or how sensational the cabinetry—guess what? Someone is going to cook in that kitchen.

Knowing how to cook can not only help a designer create a kitchen that works well—it's a terrific marketing tool. Certified Kitchen Designers certainly know construction: plumbing, electrical, framing—all of those components that, once completed, the consumer never sees again. All they know about plumbing is that when they turn on the faucet, water comes out: hot or cold as needed. No different from the consumer's desire that the finished kitchen function.

Certified Kitchen Designers also know aesthetics and the necessities: cabinetry, tile, counter surface materials. We are very conscious that kitchens are used for socializing, doing homework, paying bills, and watching TV. But by excluding the core function of the kitchen in favor of satellite activities and current design trends, we set our clients and ourselves up for failure. When the kitchen makes cooking harder than it needs to be, it creates stress for the client and reduces the designer's chances for a positive referral—something that is essential for long term success.

I am not suggesting that kitchen designers become professional chefs, as I am. It's not necessary. But many, many consumers cook. To satisfy the needs of this market, designers should be able to put a meal on the table for eight to twelve people without using frozen foods or a microwave, employing the techniques of sautéing, steaming, baking, grilling, etc. I guarantee that designers with this experience will no longer shortchange counter space. No longer will they create a distant pantry for all storage. Nor will they put a refrigerator on one wall, a range on the opposite wall and an empty island in the middle. Designers who cook will know viscerally what features make putting a meal on the table easy and enjoyable.

While many designers have dismissed cooking, just as many have expressed interest in the cooking process. How do we satisfy that interest? One way would be to have NKBA partner with a national cooking school. They could create a simple twelve week course, composed of one night a week for four hours, to teach designers how to cook an impressive array of meals. The NKBA could then certify them and create a new certification, CCKD, Cook and Certified Kitchen Designer. It would be an upgrade on their current CKD, Certified Kitchen Designer designation. That would separate them from all the interior designers and architects who just put the space together without any understanding of how it works. Moreover, the average architect, interior designer and others outside our field would no longer see kitchen designers as cabinet salespeople.

I know creating such a course sounds like a daunting task. But these skills can be taught with surprising ease if we concentrate not on teaching recipes, but on teaching technique. The problem with most cooking classes is they teach a dish, or a menu. The student has fun, goes home and cooks a meal for their friends to lavish praise, but then faces the challenge, "What do I do for an encore?"

In the 1970s, while teaching cooking at UCLA, I devised a different way of approaching cooking lessons. It could be used by any school to create a curriculum for teaching designers the cooking skills needed to understand how a kitchen functions. The class was based on participation, not demonstration. It was divided into ten sessions, three to four hours per session, one evening per week. The first class, I taught vegetables. How to clean them, prep, steam, bake, and grill them. At the end of that class, the students could do a dozen different vegetables in a variety of ways. I did the same thing with eggs, salads, appetizers, soups, and sauces. We had classes focusing on fish, beef, pork and poultry. We finished with a dessert class. At the end of twelve weeks, the students could easily make a meal for eight to ten people, and they had the knowledge to create a variety of menus for a lifetime of cooking pleasure.

One of the ways designers sell their services is by knowing more than the consumer knows about all the components of a kitchen. That's why we get certified—to prove that our knowledge and experience will ensure the client's needs will be satisfied for the long term. The most important function of a kitchen is cooking—no matter whose kitchen it is—and it is common sense that those who sell their knowledge about kitchens should know how to play the instrument they are building.