Updated 09/12/2025
So, let’s talk about my kitchen. Oh, my sweet little kitchen remodel. You’d think as a chef I would have it all figured out—like some magical blueprint tucked in my apron pocket. Nope. I made mistakes. Big, small, laughable, expensive. The kind where Max just stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised, like “Laura… really?”
First thing: cabinets. I wanted the low-VOC, eco-friendly ones, which sounds so noble and green until you realize the lead time is forever. I swear I aged three years just waiting for them to arrive. By the time the boxes showed up, I’d already been cooking on a camp stove for so long I started calling it my “indoor food truck.” Pro tip: order early, or you’ll be heating soup in the bathroom like a college student.
Then paint. Oh, the paint. I marched into the store like, “Give me the healthiest, cleanest option!” They handed me this zero-VOC formula that, to be honest, smelled like… wet cardboard? I had a mini meltdown thinking my walls were going to smell like an old basement forever. Max, ever the health inspector, assured me it was just “curing.” He was right, but it didn’t stop me from obsessively sniffing the walls for a week straight like a lunatic.
Countertops? Let’s just say I tried to save money with “eco-friendly laminate.” Don’t do it. One pasta pot later and I had a scorched corner that looked like a meteor had landed in my kitchen. Spend the money on quartz, or butcher block if you’re okay with a little character. The cheap route will haunt you every time you roll out pizza dough.
The good part: non-toxic finishes on everything. No chemical clouds hanging in the air. My pans aren’t sliding across plastic-coated counters, and I don’t feel like I’m slow-poisoning myself while chopping onions. Worth every frustrating decision.
If I could go back, I’d keep it simple. Fewer “Pinterest dreams,” more practical choices that make cooking fun instead of fussy. And maybe I’d let Max veto the weird experimental light fixture I ordered at 2 a.m. (which looked like a UFO and lasted two days before it got sent back).
Now? I have a kitchen that feels clean, safe, and me. A place where I can simmer broth, make messes, and yell “who left the almond flour open?!” without worrying about what’s off-gassing from the walls. Mistakes were made, but at least you can laugh at mine while you pick better cabinets and save your marriage from camp stove cooking.