Belly up to the Bookcase; Retro Kitchen

To some, a home is merely a structure where you sleep, shower, shit, and shave. To me, it's a refuge, a space where you can hide away from the worries of the world, and the nest should be feathered with as many little luxuries and comforts as one can afford. As far back as I can remember, I always thought a hallmark of home luxury was the home beverage bar. I never lived in a home that had one; at most, we had a table with a few bottles of liquor, mixers, and glasses. I remember visiting the homes of people who had something more built-in, sometimes with running water and/or a mini fridge, and thought how marvelous it would be to have something like that in my own home one day.

I attempted a beverage bar of sorts when I still lived with my parents. Having taken over my elder brother's bedroom as my own office, I had an entire closet at my disposal. I obtained a plywood board about 18 inches deep, covered it with matte black shelf liner, and installed it as a counter surface using shelf brackets. The already-present upper shelf was a good place to mount a stemware rack and hooks for beer mugs. From the downstairs utility room I unearthed my sister's old dorm fridge, which went under the counter. I wanted a mirrored backdrop of some sort, and settled on a $5 12"x48" mirror from Wal-Mart. It was crude and makeshift, and didn't even have any alcoholic beverages, since I hadn't yet discovered the pleasures of imbibing the devil's brew, but damn it, I had a bar! I stored soft drinks in the fridge and served them in stemware to friends. Eventually I grew tired of it, since I honestly wasn't really using it much, and dismantled it in favor of storing my archives.

So not too long ago, I studied an underutilized built-in bookcase in my present living room and decided it would be an ideal spot for serving spirituous beverages to guests, or just making myself a cocktail after another shift in the cubicle. Different ideas swirled around in my head, but I knew that ultimately it needed to function as a one-stop beverage service station. Running water was out of the question since my humble home rests atop a concrete slab foundation, but I could still lend a touch of luxury to my living room with shelves laden with liquor, mixers, and glistening glassware. Every truly fine home bar I've seen has a mirrored backing to bounce back the light from the room and make the glassware sparkle. My first sad attempt at replicating this effect on a budget was to purchase mirrored tiles from that cesspool of human misery known as Wal-Mart and affix them to the back of the bookcase with mounting tape. Right out of the box they gave me problems, as they had been hacked up by simple-minded Indonesian child laborers who had no respect for 90-degree angles, leading to unsightly gaps between the tiles where they didn't perfectly align. I pressed ahead anyway, procuring new shelves cut an inch shallower to accommodate the mirrors and painting them gloss white myself. With everything in place, I stocked the shelves with martini glasses, 6 crystal rocks glasses that I had procured at an Eckerd's in 1998 for $5, our liquor collection, an ice bucket, and a couple bottles of club soda and tonic water. It wasn't long before the cheap mounting tape behind the even cheaper tiles started to give out, and tiles would slowly slide at a glacial pace down the wall, forming interesting geometric patterns. One day I'd had enough of looking at this embarrassing spectacle, and on an impulse I Googled "36 48 mirror." And Lo! The angel of the Google appeared and said "fear not, for I bring tidings of affordable hardware. For available to us this day in the store of Lowes is a mirror, which is $41.99." The next day I purchased my beautiful 36" x 48" solid mirror, scraped off the retarded old Wal-Mart tiles, and mounted it in place. The following week I went out to look for anything that could be of use in making the bar more splendiferous. I purchased some sturdy but attractive rocks glasses, shot glasses, little glass bowls for garnishes such as olives and cherries, toothpicks, and salt & pepper shakers. Then it was off to the food-jobber for cute little cans of tomato juice, orange juice, pineapple juice, and soft drinks, as well as the little glass bottles of tonic water, club soda, and ginger ale, and for a final irresistible flourish, Coca-Cola and Diet Coke in glass bottles. The bookcase bar is absolutely resplendent! Every evening I look forward to coming home and whipping up a cocktail or martini in my living room before a session of mind-rotting celebrity gossip shows.

Not too long ago, I received in the mail a catalog from Crate & Barrel. While lazily leafing through pages of clean lines and uncluttered settings, I came across a photo showcasing various food storage options, all within the interior of a refrigerator. Foods and juices were kept in sparkling glass containers and jugs, without garish product labels or slick, shiny, soulless plastic to offend the eye. This is how food used to be kept in cold closets of yesteryear—leftovers stored in sturdy lidded glass dishes, their patterns of ridges diffusing light into a rippled pattern of color; milk kept in glass bottles without labels cluttered up with government-mandated information that no one reads; juices in ribbed glass jugs, showing off their vibrant oranges and reds; and meats and cheeses wrapped in translucent wax paper or crisp brown butcher paper, waiting to offer a pleasant tactile experience as the consumer unfolds the crinkly paper instead of unzipping a slick plastic bag damp with condensation. The photo brought to mind the kitchen fridge in the kid's house in Empire of the Sun. Whenever I watch it I like to pause the DVD and examine the contents: glass bottles of milk, fresh fruit not in plastic bags, and wedges of cheese on plates with glass domes. Housewives in the '30s and '40s really had something when it came to cold food storage. Maybe they would have given their high heels to have zip-top plastic bags and plastic milk jugs, but I'm ready to give up the bland sterility of Rubbermaid containers and tiresome twist-tie bread bags for something with a little more style and substance. I shall gradually convert my refrigerator's interior into a trip down kitchen memory lane. My first step forward has been to go to the source of my inspiration, Crate & Barrel, and view their food storage options. Huzzah! Their lidded glass containers were on super-sale! I have an assortment on order as I type. I also plan on repackaging things such as cheeses and deli meats in wax paper and brown kraft paper. I've long been a fan of the retro appeal of sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and know fully well the pleasure of unwrapping a treat instead of sliding it out of a sterile plastic sack. I read one tip online that bread can be wrapped in wax paper and then in a flour sack towel, so tonight I'll see about getting some flour sack towels at a dollar store and trying it out. At worst I'll be out a couple dollars and half a loaf of bread. Also at C&B I found some white porcelain egg storage trays as a beautiful alternative to crunchy, squeaky styrofoam egg crates. I was also happy to find a ceramic lidded jar, which, being fully light-tight, should prove an elegant container for my whey protein powder (a light-sensitive product). In the future, I'll purchase some lidded glass jars for breakfast cereal and oatmeal, and glass jugs for milk and juice.