In praise of the kitchen that gets used

There is a particular kind of kitchen you see a lot in new Lagos apartments. Gloss everywhere, an island nobody sits at, and a hob that has never met a pot of ofada sauce. It looks finished. It is not, in any meaningful sense, ready for cooking.

We wanted the opposite. A kitchen you could make jollof for eight in without moving furniture. Counters at a height that doesn't hurt your back. Pans that are actually heavy enough to use. Somewhere to put the shopping down when you walk in.

The test of a Sunday

The best way to judge a kitchen is to imagine a slow Sunday in it. Rice soaking, something on the stove for two hours, a friend leaning on the counter with a drink. If the room works for that, it will work for everything else.

“If the room works for a slow Sunday, it will work for everything else.”

It is also, honestly, about permission. A kitchen that looks too precious tells you not to cook. A kitchen with good light, worn-in wood and space to make a mess tells you the opposite. People respond to that more than they realise.

So yes, we care about how it looks. But the compliment we like hearing most is a simple one: “I made pepper soup last night.”