Any flat flipper will know that handsome kitchens add value to homes. I don't intend to sell my place in the near future but as a typical Hongkonger I can't help but consider my return on investment. That was before I checked out the options. Without considering what appliances I'd need to be a gourmet chef, I debated the layout with my friends. 'I want an open, sociable kitchen,' I told Susan. 'Why not have an enclosed room for Chinese cooking and one of those open Poggenpohl kitchens for show?' 'You mean for sex?' I said, recalling the company's TV advert, which has a love-struck owner stroking her worktop wantonly before the word 'desire' flashes over her alluring drawers. Even though a brand-name kitchen was beyond my reach I visited colour.living to see how the other half cooks. Soft lighting, tactile materials and surfaces bigger than pool tables depressed me. I had a mere 100 square feet of space and a budget that had scared away one contractor: he didn't return my calls after I revealed a ceiling of HK$50,000. Just as well. I later discovered the guy builds kitchens costing as much as my entire renovation. He had also installed a light marble counter in the fabulous kitchen of a fabulous acquaintance. Not surprisingly, the porous stone sucked up red wine with the thirst of a white T-shirt on its inaugural outing. I found my ideal kitchen in a book on small homes and followed my architect's suggestion of wood-look laminate cabinets that would be more durable and less expensive than the real thing. 'Just don't call them plastic,' I pleaded, knowing full well that's what they were. Whatever savings the cupboards afforded me, the stainless-steel countertop and splashback snatched away. But no other material would do. White Corian stains easily, granite is too dark and wood's impractical. I wanted a modern, hygienic surface that didn't require the protection of trivets. (Childhood memories of bursting a supposedly heat-proof countertop made me wary of synthetics.) My choice stung: covering a counter and splashback topped HK$20,000. Even at that price I was forced to join a queue of homeowners sold on steel: at a time of irrational extravagance, I discovered, a wait of three months was not unusual. I also wanted a work triangle, I told my team, repeating what I'd read on Ikea's website. It says this is ideal for party kitchens, but the perfect layout is a U shape along three walls. And I'll need lots of cupboards, I said, figuring that if I ran out of space for my shoes I could follow the example of another friend, who stashes stilettos where others stack saucepans. Come to think of it she may be the reason I'm accused of eccentric storage arrangements, although I see nothing wrong with keeping knickers beside the cling wrap: putting everyday goods next to infrequently used items ensures you never forget they're there. After weeks of planning, I read an article that stressed the importance of building a kitchen around decent equipment instead of the other way around. Why didn't I think of that? I cursed silently while totting up the cost, excluding appliances, which are another story. No wonder the first contractor didn't call me back. A second mortgage may be necessary, I told Susan as we pored over oven and extractor-hood brochures. 'It's not too late to have a Poggenpohl kitchen,' she wheedled while flicking on a TV programme about Bangkok street food. My desire for posh drawers evaporated in the time it took to say poo jaa. Holding court was a Thai Nigella Lawson cooking crabs over a portable stove. Storage took the form of buckets and her worktop was an old door. Was she sexy? Undeniably. Was her food tasty? A customer bought dinner before finishing lunch. Did she need a fancy kitchen? Like a nam prik needs bells and whistles. If you have renovation-related tales you would like to share, e-mail Xiu Fang at features@scmp.com
