The Scandinavian Kitchen Renovation: An Immigrant's Tale of Merging Two Worlds
When I moved to America, I thought my biggest challenge would be the language. The endless idioms, the need to pronounce "aluminum" without feeling like I was betraying my roots. But it turned out, the real test was Scandinavian kitchen renovation—or as the locals say, "renovating." A word too energetic for a project requiring a bucketful of patience.
Scandinavian Elegance in an American Kitchen
I wanted to bring a slice of my Scandinavian soul into this new world of bagels and oddly flipping light switches. In Scandinavia, the kitchen is sacred. It’s a place of understated elegance where everything has its rightful place. Natural wood, whites, and grays soothe, not overwhelm. Function practically stalks form, ensuring every hinge and drawer is perfect.
American Kitchen Style: A Different Approach
But America is different. Here, I've seen kitchens designed for discos, with countertops thick enough to endure a nuclear blast. At the hardware store, I searched for simple pine shelving—something soft, natural, something that could have come from a forest with moose roaming around. Instead, I found aisle upon aisle of cabinetry seemingly created by people watching too much daytime TV. The "rustic Americana" options were full of faux-distress, like performance art on aging.
I explained my needs to the salesperson. "I want something light, natural, simple—practicality in kitchen design disguised as charm," I said. She smiled sympathetically. "You want a farmhouse look!" she said brightly. No, I did not want charm. I wanted a kitchen that quietly asked, "Why do you have so many things?"
Finding the Middle Ground
Eventually, we found middle ground. I chose an island, which felt very American—like a yacht or a big dog. The top was light wood, almost Scandinavian on a cloudy day. The island was practical, perfect for storing blenders and gadgets I now felt obligated to own. I made peace with a granite countertop called "Baltic Brown," which felt like a small nod to home.
Merging Scandinavian and American Lifestyles
The hardest part wasn’t the material choices or layout. It was merging two distinct lifestyles. In Scandinavia, every space serves a purpose. One drawer for utensils, one shelf for plates. Perhaps an open shelf for a charming potted plant if you feel decadent. Here, people insisted I needed a pantry—an actual room for food. The space in America demanded more than a few well-placed shelves; it needed a small annex.
The American Oven: A Symbol of Grandeur
Then there was the oven. Americans believe in big ovens—ones that could fit a mid-sized reindeer if needed. I think there are more castles in Sweden than ovens in American suburbs. Although I've never needed to roast that much food, I secretly enjoyed the grandeur—as if preparing for a feast of fifty, though I can barely cook for two.
The Final Kitchen: A Blend of Two Worlds
In the end, my kitchen became a blend of Scandinavian and American styles. Clean lines, neutral tones, and an oversized fridge. It’s practical but ready for anything—whether it's a small breakfast of pickled herring or a Thanksgiving turkey that needs a forklift. It’s a kitchen that speaks two languages. It balances simplicity and abundance, figuring out how to be both understated and bold.
I chose an IKEA kitchen customization with custom natural wooden doors featuring integrated handles. The clean, simple lines of Scandinavian design felt perfect, with just enough customization to make it uniquely mine. It was a nod to my roots, but with the practicality demanded by my new home. Here is the way how to customize Ikea kitchen.