After removing the old oak slats and replacing them with the salvaged pieces, the floor was a little creaky and uneven despite our best efforts. I added another 30 or so screws to the floorboards until I could step everywhere without the floor depressing more than it does in the rest of the house. Next, I filled all of the holes with oak-colored wood filler.

The only way to smooth out the slats was to sand them into submission with my belt sander. To make quick work of the job, I used a 60 grit belt. It was not only effective at flattening out the slats, but it also pulled every muscle in my body. I felt like a 90 pound girl trying to hold back a hyperactive great dane.

This process blew so much dust into the house that we had to do our Spring cleaning over again. But it really smoothed our the new floor.

Although the belt sander did its job, it left a very rough surface on the floor. After years of woodworking, I’ve come to learn that you need to wet the surface of the wood before you try to sand it to a fine finish. The water not only cleans the dust off, but also stands the grain upright. I’ve made several pieces of furniture that were as smooth as glass until I added a coat of stain. The liquid in the stain stood the grain up and gave me a relatively rough finish that had to be sanded back down, resulting in an uneven color. Another feature of wetting the oak is that you get a glimpse of what it’ll look like when it’s stained. This process revealed that some boards will be darker than I’d hoped.

After spending a couple of days out of town, I returned to finish the floor. I used my hand sander to smooth out the rough-finished slats. I went over and over them with 100 grit and then 150 grit paper. I finished it all up by hand sanding everything with a 220 grit sponge sander. There’s no substitute for using your hands to feel out and smooth the stubborn sections. This put even more dust into the house.

To prep for the stain, I wiped everything down with a damp towel another time. While the floor was drying, I went out to the garage to test Natural and Golden Oak stains on some unused slats. Neither the wife nor I could tell much of a difference between the two colors, so I mixed two parts natural to one part golden oak so that the filler would get a little tint. I put down the stain with an old remnant of a discarded white t-shirt (that’s all I ever use to stain things) and the wife worked behind me wiping the excess off. Fortunately, the color exactly matched the existing stain on boards that I accidentally sanded around the perimeter. Unfortunately, it resulted in a pretty dark color on some of the new wood. I knew this would happen, but it was a little disappointing nonetheless.

The color lightened a little as the stain dried, much to my satisfaction. Next I had to tackle the unfinished filler, which popped out of the wood like a thousand tiny eyeballs. I have a stain marker that’s made for coloring scratches in furniture.

The marker’s pointed tip worked perfectly for coloring the filler. Here’s a before and after picture. You have to strain to find the screw holes.

I’ve decided to wait a few days before I put a thin clear-coat on everything. I want the new slats to get a little worn and lighten up a little first. I might even sand the darker slats a little with my high-grit sponge. The polyurethane will darken it back up. Here’s how it looks now.

When I began this project, I wrote, “I think the reason I let this project linger for so long is because I knew that short of refinishing the floors in the entire house, there was no way I could make new hardwood properly blend in.” As I expected, the new slats look like a patch job. But at least the job was done correctly and it looks professional. It’s kind of charming in a way. Old houses have lots of quirks that give them character. This hardwood patch is yet another quirk. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

The building materials set me back about $300. To put this in context, I could have made this thing for about $150 if I used knotty pine, and maybe $200 if I used select pine.

This was relatively expensive because it’s all red oak and aspen. But in the end, I’ll have a matching pot rack and island that will (hopefully) stay in the family for generations. That’s a small price to pay for an heirloom set.

The island is somewhat adapted from my original coffee table design. To minimize the use of screw holes and wood filler, I had to rely on glue to hold the sides together:

The glue is effective because I routed out channels for the oak plywood. The plywood gives the frame strength and stability, and it also keeps everything square:

This is the most precision job I’ve ever attempted. My amateurism showed through in a couple of instances. I got so frustrated with it last Sunday that I quit halfway through just to clear my head. After work on Monday, my wife helped me fasten the cross beams and glue the backboard into place:

It was at this point that I realized I had made an error. I somehow forgot to subtract the height of the wheels in my design even though I seemingly accounted for them. (See the 34 1/4″ body height in the design. It should have been 30 1/4″) As a result, the island was shaping up to sit about 40″ high, instead of the commonly-accepted 36″ counter height. After resisting the overwhelming urge to take a sledge hammer to the piece, I figured out how to rework the base to get it closer to counter height. It’ll still be higher than 36″, but just by a little bit.

I didn’t get a chance to work on it again until Wednesday. Over the next few evenings, I assembled the cabinet doors, finished the framing and installed the shelving:

I ended up working on this thing all day Saturday as well. In order to give the table-top depth, I added a 1″ x 3″ frame beneath the Aspen butcher board. They didn’t fit exactly right, so I had to sand them until my wrist almost fell off. Eventually, I got the seam smooth and even. My wife suggested that we add another shelf inside the island to hold smaller pots and pans, so I made one out of some scrap oak plywood.

Once the body of the piece was largely assembled, I dry-fitted everything. I must admit I wasn’t completely surprised that my doors didn’t nest very well. I’ve never been good at making doors. In the past, this would have been disastrous, as I undoubtedly would have messed up the edges even worse by trying to trim everything freehand with a circular saw. But now that I have my table saw, I can just adjust the blade to shave 1/8″ off the sides and bottoms. I also decided that I wanted towel racks on either side of the piece to make it more functional. The idea was to cut the dowel mounts out of red oak and use aspen for the rod, thereby maintaining the two-tone effect. It took me a long time, but I eventually cut out four mounting pieces with perfectly round edges:

Here’s what it looked like with the aspen dowel inserted:

Sadly, I had to scrap this idea. Literally. Since I don’t have a drill press, I can’t get the holes exactly plum. That means the rod isn’t square, and the piece won’t sit right against the island. So I put the towel racks in the kindling pile for when winter rolls around.

I wanted to get some stain on it so it could dry overnight. I stained the inside first, and then worked my way to the outside. While the body of the island was drying, I stained the faux butcher block piece. I hung the cabinet doors and used a box fan to speed up the drying process: (pardon the mess)

Late Saturday night, I installed 2″ wheels so we can roll the island around the kitchen. I remembered to brand it:

I got out to the garage really early on Sunday to finish the kitchen island. I was also smoking a pork shoulder, so I had to get the grill fired up anyway. I used liquid nails to glue the table-top to the island body, and I cut out and spray-painted the sheet metal that will decorate the cabinet doors:

Once the paint dried, I weighed them down in the routed channel and used clear-drying caulk to set them in place. While the caulk dried, I put a clear coat on the entire island. I only used one coat on the body, since I didn’t want it to shine too much, but I put about seven thin coats on the table-top. To get the right texture and protective properties, you have to apply a clear coat, let it dry, gently sand it with 220 grit (or higher) sandpaper, wipe off the dust, and repeat the process over and over again.

I ordered some oil-rubbed bronze hinges online and installed a flip-down down door to hide our cast iron pans (the original non-stick cookware) that are too heavy to hang from the pot rack. It holds all of our large and small pots, as well as the blender and mixer. That freed up a lot of cabinet space.

It looks great with the pot rack, doesn’t it? As you can see, it’s only 1/2″ higher than the rest of the counter tops:

You can’t even tell it’s on wheels. This might be my favorite piece of furniture so far. Except for my bar, of course.

The space between the upper cabinets is about 30 inches. Since our knife magnet is only 18 inches long, we ordered another 12 inch magnet from Magnagrip and got to work.

The wood color doesn’t match anything in our kitchen, so I sanded it down and applied some stain:

I used a mixture of Red Mahogany, Red Sedona and Jacobean to get the right tint to match our cabinets, but the wood just wouldn’t absorb the darker stain. After a while, I decided I could live with the color, even though it’s a lighter hue than what I was going for. I held my four foot level beneath the upper cabinets, set the knife magnets on it, and then marked the screw holes. We have plaster board in this old house, so I had to insert plastic anchors. You’d be amazed at how much force it takes to get the butcher knife off the magnet. If it’s not attached to the wall properly, you’ll accidentally pull it out.

Here’s the result:

We think it looks pretty good. Only time will tell if the knives hold up well to the steam and splatters.

I already had these decorative L-brackets that match our aged bronze hardware, and I was determined to work them into the design:

I think my mother bought these at a garage sale and gave them to me as a Christmas gift. They’re wrought iron and a little rusty, which I think makes them look better now than when they were new. If you’re planning to make something similar, I highly recommend buying brackets with some character. Amazon has a nice selection, and they’re not as expensive as you might expect.

I bought some oak at the hardware store and this ‘Union Jack’ style sheet metal for the backing:

I cut the sheet metal with some snips and spray painted it with a faux-metal color that matches the L-brackets. Next, I cut all the pieces to size and glued the joints before inserting screws:

Once the piece was sturdy, I routed out a channel for the sheet metal backing and used clear-drying caulk to hold the sheet metal in place. That was on Thursday, and I couldn’t get back to this project until Sunday. Since I had a lot to get done, I threw myself back into this project at dawn.

One problem with intricate pieces like this is that you have to put it together in just the right order. This has to be glued before that can be screwed, and that has to be stained before those things can be added. For this project, the dowels and under-mount bracing had to be stained first:

When staining different parts of the same piece at different times, you have to be very careful not to get any excess on the virgin side or it’ll look dark and smudgy when you finish the entire piece. Here’s a view of the under-side of the pot rack, which had to be stained before all the pieces could be attached:

That color looks great, right? I wanted it to be similar to the finish on our cherry cabinets, but I went with a Red Mahogany stain instead. Finally I attached the rest of the pieces and stained the whole thing. They say you’re supposed to let it dry for about eight hours before putting on a clear-coat. I was determined to get it in the kitchen last night, so I sped up the drying process:

I remembered to brand it:

I bought some copper pot rack hooks online last week. They help tie in the pot rack with the rest of the hardware in the kitchen. Here’s how it all looks:

Now we just need to make a matching island on wheels to rest beneath it.

This was actually a very easy build. The only problems I ran into resulted from my miter saw not being properly calibrated. The angles aren’t perfect, but they’re good enough for me.

I might try staining more of the pieces I build. I’ve been using paint as a crutch for a long time. Painting means I can rely on wood filler to cover over all of my screw holes and mistakes, but this project inspired some confidence that I might be getting better at doing it right the first time. Also, I’ve discovered that paying more for good wood and using a dark stain makes all the difference in the world. There’s a fine line between good-looking homemade furniture and cheap-looking thrift store furniture, and that line is money. If you start with good materials, then you’re halfway to a good result.

UPDATE: Click here to see the homemade Kitchen Island. And click here to see how the Pot Rack & Island look in the finished kitchen.

I made it in such a hurry that I forgot to take pictures of it during construction.

I bought a couple of pieces of molding from the hardware store for the facing and then built a 1.5″ deep frame to hold the glass above the raised magazine covers.

We cut all the Hill Rag covers to the same size, used double-sided tape to adhere them to foam board, and then glued the foam board to a piece of stained oak paneling. I wanted the piece to have a ‘coffee and cream’ look (similar to our old corner cabinet) so it would blend in with our leather furniture and our honey oak floors.

I wanted the color of the artwork to really stand out from the dark backboard. Everyone uses monotone matting with a sunken focal point to give depth to a picture frame. I wanted to do the opposite, and I think we got the effect we were going for.

This angle lets you see the cover art a little better. Notice how the colors seem to jump off the oak:

The top row, from left to right, depicts:

• Eastern Market
• The Capitol at Christmas
• Alfresco Dining on 8th Street (Montmartre?)

The bottom row, from left to right, depicts:

• Baltimore Harbor
• The DC Skyline
• A Snow Day on the Hill

I still have a few dozen covers, so maybe we’ll make a sister piece when we move to a larger house.