With our Book Club series, we hand over the proverbial mic to our Experts—letting them share their work, thought process, and best tips, all in their own words. The following is an excerpt from Steve Cordony’s new book, Moments at Home, published this year with Hardie Grant.

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The kitchen for me is about nurturing and nourishment.

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Not just because it is where I love to cook food for the ones I love, but these are also the emotions that determine how I decorate and style the space. While functionality is at the core of a kitchen’s design, it is just as important that it also feels like a comfortable, convivial place where people can gather together and lively chats can unfold.

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I go into a meditative state when I'm cooking, and there's something grounding and earthy about being on the land at Rosedale, where I can go out into the garden to pick fresh produce for dinner. So when it came to designing and styling our kitchen on the farm, I purposely brought in the same down-to-earth, visually nourishing colors, textures, and materials that reflect nature’s presence outside because it is important to me that the kitchen feels as good as it functions.

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“While functionality is at the core of a kitchen’s design, it’s important that it also feels like a comfortable, convivial place where people can gather.” —Steve Cordony

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We spend a lot of time in our kitchens, so it makes such a difference to fill them with the things that keep us inspired and make our hearts happy. I bring in all the same elements I would use in a bedroom, living room, or hallway space. I have art on the shelves, whether resting against the wall on the bench or hung on a wall, and sculptures sit on the countertops. I collect vessels with great charisma, like a Chinese tofu pot in which I keep my utensils; I cover tops of stools in soft finishes like smooth leather or slubby bouclé; and I fill huge turned wooden bowls with an abundance of ripe fruit, eggs, or piles of freshly picked vegetables.

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I love sourcing vintage chopping boards from places like Italy and Turkey because I've always been drawn to the idea of how they were once used to present food many years ago. I’m drawn to beautiful antique silver pieces like toast racks, egg cups, and cake stands to lend an element of classicism. I also love beautiful, handmade, utilitarian pieces that conjure the very basic notion of how the kitchen has functioned over the centuries—it might be an earthenware pitcher or a hand painted platter that can be given a new lease of life, feeding into my love for the constant push and pull of marrying old and new.

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Bringing in greenery from the garden also imbues an element of drama, as well as height, into a kitchen. I use the branches we’ve had to prune back from trees and shrubs around the farm, so it’s not only good for the environment, but a wonderful way to bring the outside in. Or it might be something as effortless as a vase of graphic palm fronds—so simple, like big friendly waving hands—which, contrasting with a kitchen floor made of green checkerboard marble, instantly brings the space together in a verdantly light and relaxed way. It speaks to our very basic human need to be as close to nature as possible.

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The starting elements in our kitchen were the Ralph Lauren pendant (because I knew I wanted that punch of brass), the Chevron reclaimed French oak floor, and the Arabescato Vagli marble countertops. Against this, we chose the restraint of a Shaker style cabinetry in a dark steel blue and the same glint of brass for the plumbing fixtures. Together, these elements helped build the story of how I wanted it to feel—a little bit European country meets Australian outback.

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I know the marble is going to mark, the floors are going to scratch, and the brass is going to age over time, but I always lean towards having materials that are alive and natural because there is always an element of tactility that gets lost in very glossy, high-tech materials. I like kitchens to feel alive, where personality and panache can shine through, while always feeling like it is in forward motion.

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Even a collection of very utilitarian vessels, like tableware, glasses, and bowls, can become their own form of visual art. Don’t feel you have to put everything behind cupboard doors—having it out on display encourages you to use it every day. Even when I'm plating up for dinner with Mike, I'll choose handcrafted glasses and plates by Rina Menardi. I feel like that's what the kitchen should be all about: a very humble but tactile presentation of lovingly prepared food that brings everyone in.

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A quirky, unexpected pendant light hanging over a kitchen island or breakfast bar, a sofa for guests or kids to hang out on while you cook, the presence of books and handmade ceramics, stools with intricately turned legs, or a delicate still life in a gilt frame are all elements that shouldn't really go into a kitchen because it’s function is for cooking, but they all help tell a story about how we live in a space that need no longer be governed by the traditions of its historically primal past.

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Order Steve’s new book for more inspiration, or book a consultation with him to get personalized advice for your space.

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