According to Wikipedia a hoosier cabinet was originally designed to create storage space in kitchens without built in cabinetry, a commonality among early 20th century houses. Hoosier cabinets served as storage for staples and kitchenware, as well as extra counter space. The name Hoosier is derived from the company that originally manufactured them. Although other manufacturers copied the design, the name Hoosier became synonymous with the design much like Band-Aid is the common term for adhesive bandages.

Its interesting that both Caren and my mom separately, yet simultaneously, suggested the hoosier cabinet as being the perfect piece for our kitchen. The period, the 1890s thru the early 1920s, fit our design perfectly so Caren began an exhaustive search on Craigslist for the perfect piece.

Hoosiers are pretty common in antique stores and there were many to be had on Craigslist, but we needed one that was particularly narrow to fit our space. Most hoosiers are 45 to 48 inches wide. we had about 40 inches of wall space. Eventually, Caren found one that met our demands in Half Moon Bay. We spent a foggy Monday evening driving there to check it out.

According to the seller, the piece we purchased was manufactured in England in the late 1890s by the Hygena Company and brought to the US shortly thereafter. It was well taken care of by a sole owner for most of its life before it was purchased at an estate sale by the seller. We were fortunate to find a cabinet with nearly all of the original accoutrements. It was slightly dirty though.

This past week, Caren finally found the time to give a little love to the cabinet and turn it into a real beautiful addition to our 1920s era kitchen...


Our hoosier consists of three pieces: the top with its typical roll-down door and four cabinets, the bottom with four drawers and a large cabinet, and the slide-out enamel counter surface.

All of the hardware is bronze that has developed a really cool patina on it. The circles on the left and right upper cabinets and the lower cabinet are actually vents that open and close to allow baked goods to cool while being protected from flies and mice.

Every hinge, latch, and vent operates--a testament to how well made the piece is and how well taken care of it has been for the last hundred or so years.

The bottom of the entire lower cabinet is lined with tin to keep out the pests. There is a sliding shelf with a cutting board attached to the bottom of it. Caren cleaned the cutting board up and waxed it using a beeswax product, and we actually used it to carve our Thanksgiving turkey breast.

The drawer above the cabinet sits slightly crooked on its slides. I thought that maybe one of the slides had shifted over the years, but upon inspection I realized that the drawer had been open and closed so many times over the years that the wooden slide had worn down enough to make the drawer sit crooked. I can easily repair it, but am hesitant to do so because the wear adds so much character.
     

Check out the design of the upper cabinet... it is a model of space saving efficiency. The upper left door holds two clamps that were meant to hold a recipe. Below the clamps are two metal hoops that originally held salt and pepper shakers. Unfortunately we don't have the shakers. The right hand door holds a spice rack and a pocket for more recipes. I've added close-ups of the lower left door, the center door, and the roll-down cabinet because each is so cool...

The lower left hand cabinet houses a flour hopper complete with a glass window and built in sifter. It also holds two egg shelves. I wondered about eggs being stored in a cabinet rather than the refrigerator, then realized that during the era when hoosiers were popular refrigeration was a very new technology and not common at all. Eggs were gathered daily and used quickly before they could spoil.

We are fortunate that we found a piece with most of its jars still intact. The roll-down cabinet contains four large jars that do not have lids and five smaller ones with aluminum lids. The five large jars were not supposed to have lids. Instead, the shelf above them was spring loaded and felt lined. The springs push the shelf down onto the tops of the jar and the felt seals them. It is an interesting concept, but lids might have made things a little easier. 

Finally, the center cabinet door holds a shopping list. Each of the little red tabs flips over to become yellow and remind one of a staple that needs to be purchased. Staples at the beginning of the 20th century differed greatly from what we consider staples now. On the list are items like candles, coal, firewood, and stationary. Dad will be happy to know that prunes made the list of staples in the 1890s much like they make his list of must-haves today.

When we purchased the piece, one of the little red tabs was missing. As luck would have it, when I removed the metal tray below the list so that Caren could clean and paint it, we found the tab wedged between it and the door. I wonder how long it had been hidden away down there, presumed lost...

As I said above, Caren spent many hours restoring this piece to its original beauty. She stripped most of what remained of the old paint from the metal pieces before repainting them, she scrubbed the interior and applied three fresh coats of antique white paint, and she applied Restore-a-Finish to the exterior, a product that hides scratches and fade marks, before waxing the entire piece. She complained bitterly about the amount of work she was putting into it, but I think she is pretty happy with the results. I know I am.