Getting out of the Kitchen

Caterer Bill Homan makes a living wowing people with great food and elaborate tabletop displays. But in his own house, he'd rather keep it simple

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Getting Out of the Kitchen
Caterer Bill Homan makes a living wowing people with great food and elaborate tabletop displays. But in his own house, he'd rather keep it simple.

As a co-owner of Design Cuisine, one of Washington's leading catering companies, Bill Homan has spent 25 years creating luscious menus and eye-candy table settings for everything from intimate Georgetown dinners to hundreds-deep museum galas.

At work, his staff numbers 250. But back home at his Spanish Colonial rowhouse in Kalorama, Homan prefers the simple life. When he entertains, ease and comfort are key. Instead of imported-olive bars and ginger-raspberry margaritas, visitors might be served something elegant but uncomplicated, such as a dinner of grilled fish, along with vegetables picked up at the Dupont Circle farmers market, and a nice bottle of wine.

Homan, 59, bought his distinctive five-story 1901 house six years ago, charmed by its European style and central location. At the time, he knew he'd have to get some work done on it to make it his own. Its interior Victorian details were dated, and its infrastructure needed an upgrade. Aside from those necessary changes, Homan also wanted his home "to be unique."

"I didn't want anything fussy," he says, "but I wanted the house to reflect my personality."

To that end, Homan hired Ankie Barnes and Melanie Giordano, of local firm Barnes Vanze Architects Inc., and interior designers Jose Solis Betancourt and Paul Sherrill, of Solis Betancourt.

The architects and designers worked together to maximize light and bring the Mediterranean feel of the house's stucco exterior to its inside. (They decided they'd use taupe Marmorino-finish plaster and furnish the rooms sparely, but with lots of textures, in neutral colors.)

The kitchen was, of course, a major focus -- and a major challenge.

"Everything behind the wall of the dining room was a mess," says Barnes. "It was a rabbit warren of smaller rooms, and the kitchen was marooned in darkness." Barnes opened the space and added light with a wall of windows looking onto the garden.

Homan had told his design team that he didn't want a conventional stainless steel-filled trophy kitchen with the appliances front and center.

"We thought he would want the big hulking Viking stove that costs more than a car that's so popular these days," says Sherrill. "Many people who don't even cook buy them. But Bill had other ideas."

So Barnes ran the kitchen itself along a single wall, giving it a "now-you-see-it, now-you-don't" aspect. The long limestone counter, with bleached-and-limed oak cabinets below and bun feet to make the whole thing look like a piece of furniture, minimizes a Dacor cooktop and Bosch dishwasher. For larger parties, Homan might cover the stovetop for extra counter space and have Design Cuisine provide the food. The Sub-Zero fridge is virtually invisible behind an overlay of wood panels glazed taupe.

Alongside the cooking area, but divided from it by a narrow, 12-foot-long antique walnut refectory table, is a sitting area furnished with an oatmeal-colored settee, antique Spanish trunk coffee table and armchairs.

"It's very sophisticated on his part not to make a big statement, and very discreet," says Sherrill. "It's not like his seat of power is the kitchen."

On a recent early morning, the 6,000-square-foot house is dark, cool and tranquil. Aromatic candles (Teak by Votivo) are lit. The sound of tribal drums resonates from the sound system. A guest is led from the entrance-level foyer -- which contains a concealed door leading to an exercise space and laundry room -- up the central staircase to the main floor. To the right is the living room, with beamed ceilings and a rustic stone fireplace. To the left, the bare wood floors of the combination dining room and library lead into the kitchen, where breakfast is laid out.

Although Homan usually catches his coffee at a diner down the street, this morning he forgoes his routine. On the kitchen table there is fruit, a basket of bite-size muffins and rugelach, and coffee from an antique English Sheraton silver pot that belonged to his great-grandmother.

Upstairs, the second floor holds a large master bedroom and study, and the third floor holds three bedrooms. At the very tippy top is a playroom for Homan's grandchildren.

Because of how open the house is, it's perfect for entertaining large or small groups. But often, it's the impromptu informal gatherings that Homan looks forward to. "My house is a great stopover place pre-something else," says Homan. "My two daughters like to come over with their friends just for drinks and nibbles, and then we go out."

Jura Koncius is a staff writer for The Post's Home section.