Littleton Outdoor Kitchen Bases

Count the trips. Platter of raw chicken out, tongs you forgot, ice, somebody's phone, the bag of buns nobody grabbed, then everything back in again. An outdoor kitchen isn't a destination, it's a second workstation connected to the first one by a path you'll walk more times in one evening than you'd guess.

That path, and the six feet of ground where the cook actually stands, take the real abuse. Grease lands there. Cold beer sweats onto it. Bare wet feet cross it in July and boots cross it in November. Designers draw the veneer and the countertop. We build the part that has to survive being used, and from the older yards around Columbine to the newer builds in Highland Walk that means a lot of sun, a hard freeze, and a grill going in February.

Watch how the space gets used before pouring anything

Every outdoor kitchen has a hot corner, and it's rarely where the plan says it should be. Watch a few gatherings at a friend's place and you'll notice everyone bunches at the same end, usually where the drinks are, usually blocking the cook. We'd rather find that out on paper.

So we ask the boring questions. Which door do you carry food through, and does it swing over the slab? Where does the smoke go with the afternoon wind coming down the slope on the Ken Caryl side of town? Is the seating side going to be on the sunny half at six o'clock in July, because if it is, nobody will sit there. Where does the trash live, and will somebody be rolling a bin across new concrete every week.

All of that changes what we pour and where the joints go. A control joint running straight through the spot where four people stand is a joint that will collect grease and grit for a decade. Move the layout, not the joint.

Where you stand, what spills there, and what goes in the ground

What goes in the ground before the mason arrives

• Footings excavated below frost depth under every run of masonry, not just the corners
• Steel tied from the footings into the slab so the two act together
• Gas, electrical, and water sleeves set and marked before concrete goes in
• Slab thickened where the island lands and where the counter overhangs
• Fall set away from the house across the whole surface, checked with a level and not by eye
• Cutouts and appliance openings dimensioned off the actual equipment spec sheets
• Finish varied by zone: texture where feet go, tighter surface where it gets wiped down

Getting it through a Littleton year

Sun does the first damage and nobody expects it. At this elevation, ultraviolet light works on sealers hard, and a decorative surface that looked rich in June goes chalky in a couple of seasons if it's never recoated. Plan on resealing every two to three years and the surface holds its color instead of fading in patches.

Winter does the rest. The area right in front of the grill is where the snow gets stomped down and refrozen all season, and if the concrete there is smooth troweled it will be a skating rink. We texture it. Deicing chemicals stay off, permanently around masonry, since salt wicks up into stone and mortar and blows the faces off veneer over a few winters. Sand and a plastic shovel is the whole winter kit.

Timing is straightforward. Get the concrete in from spring through early fall so the mason can start on cured work and finish before the weather turns. Fall pours happen and they're fine, but they compress everyone's schedule. If the kitchen matters for next summer, we'd rather be pouring your base in April than in September.