I was going to restart the project of upcycling the cabinet doors after taking a break for summer. But before I tackled my biggest upcycling project, the kitchen, I needed to do some investigative work.
I still was chasing the Holy Grail of muted grain finish. I went to three big box stores, a paint store and woodworking store to see if they could help. Besides being exasperated trying to explain my dilemma, I was discouraged that no one had an answer.
I researched the Internet once again. I found a few suggestions and I decided I would find my own solution.
First, I bought brown dye from a woodworking store. I added it to the polyurethane and tested it on some red oak scraps. Nope, that did not work. I then purchased wood reconditoner. I tried that option. Nope, that also did not work. I needed professional help. Not for my mental state, but for my muted grain finish. I would find a painter.
Painters must run into this issue. They have to match paint and stain colors all the time. So, I emailed a couple of painters and I found one that was willing to stop by my house to help.
Several days later the painter stopped by to look at my present and new cabinet doors. I asked him the question that I still have not found a solution. How can I mute the grain of red oak? I showed him the present doors in the kitchen and then the new doors in the laundry room. I passionately explained my desire to get the same look as the present doors. “Look,” I said, “See how the grain does not show on these cabinet doors, and how prominent the grain is on those doors?
He literally scratched is head and look closely at the laundry cabinet doors. He showed me a small part of the cabinet frame and explained that maybe there was stain in the varnish that was used. As he tried to chip away the finish with his fingernail, it appeared he was confident that he was right. He then paused and asked, “Did you make these doors?” I replied that I did, and he said, “Nice job, these are really nice.” At that point, nothing mattered. For a just-okay DIYer, a comment like that had me beaming with pride. This guy, a professional painter, who has seen many cabinet doors, good and bad, just told me I did a nice job. I was having my Zen moment.
He then took out of his pocket what looked like a jeweler’s magnifying glass, put it on the cabinet frame and pulled out his phone. The device was a color sensor that he could identify the color of stain I would need. He found a match. He indicated that he could get the stain for me or I could get it myself. I told him I wanted to give him something for his time, but when he indicated it would be $100 for the service, somehow, $100 seemed too much. He gave me the impression that he was just happy to help me. He gave me a name of a paint match technician at the paint store he uses and told me he should be able to help me out. As he was ready to leave, we talked about a few things and I thanked him for his time.
About a week later, I called the paint store to make sure Jimmie was available before I stopped there. With samples of the old and new cabinet doors, I went to the paint store. Once at the store, I asked for Jimmie. The store clerk indicated he was busy taking care of another customer. I waited about 20 minutes before he could help me. Again, I asked him the question, “How can I mute the grain of red oak? He had a puzzled look on his face as I tried to explain what I was aiming to achieve. He gave a few reasons why he could not help me with this question. “Aged discoloring of the finish” and “You can’t get that finish anymore,” were a couple reasons. I ordered the stain and Jimmie indicated that he had five other orders for custom stain before he could get to my order. I told him, “No hurry, I had time” and I went on my way.
On my way home, I was dissatisfied with Jimmie’s answer. At home I expressed my frustration with my wife, Efiwym. She seemed disinterested in my concerns, so on my own, I just mused about it.
In about 10 days, I received a phone call that the stain was ready. I went to pick it up. I had my stain but no Holy Grail.