Spain's Kitchen-Free Housing Debate: Efficiency or Loss of Home?

What if future apartments had no kitchens?

The idea of building apartments without kitchens has ignited a debate about the housing model emerging in major cities. The proposal, attributed to businessman Juan Roig for one- or two-person accommodations, clashes with demographic reality: single-person households are increasing, and full kitchens are used less. The issue goes beyond bricks and mortar; it touches the very definition of what constitutes a home.

Origin of the controversy: Roig and kitchen-free apartments

The controversy stems from statements attributed to Juan Roig, president of Mercadona, suggesting that small apartments do not need a full kitchen. Reactions were swift: some sectors accused him of imposing a precarious lifestyle, while others saw the idea as a rational solution for city centers. The discussion has become a thermometer of the tension between economic efficiency and quality of life.

The trigger was information published by El País attributing to Roig the proposal to eliminate kitchens in apartments for one or two people. The news generated a flood of reactions: from those accusing the businessman of turning homes into mere pass-through spaces, to those recalling that in Asia, small apartments commonly have only an office with a microwave and a small burner. The underlying question is whether Spain is willing to give up a space that has historically been the heart of the house.

What do regulations say about kitchen-free housing?

In Spain, according to a participant in the debate, regional and municipal regulations require every dwelling to have a kitchen or, at least, a space designated for food preparation. Homes cannot be built without a kitchen, but office-style solutions are permitted. The key lies in interpreting what constitutes a kitchen: from a space with a sink, stove, and hood to a simple corner with a microwave and portable hob. Legislation does not prohibit small apartments but mandates they have minimally equipped cooking space.

Roig's proposal would therefore be illegal in its most extreme form, but legal in intermediate formats. What is at stake is not just legality, but the urban model: if minimal housing for singles and couples is promoted, city centers fill with units that do not compete with family apartments. This, in turn, pressures families to move to the periphery.

The economic argument: saving space and costs

Proponents of eliminating the full kitchen argue that useful space is gained and construction costs reduced. In cities where square meter prices are sky-high, dispensing with 8 or 10 meters of kitchen can miccionan significant savings. Additionally, the rise of food delivery and subscription services makes cooking a residual activity for many young people and singles.

The calculation is simple: if a person eats out or orders delivery five days a week, the kitchen becomes an underutilized space. In Asia, especially in cities like Singapore, eating at street stalls is cheaper than cooking at home, according to a participant. Importing this model to Spain would clash with a culture where the kitchen is the center of family life. But demographic data is stubborn: the number of single-person households continues to grow, and childless couples are already a majority segment in large city centers.

The counterargument: no kitchen, no home

Opposition to the idea is visceral across broad sectors. It is argued that a house without a kitchen is not a home, but a hotel room. The word "home" derives from "hearth," and the hearth was in the kitchen. Eliminating that space is, for many, stripping the dwelling of its socializing function and autonomy. Cooking is not just feeding oneself: it is an economic, cultural, and subsistence activity.

Those rejecting the model recall that during crises, having a pantry and knowing how to cook made the difference between hunger and survival. The pandemic made clear that relying exclusively on food delivery is a risk. Furthermore, they note that such housing already exists in central Madrid and other capitals, and few endure living there long-term. They are seen as temporary rentals, not definitive residences.

The Asian model: transferable to Spain?

In many Asian cities, small apartments lack full kitchens. Street food and restaurants fulfill that function. But that model responds to extreme urban density and a different gastronomic culture. In Spain, the ban on street food carts and the lower supply of affordable dining make direct transplantation difficult.

Moreover, climate and schedules play a role: in Spain, dinner is late and at home, whereas in Asia, eating out at any hour is more common. The comparison, therefore, is flawed. What works in Singapore or Tokyo may not work in Madrid or Barcelona. The question is whether the Spanish market is willing to accept a product that breaks decades of residential tradition.

Demographic future: more singles, fewer kitchens

The inversion of the population pyramid suggests that the majority segment will be single persons or childless couples, according to a participant. In 25 years, this profile will dominate city centers. For them, a full kitchen may be an unnecessary luxury. The market is already responding with minimal apartments, and technology (air fryers, slow cookers, microwaves) allows basic cooking without large installations.

However, the debate is not just economic. It is cultural. The kitchen has been the last bastion of food sovereignty. Giving it up means giving up deciding what you eat and how you eat it. And that, for many, is priceless. The discussion remains open: is it the end of the home as we knew it, or an inevitable adaptation to the new demographic reality?