When I started The Dutch Table in 2009, my dream was to create a living repository of recipes, filled with the stories behind our dishes, our food traditions, and our history. I wanted a place to preserve the flavors and memories that shaped us, something to reach for when memory might one day fade. Many years later, I feel grateful that this vision has taken root. Thousands of people visit the website, try the recipes, read the stories, and sometimes share their own. Our community isn’t just Dutch readers; it’s children and grandchildren of Dutch immigrants, people married into Dutch families, and those who simply fell in love with our food somewhere along the way.
Not long after I started the site, the emails began to arrive: requests for help in finding recipes that existed only in memory: “My grandmother used to make something like this…” or “My dad talked about this dish, but I don’t remember the name…” Sometimes we’d start with just a single detail. Over the years, I’ve gathered a small library: cookbooks, housekeeping guides, gardening books, folklore, preservation manuals, paired with countless hours of digging through newspapers, ads, journals, handwritten notes, anything that might hold a clue. The joy of rediscovering a dish that someone feared was lost forever has been worth every moment. Because it’s never just about food, is it? It’s about memory, identity, and the people we love.
As a small business owner, my content is not only my livelihood but also a part of my personal creative expression. Having it freely printable makes it challenging to manage and protect my work. More importantly, I believe in the charm and tradition of handwritten recipes. There's something special about a recipe that's been copied down by hand, perhaps with personal notes and adaptations, and then passed on. It's a way of making each recipe your own and creating a legacy that can be handed down through generations.
A handwritten recipe becomes part of you. Your notes, your substitutions, the date scribbled in the corner, the oil stain from when you were rushing around the kitchen: it all turns into a tiny piece of family history. Those pages become treasured in a way that printed sheets rarely do.
To be clear: you can print the recipes. A simple right-click, “print,” choose your pages, and boom! -they’re yours. But I want to gently encourage you to try something different: take the time to copy down the recipes you love by hand. Perhaps in a notebook or scrapbook, or even on recipe cards. Add notes about when you served it, who loved it, what it reminded you of. Doodle in the margins. Let it get a little messy. Keep it close at hand in the kitchen. An online recipe is easy to find, but a handwritten one carries your memories, and that is what makes it priceless.
I hope this helps explain my perspective. And I hope you’ll continue cooking, reading, remembering, and keeping our culinary heritage alive: one recipe, and one story, at a time.
Thank you for keeping our culinary heritage and traditions alive, and for your support always.
Nicole
