Dutch Treat

When Phil was 4, 11, and 18 years old, he and his family lived in the Netherlands while his father researched English Puritans in Holland, and their ties to the country remain strong. The aspect of Dutch culture that has made its strongest impression on me from family lore is the no-nonsense approach. If any of my accounts that follow seem exaggerated, chalk it up to my American, plenty-of-nonsense outlook.

Though family sources deny it, Phil believes he was spanked on the first day of Dutch kindergarten because he was “carrying on” and crying about not speaking the language.

When we were in the Netherlands for Phil’s sister’s wedding, our Dutch Moroccan brother-in-law, Rachid, explained that you can have meat on a sandwich, or you can have cheese, but not both. That’s excessive.

At Christmas time, Mary makes wonderfully delicate little Dutch ginger butter cookies that she learned to enjoy during her time there. She has regaled us with tales of the serving method, when hosting somebody for coffee. The hostess comes around with a lidded tin of cookies. You take one, and the lid is snapped shut. (The greater the age of the hostess, the quicker the snap of the lid.)

Sometimes, feeling nostalgic for Dutch delicacies, Mary and Phil go in on an order from a small, family-run Dutch import store. Before the company had their operation on-line, Phil would place the yearly order by phone. The matriarch always took the order, but not without getting in a few jabs. “I suppose you want this by Christmas? Why didn’t you order sooner?”

This year, he placed the order on-line in plenty of time, but instead of delivering the seven ordered boxes of Brinta (a hot cereal mix for the chewing impaired), they allowed us four because their supplies were running low. They had seven, just not for us.

Our order also included peanut sauce (Indonesian satay is very popular in Holland) and a log of puff pastry with almond paste filling, both of which we used in our “Dutch” dinner this week. Phil grilled chicken to be bathed in the warm peanut sauce while Ben peeled carrots. Ben is a very thorough carrot peeler, as you can see. The wispy remains were roasted to a deep char. Phil claimed he likes them that way and that it was intentional.

Ben loved the chicken satay, tolerated the carrots, and had thinly veiled scorn for the almond paste log. The last one surprised me. What’s not to love? Maybe he is just trying to put some distance between himself and Dutch Christmas traditions. 

The Dutch Santa, Sinterklaas, has a controversial associate who apparently stuffs naughty kids in a sack and hauls them off to Spain. Would we expect anything less from this no-nonsense culture? Come to think of it, that’s probably why Phil was crying in Dutch kindergarten! (If his Dutch wasn’t up to snuff, imagine his terror at the prospect of surviving the sack ride to Spain, only to have to pick up a third language at the age of four!)

Knowing Ben would want nothing to do with cookies containing crystallized ginger, I made Mary’s Dutch Ginger Butter Cookies without his assistance. I could have used somebody’s assistance. My room temperature butter was too cold (because our room temperature is a brisk 60º or so in the kitchen) and my dough didn’t come together. I threw in an egg and the end result was delicious, soft, and chewy, but not like Mary’s crisp shortbread cookies. Oh well. Stop by for a cup of coffee, and I promise to leave the cookie tin open long enough for you to help yourself to a second!

Mary’s Dutch Ginger Butter Cookies

(Originally from Gourmet magazine)

1 stick (1/2 cup) butter (room temperature – just not our room)

1/3 cup light brown sugar

1 cup plus 3 tablespoons flour

1/3 cup finely chopped crystallized ginger

1. Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy.
2. Add the flour and beat until well combined, adding ginger toward the end.
3. Shape dough into a 10-inch log and wrap loosely in waxed paper. Chill for 30 minutes.
4. Slice the dough into 1/4 inch thick rounds; arrange on lightly greased cookie sheets.
5. Bake 10-15 minutes until golden (watch carefully) at 350º.