Dutch Remembrances

Being in western New York (hereafter in this blog referred to as WNY) late last week for my grandmother's funeral brought back some memories. That half of my family is of Dutch heritage and there are a few things from the old farm house of which I hold strong memories from my youth. We would often visit over the Easter holiday, Thanksgiving and especially in my teenage years, during summer to help with the hay. Emigrating to the USA in the mid-'50s, my grandparents held fast to some practices, products and keepsakes which I will share here.

● Dutch windmill cookies. These were often in the old Dutch boy and girl ceramic cookie jars on the counter --- white and with crackled glazing. There are various other brands, and most are good enough, but the Voortmans were always held in highest esteem, when or wherever you may find them. But I also wouldn't want to be accused of being a windmill cookie snob. Then, there is the question of almonds or no, and I would say this is a matter of personal preference. We would usually have some of these along with tea.

● Four o'clock tea was a ritual at the farm. I suppose it comes from the close colonial connection that the Dutch share this tradition with the English. We, however, kept it simple with Lipton decaffeinated. Nothing too complex as with Earl Greys, breakfast teas or with various flavorings. My grandmother kept a kettle in an old tea cozy that was a bit discolored and had a burn mark at the bottom. We keep to this tradition of 4 o'clock tea at our house, though more so in the past few years than before. I guess it's just nice to think on the fact that many other people across the world are doing the same thing you are, at the same time. It's a nice link across humanity. I like my tea steeped for a while so there is a strong flavor, and I take 2-3 teaspoons of sugar. Used to add milk, though I don't do that anymore, as I read that it chemically negates the beneficial properties of the tea.

No copyright. Image courtesy: 1stgalleryart.com

● In what was the farmhouse's living room, where we used to sleep during our stays on the pull-out sleeper sofa, behind us on the wall was Johan Barthold Jongkind's "Winter Scene, 1846." It featured some Dutch skaters on a frozen river, a dilapidated barn, barren trees, and a man walking along the riverbank. This is probably the strongest association I have with being at the farm (besides the smell in the entry room that was like a slap in the face to those not habituated to a concentrated manure odor). The link above is to a company that does hand-painted copies of many paintings by many painters. I'll probably order one someday when I have the money.

● Lastly, there were two pillows that my grandparents brought with them from Holland. They are filled with goose-down and are quite similar in heft and hardness to a sack of cement. If you fell asleep with your hand or arm under them, you would lose all feeling in the appendage. Every one of my relatives hated them, everyone except me. Several years ago, my parents brought one home for me (I assume they got permission to take it... but it's not like anyone would complain). I don't know what it is, but I cannot stand soft pillows. Had tried many kinds that were labeled "extra firm" and one called "The Rock" and none could come close to the farm pillow. At the corners, some of the down feathers would poke out, and no matter how much you pulled them out, more would follow. The outside is a kind of smooth canvas material, striped lines of mostly orange, with yellow and brown, along with multiple stains of questionable provenance. Last fall, I got an allergen pillow cover, which conceals the appearance and helps keep the down in.

And so, that is a small list of some of my remembrances. It's interesting to reflect on the memories we associate with a certain place and how mementos, experiences and passed-down traditions can shape parts of our lives.