Krieltjes met Kruidenboter

The first potatoes of summer never arrived in my grandmother's kitchen with ceremony. They came in a paper bag, still dusty, small enough to fit three in a child's palm, and she treated them with the respect usually wasted on grander ingredients. No peeling. No carving. Just water, salt, butter, and herbs cut with scissors over the bowl.

The name already tells you the method, if you listen. Krieltjes are the little ones, from kriel, the Dutch word for something small or undersized, and the diminutive -tje makes them smaller still, almost affectionate. But let me tell you a secret: these are not failed potatoes. They are potatoes caught young, with skins so thin they are part of the pleasure, and flesh sweet enough that too much fuss would be bad manners.

This is weeknight food, yes, but it is also garden-table food, barbecue food, the bowl everyone reaches for while pretending to discuss the sausages. The trick is not the butter, though the butter helps. The trick is to boil the potatoes gently, let them dry for a minute so the skins can drink, then toss while they are still warm enough to pull the herbs and garlic into the butter. Hou het altijd simpel, always keep it simple. The little potatoes already know what they are doing.