Privacy

Your recipes, cookbooks and family projects are private to your account. Nothing becomes visible to anyone else unless you turn on a share link yourself, and you can turn it off again. Sharing is per item and per audience, and it is never applied retroactively to something you did not write.

Pages you share by link are not indexed by search engines. They are reachable by anyone holding the link, which is what makes them easy to pass around a family — so treat the link itself as the key.

Accounts, recipes and uploaded photos are stored on Google Cloud, using Firebase. Nothing you write is sold, and nothing is used to train a model.

Analytics loads only after you accept it. Decline, and no analytics cookie is written and your browser sends nothing.

A small number of things are counted by our own server rather than by your browser, and those are recorded whatever you choose: an order completing, and a note or reaction left on a recipe somebody shared with you. They carry no name, no email address and nothing you wrote — an opaque id, a count, a yes-or-no.

When it is on, what we measure is how far people get through the product — pages visited, whether a recipe was saved, whether an order completed. No recipe text, ingredient, story, name, email address, search term or any other free-text value is ever sent as an analytics parameter. That is enforced in code, not by policy: an event carrying a free-text value is dropped before it is sent.

Card details are handled by Stripe and are never sent to or stored by cooqbooq. What we keep is the order itself: what was in the book, where it goes, and what it cost.

An order receipt, an invitation you asked us to send, a note that a contributor added a recipe to your project. There is no marketing list and no newsletter. Every message that can be turned off carries a one-click unsubscribe, and your choice is honoured per address and per kind of message.

Two things can use AI if you choose them: tidying up the text read from a photo of a recipe card, and drawing a picture for a dish. Both are optional, both work without you ever touching them, and a picture drawn by a machine is labelled as one wherever it appears. Recipes themselves are never generated — the words stay yours.

If someone invites you to a gathering here, your invite link offers an optional place to note what you avoid eating — allergies, intolerances, the way you eat. It is written by you, in your own words. Nothing about your eating is ever inferred, imported, or filled in for you, and skipping it changes nothing about your invitation.

It is stored only when you choose to save it, and at that moment you pick exactly who can see it: only the host, everyone at the gathering, or nobody but you. You can change what you wrote, change who sees it, or delete the record itself — not just the sharing — from the same link at any time, without an account. Like every link here, your invite link is the key: anyone holding it can open that page, so treat it as yours. It is never printed in a book, and it is never used for analytics.

If something of yours has ended up in someone else’s collection, you can ask for it to be removed without an account. That page sets out how a request is weighed, how long it takes, and — honestly — what removal cannot undo once a book has been printed.

You can build a single file containing everything you have written here — recipes, cookbooks, gatherings, orders, the notes you have left — together with your photographs (the archive carries a limited number of photographs — the file names any it left out), and download it. It is in Settings, under “Take a copy with you”, and you can do it as often as you like.

It holds what is yours. A recipe you gave to a family box belongs to that household, and any member of that household can export the box itself. Nothing anybody else wrote is in your copy, and no password, link or invitation travels in it.

Deleting something marks it as deleted rather than erasing it, and photographs with nothing left pointing at them are cleaned up on a stated schedule. How long we keep things sets out the period, what a restore does and does not bring back, and why anything inside a book you ordered is kept regardless.