Dutches, they like Italian food, they love it. They hog it like there’s no tomorrow, and who knows?! Maybe they know better! Maybe there IS no tomorrow! Behold, my mozzarella!

They like it because it’s tasty? Nah. They like it because it’s fancy? Nnnnnnnnah. So, why exactly do they like it? Well, because it is fancy and tasty for its PRICE. Dutches will happily switch to Champagne&Oysters, curse my nuts if I would not!

But as a someone said once: “My dream? A night out with cocaine&hookers. The reality: a night in, diet coke and internet”.

That said, Dutchland is no Monte Carlo, not so many Ferraris around, and also not so many of those hulky Russian guys driving those fancy Italian cars like they own the street, which is probably true, therefore: it’s a nice place! No-nonsense, nor fake, libertarian without a taste for excess, and still remembering the terrible winter of 1945, I am a person who feel for this. “Thrift” is still a good word in the Dutches’ universe, and I believe they love Italian food for that: because it delivers a terrific “bang” for their beloved geld!

That said: they can, at times, go too far.

Let’s be frank here: way.too.far.

Because of well-studied psycho-dynamical reasons “exotic” food always taste more interesting, exciting. That is all more true when local food is, how to put it? Boring? Really boring? Killing you softly with that daily boredom’s poisoning? Well then! The local trading tradition, spanning centuries and having given a mighty luster to the otherwise too-worldly true greed of the Batavian soul, come to the rescue! Let’s import some fancier stuff! Let’s do it! NOW!

But, and there is a but and everybody saw it coming: it is going to cost us money. Real money, not “The Hobbit Special Edition” Monopoly’s one. And the locals, who are smart but do love their money, seems to have no problem to fall into the contradiction of exchanging as little money as possible to purchase as “exotic” as possible, fancy-named, foreign food! The result? Well, let’s just say that France is quite happy to have an outlet for the “Final Destination” of 70% of their aenological production, which, guess what? does not really make it to the standard of “excellons” that the Froggies are used to for the internal market. Translation: they dump their rubbish here.

And guess (again) what? A lot of other countries do the same, as well. As long as you do not want to spend more than 2,68 euros on a bit of Feta Cheese that has to be flown-in from all the way from a 2000 km away biological farm in Peloponnosos just be sure of a few thing: you are not getting any Feta cheese and that piece of peloponneso that is related to you now happens to be either in Germany or Limburg.

That’s life. Get a helmet, and not a toy one from Bob De Bouwer. I know, I can already hear the huffy replies: “but the real ones are expensive!”