Tag Archive | America

Say cheese! Or kaas…

I love cheese. There. I said it. I wouldn’t be much of a Dutchman if I didn’t… my country produces the best cow-milk cheeses in the world. Keep your cheddars, your Gruy√®res and your Emmental… it’s Gouda that wins it for me every single time. Preferable an aged Gouda, almost as crumbly as Parmezan, with crunchy salt crystals locked inside its yellow insides. There is nothing more delicious and rich than that. Kaas, that’s what we call it.

Old Gouda, the best cheese there is

Old Gouda, the best cheese there is

Chances are you have never had a proper piece of Dutch chees (unless you are in Holland).That has many reasons, the main one being that we keep the best stuff for ourselves. The Dutch cheese we export is, well, awful. Especially Edam. I have yet to meet a Dutchman who eats Edam cheese. It may be pretty-looking, those cute red bowling-balls, but we Dutch consider Edam for tourists only. Gouda is king, and the best Gouda doesn’t even come from anywhere near that city. Anywhere in Holland will do, actually. Rich pastures enough! But even exported Gouda is horrible; soapy, orange and cheddar-like. Avoid! And come to Holland to try the real stuff.

Edam: pretty but only for tourists

Edam: pretty but only for tourists

Anyway, enough with the chauvinism. Every country has its own wonderful cheeses in Europe. France has got thousands even, made from milk from cows, goats and sheep, and sometimes a blend of these. You have big hard yellow cheeses, soft fruity white ones, pungent orange ones with a sticky rind, and fragrant blue cheeses. A rainbow of cheese, literally. And I love almost all of them.

France, cheeselover's heaven

France, cheeselover’s heaven

Whenever I travel, I go out of my way to try the local cheeses. Not from the supermarket, but from the farmers, or from little √©piceries. And I have made wonderful discoveries that way, plus quite a few disappointents. To start with the latter… I have yet to find a cheese in the Czech Republic that has some flavor to it, and the Turkish cheeses are also a delicacy that is entirely wasted on me. But a real fresh Greek feta cheese, eaten on a terrace overlooking some deep blue expanse of Aegean, with a crisp white wine on the side… that’s truly the food of gods.

Feta cheese in Greece... heavenly

Feta cheese in Greece… heavenly

And then there is Australia. Oh dear. Australia. In Australia you can either have fantastic, artisanal farm-made cheese, for which you pay absolute fortunes… or you buy cheese in the supermarket like 99% of the people, and then you have the most awful factory-made stuff you can imagine. Australia loves processed cheeses, like Americans do. Cheese that basically has melted and resolidified in square blocks, which is then sliced and individually wrapped in plastic (!), and which melts in ten seconds when shoved in a toaster oven. It’s the same sort of ‘cheese’ that fastfood restaurants slap on top of their cheeseburgers. It’s yellow, it’s gooey… and that’s where the resemblance to proper cheese ends. I was utterly disgusted, and to my dismay the producer of this cheese-travesty had had the gall to call it ‘Tasty Cheese’. Tasty? No sir, it is not. ‘Bland’ is the kindest adjective I can find, but ‘Revolting’ is more truthful. America is -as always with food- even worse. There, processed cheese is very much the norm, in all kinds of light varieties even. I prefer to stick a Post-It memo on my sandwich. Yellow, square and even fewer calories! Worst is cheese that comes in an aerosol, called ‘Eazy Cheeze’. Because it’s so difficult to cut a slice of cheese, apparently. Nuff said.

You might as well eat Post-Its...

You might as well eat Post-Its…

My partner knows how particularly spoilt I am when it comes to cheese, and he was wise enough to whisk me off to a farmer’s market where I was delighted to buy an Australian Brie that was very similar to a proper French one, as well as a nice aged Pecorino-type that would not have been booed in Italy. For two chunks of cheese, weighing about 400 grammes together, I paid something like 30 euro’s. That’s Australia for you. Either you pay through the nose for something truly delicious… or you buy substandard industrial crap and still pay more for that than you would for a proper cheese in Europe.

I hereby declare war on Tasty Cheese and all its disgusting brothers and sisters. I am so glad you can’t buy that sort of industrial filth in Holland. Long may it remain so. Because there is simply nothing better than a proper Dutch Gouda.

 

When in Rome… eat pizza!

Pizza is probably the world’s favourite fastfood. You literally find pizza places everywhere, on every continent. A truly global food! Ironically, you may have a hard time finding pizza in Italy. There, it’s considered a regional dish from Naples. So if you happen to be in Venice or Milan or Rome, you really need to search hard for proper pizza, since the locals there prefer their own regional snack food.

Now, I don’t mind pizza every once in a while. I am not wild about it, months can go by without eating one, and when I do, it’s usually a deep-frozen one (always one of those expensive ones though) that I eat at home. Eating out in a pizzeria is something for kids, I think. Nice for a first date when you have barely outgrown McDonalds. But as a discerning adult… no. You also won’t find me ordering a pizza at Domino’s or any other fastfood factory. I really dislike those pizza’s: they are too cheesy, too sweet, too generic, too bready, too everything. Horrible.

Like a fondue on top of cardboard... no, this is NOT a pizza.

Like a fondue on top of cardboard… no, this is NOT a pizza.

The best pizza’s in my life I ate in Naples and in Rome. In Naples, there was a pizzeria on the campsite near Pompeii, and their pizza’s were just heavenly. Thin, crispy, wood-fire-flavoured… and with just the right amount of tomato, cheese and basil leaves to make it perfect. This is as far removed from the American-style calorie-attacks as is humanly possible. A real Neapolitan pizza resembles an American one only in name. But you will never find an Italian who injects cheese, thinks of stuffed crusts, adds bacon to everything or smothers a pizza in half a kilo of molten cheese. Compared to your average American pizza, a Neapolitan pizza is just a snack. And that’s exactly what a pizza is supposed to be!

A proper Napoletan pizza Margherita. Simple, light, tasty.

A proper Neapoletan pizza Margherita. Simple, light, tasty.

The absolute best, most delicious, heavenly pizza I ever had was not in Naples however, but in Rome! In Rome, you can get ‘pizza al taglio’ in little shops, especially near the Campo de Fiori market. Big rectangular slabs of pizza, straight from the oven. You simply point to the one you want, say how much you want to spend, and the chef cuts off a piece (tagliare means to cut) and puts it on greaseproof paper. And then you just find a nearby fountain where you can sit on the edge of the basin, and enjoy your pizza. My favourite was called ‘capricciosa’, it had a generous topping with rocket leaves and artichoke and Parma ham, and it was simply divine.

Take your pick! Pizza al taglio in Rome.

Take your pick! Pizza al taglio in Rome.

I often wish the Roman ‘pizza al taglio’ had become a worldwide snack sensation instead of the Americanized cheesy greasy pizza we have to deal with. Oh well, all the more reason to visit Rome every few years.

Yours truly back in 1996 with two fresh pizza slices at Campo de Fiori.

Yours truly back in 1996 with two fresh pizza slices at Campo de Fiori.