Living here has only confirmed my previous impression of the general Dutch diet and cooking; that is to say: stunning in the sheer scope of its unimaginative- and unvaried-ness. As far as I can tell, for most Dutch folks the diet consists primarily of: bread and cheese (not necessarily in that order). Breakfast? Bread and cheese, with coffee or tea. Additional breakfast options include: bread with jam, bread with peanut butter, and buttered bread topped with some representative of the Sugar Food Group (i.e., actual sugar; anise-flavored sugar, sugar syrup; fruit syrup; Nutella and nutella equivalents; milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, or fruit-flavored "sprinkles;" milk chocolate, dark chocolate, or white chocolate flakes, small thin chocolate no-I-am-not-making-this-up candy bars; little tiny cookies). Okay, I take back that thing about the lack of variety. Lunch? See the above.
But what about the cooking, you ask? Well, there isn't actually anything one could call Dutch "cuisine," except maybe Indonesian, an exotic, spicy cuisine the Dutch picked up as part of their colonial (read: imperialist dog) heritage. Traditional Dutch cooking (which hasn't, apparently, changed much since the Bronze Age), consists of lots of potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower, and the like, often with cheese added (presumably for flavor). And meat, of course, but because I don't eat meat I don't pay much attention to whatever it is the Dutch do to it.
One of my beloved Dutch extended family members kindly presented me with a nouveau Dutch cookbook upon our arrival. Well, I should have realized the fact that the thing had a foreward by Jamie Oliver, aka The Naked Chef, was not a good sign. Apparently, Jamie Oliver is particularly popular in the Netherlands, and I know this fact partly because another of my beloved Dutch extended family members presented me with Jamie's Amerika (yes, in Dutch; oh the irony) as a Christmas gift last year. Now, in case these people didn't realize, Jamie Oliver is British. And everybody else in the world knows that the British can't cook worth a damn, think "tinned" peas are actually edible, and regard vegetables as The Enemy (battle plan: cook them to death). Nevertheless, attempting to pry my mind open, I looked through every page of that nouveau Dutch cookbook. And guess what's in there? Lots of bread, cheese, and cabbage (although, to be fair, several different kinds of cabbage and cabbage recipes were presented, so I apologize for that earlier comment about lack of variety, okay?). The main cooking innovation, as far as I could tell, was - gasp! - the addition of an herb (mainly thyme, and I mean thyme was in nearly EVERY recipe).
Now, I'm not sure the Dutch consider herbs and spices to be The Enemy, but neither am I sure the Dutch are sure what you're supposed to do them. Once, when visiting my mother-in-law, I went looking for some pretty run-of-the-mill herbs and spices with which to cook dinner. I like to cook. I like interesting flavor combinations. I like herbs and spices, and they don't necessarily have to be exotic, but I am lost without certain staples such as: garlic, basil, garlic, oregano, garlic, thyme, garlic, cumin, and garlic (you see why I throw that annual garlic party). Not a single form of garlic was to be found in my mother-in-law's house. Also no basil, oregano, or thyme, although there was an "Italian herbs" mix, the kind those of us who like to cook regard with disgust because it is clearly designed for people who don't know the first thing about Italian cooking. There were also 5 (five) packets of something called "meat herbs." Don't ask; since I don't cook meat I didn't even bother to look at what was in the mix. "Oll," I said, "You never have to buy 'meat herbs' again. You have a lifetime supply of 'meat herbs.' BUT WHERE IS THE GARLIC??"
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