The waiter slides the plate of lamb vindaloo in front of me, the infamous Indian dish hotter than gunpower on fire. Lamb cubes swim lazily in a rich red gravy sauce made from liberal doses of chili peppers, turmeric, and coriander. I pierce a cube of lamb smothered with gravy and prepare my mouth for some fire. I pop it into my mouth, and chew. Spicy food doesn't bother me. What does bother me is it's so damn hard to find spicy food in The Netherlands. Dutch cuisine doesn't have much spice -- fine, I get that -- but even food that's supposed to be spicy isn't spicy. Indian, Thai, and Mexican restaurants have all been as scary as a rubber toy bulldog with a pink bow. This got me thinking, if the Dutch became a world power by trading spices, why is Dutch cuisine so bland? I took my question to a Dutch friend of mine. He's my get-out-of-jail-free-card; the guy I go to for all questions Dutch. "It's because spices aren't native to The Netherlands and therefore people didn't accept it," he stated absently. "But the potato isn't from here," I countered, "it's from South America and it's been extremely successful." "The potato isn't from The Netherlands?" he hadn't considered this before. Then with renewed confidence he declared, "It's because the Dutch were too cheap to buy spices!" He waved his hand as if his answer solved not only this question but any other questions that I might come up with. I didn't like his answer. It didn't sit well with me and I couldn't get it out of my head. For starters it's too pat, too neat. History is about as neat a three year old child with a bowl of spaghetti. History is complex. History is messy. History has too many skeletons in the closet. Secondly, I didn't like his answer because it echoed a stereotype. I asked more Dutch friends and got the same answer. "Too cheap." "Too cheap." "Too Cheap." They rattled off the answer in a moment's notice without giving it much thought. I started to wonder if the largest propagator of this particular Dutch stereotype wasn't the Dutch themselves. Not satisfied, I did a bit of research. The VOC (that is the Dutch East India Company) thrived for 200 years. When it started in 1602, The Netherlands was only recently freed from Spanish rule. They were still a poor country, having been heavily taxed and restricted from any serious trade. With their new found freedom and bristling potential, Jan Huygen van Linschoten spied on the extremely secretive Portuguese to steal their trade routes to the Spice Islands. The Portuguese were overextended and it didn't take much for the Dutch -- with their mandate from the government to kick-ass when necessary -- to push the Portuguese out of their company towns and seize the spice trade for the VOC. They started with the west coast of India, then to Sri Lanka, and eastward to the fabled Spice Islands -- present day Indonesia -- where they discovered nutmeg. Nutmeg only grew on a couple islands which the VOC controlled. The Dutch went as far as uprooting trees on other islands to ensure it stayed that way. With Europe cuisine craving nutmeg, soon the spice surpassed the value of gold. Imagine the value of the ships as they sailed in to Amsterdam chock-full of the spice. The VOC's locked monopoly on nutmeg soon made it the most profitable company on the planet. Over its 200 year history it averaged an amazing 18% returns for its stockholders. Fast forward to today, the VOC is gone but The Netherlands is still a leading importer of nutmeg to Europe where it is still relished in the national cuisines of the UK, German, French, Italian, and it goes without saying -- Dutch cuisines. The Dutch weren't too cheap to buy spices after all. All along I assumed they imported hot spices like chili powder, cayenne pepper, and curry; all hotter than a red dress on a Saturday night. Rather, the VOC imported spices with flavor but not heat; like nutmeg, cloves, and black pepper, three basic staples of the Dutch cuisine. This means the Dutch never acquired the taste for strong spices and doesn't look like they will anytime soon. As for my vindaloo dish, as I chew the cube of lamb smothered in gravy, you can almost see the disappointment in my face. The sauce, it turns out, is as tepid as ketchup. Anticipating this, I reach into my jacket pocket. I've learned to solve my spice problem by doing a little spice importing of my own. I now tuck a small bottle of Tabasco Sauce in my jacket when I go out. Go ahead, serve me your limp-wristed vindaloos, your wet-noodle tamales, your weak-kneed hutspot -- I got the spices right here! BACK to Writings on Europe Copyright © 2008 Reed Spraguehttp://www.yayabiko.com/blog/?page_id=19shapeimage_1_link_0
King of the Spices (sort of)
 
How the Dutch Conquered the World while Missing the Boat on Spices.