Mexicano (Dutch Snackbar Snack)

The Mexicano is what happens when the Dutch snackbar, that fluorescent little republic of hunger, decides it wants drama but still wants it for a few coins. Flat, ridged, orange-red with paprika and pepper, it sits between the frikandel and the kroket like the cousin who came back from holiday with stories. The name already tells you what people wanted to taste: not Mexico itself, but the idea of heat, colour, and distance in a country that had long made spices ordinary.

But let me tell you a secret. This thing is Dutch. Not old Dutch, not grandmother's notebook Dutch, but petrol-station, football-evening, after-school Dutch. We have a habit of pretending our food became interesting only when it looked abroad, while the truth is stranger and better: the Dutch snack bar took industrial minced meat, paprika, curry powder, sambal, and the deep fryer, then made a new folk food out of them. Exuberant cookery in a frugal country, with a paper tray.

The ribs matter. They are not decoration. They make edges, and edges crisp; they catch sauce; they let a thin meat snack fry quickly without turning heavy. Hou het altijd simpel, always keep it simple: mix the meat cold, season it boldly, press it flat, score the grooves deep, chill it until firm, then fry hard and briefly. Eat it with curry sauce, and don't pretend you reached for a knife and fork.