An oliebol a day keeps the doctor away
A visual journey of crispy edges and powdered sugar.
As I come to terms with my new habit, I've collected enough shots to dedicate an entire post to the spherical Dutch delicacy that we call oliebol (plural oliebollen). Funny enough, I wasn't planning to write anything but alas, I gave in to the sound of the sizzling hot oil and I'm here to defend the oliebollen season as more than just increased rates of early diabetes. Enjoy the ride as we celebrate the ancient alchemy of deep fried dough.
The first oliebol of the year was the start of a long night out in Rotterdam: hungry before dinner time and blinded by the bright lights. I caved in, at the risk of destroying my appetite before my dinner. Capitalism caught me at my lowest point and I settled for an overpriced, subpar oliebol that only made my hunger pangs louder and my bank balance smaller. After all these years, I’m still amazed at how well capitalism works. I, unknowingly, demanded the instant gratification of this sweet sin, and they, being strategically placed right outside of the Rotterdam Central Station, supplied the commodity. As an empowered consumer, after my lackluster experience with the said business, I made the decision not to trade with them again. Does that influence the kraam and nudge them to innovate? Who knows. But the theory holds… in theory.
I must admit their business left me feeling a mix of emotions: I could sense some notes of despair on the nose, with ripe anger at myself and a gloomy aftertaste. Luckily the finish was on the shorter side with this one. But capitalism, as an economic system, is inhuman, and it’s pointless to bring human emotions into the room right now.
But lately, I've been thinking a lot about sentiments, particularly love — perhaps a residual warmth and joy from the holidays. Or, it could be the beautiful post that Audra recently shared, along with her deepest sentiments, that left a mark on me.
Or the passing of a professor from my alma mater, Mehmet Camurdan. For he had nothing but love for his work, and even more so for sharing every drop of knowledge he had left in him at his old age. And all that he expected in turn was your attention. I think it was yet another job application where I found myself revising my CV. Every bullet point, listing experiences and skills, seemed foreign to me… almost like they were detached. I realized it was only through people's love and unconditional support that I could tick all these boxes of requirements in job ads. But let's make it easy for ourselves and call it “all of the above”. Because in essence, love as a subject is one heavy concept to dissect, and as a sentiment even heavier weight to lift: it takes a village of empathy to feel love. For love is the purest of all emotions we humans are capable of showing.
It is the very same unconditional love that I have to thank for having the strength to wake up in the morning and the confidence that “I can do this”.
This confidence is incomparable, and you can’t put a price tag on it. It’s priceless as you literally can’t place a fiscal value on it. But for everything else, there’s capitalism1. But love is a different story, it knows no bounds. It has no direction, no edges. And that brings us back to the oliebol: the imperfectly spherical shape holds more than there is to see. Look at the ingredients list more carefully and you'll find love somewhere down the list.
My usual spot in Delft where I got my daily sugar fix in a crispy orbital form doesn’t provide a nutritional value chart, though. It’s in the works. But until the EU regulates the minimum amount of love required in 100 grams of oliebollen, you’ll have to take my word for it. I envision a future where oliebollen made in Delft receives its PDO status. Even if it means a price hike2, their craft should be more widely recognized.
The golden orb of delight is expertly dusted with powdered sugar that falls gentler than a snowflake on a calm winter day. A controversial question for many: do you raisin or not? But here, we don't discriminate, all pronouns are welcome: he, she, xe, raisins. And neither does love.
Oliebollen come in all shapes and sizes and fillings. You name it, they fill your balls with it - pun intended. The massive poached pear oliebol, almost the size of my hand - and I have big hands - was a win. It won so badly that I almost shed a tear when I found out it was a limited edition. My heart... it always wants to chase the one I can't have.
I must address the diem horribilis - Antwerp happened. On a chaotically unplanned last-minute trip to the Antwerp Christmas market, we tried the Belgian oliebollen. I'm not angry Belgium, I'm just disappointed. Belgian oliebollen - at least the specific ones we tried in Antwerp3 - resembled a small-scale prototype of the ideal orb. This is where mathematics fails us: the higher surface-to-volume ratio doesn't make better oliebollen.
And what I cherish the most about the oliebollen season is the random pop of joy that comes in the form of a tiny oliebollen stand. So small that you can't see it from the line of oliebollen enthusiasts. But you know it exists somewhere out there because you can smell the sweet temptation in the air carried by the particles of caramelized sugar.
And some days you just run into a random guy drinking wine and giving away free oliebollen. You never know which bakery is in the mood for this act of kindness... It's spontaneous, almost chaotic. After all, oliebollen is more than a pile of dough. It's being generous and showing unconditional love. Since Substack still doesn’t allow posting videos you’ll have to leave the safety cushions of my blog and enter the realm of Meta - I mean just check out my Instagram post.
Do yourself a favor. And love today.
Cheers,
Aysun
Now I must pay Adam Smith due credit here since he’s written - in my humble amateur philosophy enthusiast opinion - one of the best books on love called “The Theory of Moral Sentiments”. He argues that “Man naturally desires, not only to be loved, but to be lovely.” I agree with him on that free market capitalism, in theory, should lead to enough prosperity for humans to pursue what actually matters in life: love.
Remember, capitalism just works.
OK maybe it was our fault going for the only oliebollen stand owned by an Italian-Turkish duo at the Antwerp Christmas market.