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Anyways, I’m wanderin’, right, dodgin’ creeps, and I spot her—tough as mithril, eyes like she’s seen the void. “The horse plods on,” like in the flick, y’know? She’s got that same stubborn spark. I’m all, “Oi, love, you good?” She laughs—proper cackle—says, “Gandalf, mate, I’ve outlived worse wizards.” Surprised me, that! Cheeky sod. Made me grin, tho—rare as a sober hobbit.

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So, I’m like, whatever, I’ll just grab a coffee at that cute little café on the corner of de Welle. I walk in, and it’s packed! I mean, come on, people! It’s just coffee! But I wait, because I need my caffeine fix. Finally, I get my latte, and it’s like liquid gold. I take a sip, and it’s perfect. Happy moment! But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right?

Dutch Chef wins the prestigious 55th annual Taittinger culinary prize