I’ve always had a penchant for an Irish maximalist superstore experience. A place where you’d get lost in the aisles of produce, sometimes delicious and exquisite, sometimes utter crap, where you could wander around for hours and wouldn’t see the same person twice. I would wait with bated breath for my mother’s weekly invitation of “who wants to go to big Tesco?” with the same seam-bursting excitement as I would on Christmas Eve. We’d pile into the family Volvo, once the homework and bowls of spaghetti bolognese were cleared from the table, and we’d sail off into the early evening, bags for life and delirious children in tow. The car doors would open, and we’d spill out into the car park, through the revolving doors into the Mecca that was Tesco Extra on Knocknagoney Road in Belfast. I feel the same way about supermarkets as I do about going to the cinema. You decide that you will, temporarily, step out of this mortal coil and into a place where time stands still. Gone are the outside maladies of work, school or any of that other stressful stuff, because, for a brief moment, you exist only to browse, fantasise and feed. Heatwave outside? It’s a chilled interior, a calming breath. Stressful day at work? Let your troubles dissipate in the cereal aisle. I’ll never get overwhelmed with the fluorescent lighting, the metallic jangling of trolleys or the static of the loudspeaker. Quite the opposite – I relish the discomfort of the endless aisles and the gormless teenager stacking shelves. This little ecosystem hums along as I float, blissfully and aimlessly, through. I’ve got favourites. I rank as follows: French, German, Irish and a UK Marks & Spencer up there too. French for their endless assortments of mayos and biscuits, German for their bread sections and their whirring abattoir of slicing machines, Irish for Dunnes (obviously). [ Japan working holiday: ‘Lots go to Australia - this is a different experience’Opens in new window ]After 10 years of living abroad, I find myself fantasising about nipping out to the Swan Centre in Rathmines. I go in for a bag of rice, I come out with a loaf of sourdough, a bottle of half-priced Spätburgunder and a lemon balm candle that won’t fill my livingroom with cancerous toxins. I feel delirious on my supermarket quests, knowing that, for a modest sum, I’m able to feel pure, unadulterated joy. But not all supermarkets are created equal. I live in the Netherlands, a country that excels in its engineering and shipbuilding capabilities, with a digital infrastructure that would make a German – or Irish, for that matter – person weep. Said infrastructure is something I will miss dearly if I decide to leave this place. I believe that countries can only be very good at some things, and Dutch supermarkets prove this to be true. Every time I’m forced to part with my hard-earned cash to buy tasteless, shrink-wrapped bell peppers, or aerated bread that turns stale after an hour, a small part of me withers and dies. Irritated, I wander the confectionery aisle in Albert Heijn (the country’s largest supermarket chain) in search of a good-quality sweet treat, only to find something as nefarious as a Dubai Chocolate profiterole on special offer. Mango sticks sitting sadly with a congealed passionfruit dip; a poké bowl-style layer cake wedged into the deli aisle. As I confront these monstrosities, I think of the genius of the M&S food development team, and wonder why I can’t have it all in this life. So when I return home to Dublin, I always know exactly where I’ll go first. The capitalistic joy of a perfectly ripe heirloom tomato that’s not pumped full of water welcomes me back like a warm embrace – and I’ll eat it up every time.Freya von Noorden Pierce is from Dublin and lives in Amsterdam, where she works as a copywriterAre you Irish and living in another country? Would you like to share your experience in writing or by interview? You can use the form below, or email abroad@irishtimes.com. Irish Times Abroad submission guidelines here. Follow us on Instagram to keep up with the latestSign up to The Irish Times Abroad newsletter for Irish-connected people around the world.