As a kid growing up in Dallas, we were not the most elite folks. We didn’t join a country club or go on extreme vacations abroad. We couldn’t keep up with the Jones’ because we didn’t know who they were. We had, or should I say my father (The Dutchman) had to watch where his money was going.

article from Shelby Report
By Mandy Rodgers
Staff Writer

Kent Wenzel’s father—whom he affectionately calls The Dutchman—refused to eat bologna after a horrifying child-hood field trip memory involving a rattail. His sans-bolognadiet lasted until Wenzel himself opened a local meat marketin the small town of Hamilton, Texas.