About fifteen years ago my husband's parents went to Ireland. (My mother-in-law's parents were from Mayo. Father-in-law's family were Neapolitans.)
One night in Dublin they went into an "Italian" restaurant and ordered the "pizza."
The waitress disappeared. She was gone a long time.
Finally she returned, with an apologetic look on her pretty face.
"Oh sir," she said. "I'm so terribly sorry, sir. But it seems--
"It seems we're all out of cheddar cheese!
"Would it be all right if they used the mozzarella instead?"