The morning air carries a peculiar sweetness as Emma steps onto the cobblestones of Gouda’s historic marketplace. The Markt Square stretches before her, framed by the imposing Gothic façade of the Stadhuis (City Hall) with its distinctive red shutters and the soaring tower of Sint-Janskerk beyond.

But today, Emma barely notices these architectural wonders. Her senses are captivated by the spectacle unfolding in the square: the famous Gouda Cheese Market, a tradition that has endured since the Middle Ages.

It’s just past 10 AM on a Thursday in summer, and the marketplace has transformed into a living museum of Dutch cheese culture. Neatly arranged rows of large, wax-covered wheels of Gouda cheese form golden islands in a sea of blue — the traditional attire of the kaasboeren (cheese farmers) and their assistants.

Over 2,000 pounds

“I’ve read about this for years, but seeing it in person…” Emma whispers to herself, joining the growing crowd of spectators encircling the market. The sight is something no photograph could fully capture: over 2,000 pounds of cheese laid out in perfect formation, each wheel between 12 and 16 kilograms, their natural yellow hue brightened by the morning sun.

A bell rings from the Waag — the historic Cheese Weighing House that has stood at the eastern end of the square since 1668. Its ornate façade bears relief sculptures depicting the cheese-making process, a testament to how deeply this commodity has shaped Gouda’s identity. The bell signals the official opening of the market, and Emma feels a surge of excitement ripple through the crowd.

“Pardon me,” says a friendly voice beside her. An elderly Dutch man with weathered hands and twinkling eyes introduces himself as Pieter. “First time at our cheese market? You’ve chosen a good spot to watch.”
Emma nods eagerly, and Pieter points toward two men approaching a stack of cheese wheels. “Watch carefully now. This is where the real tradition happens.”

‘Handjeklap’

The negotiations begin with a ritual that dates back centuries. The farmer and the merchant face each other, sizing up both cheese and competitor. Then comes the moment Emma has read about: the handclap negotiation, or “handjeklap.”

The merchant extends his hand. The farmer slaps it firmly, calling out his asking price. The merchant counters with his offer, accompanied by another handclap. Back and forth they go, their hands meeting in loud, rhythmic slaps that echo across the square. The crowd watches, entranced by this physical bargaining language.

“Each slap seals a new offer,” Pieter explains. “The price gets negotiated with every clap until they reach an agreement. Then they clap once more to seal the deal. This tradition is older than anyone can remember.”

The negotiation concludes with a final, decisive handclap and broad smiles from both parties. The cheese wheels are loaded onto wooden barrows by carriers dressed in white with colorful straw hats and bow ties. These “kaasdragers” belong to a cheese-carriers’ guild with its own strict traditions. They hoist the heavy wheels with practiced ease, transporting them to the Waag to be weighed on ancient scales.

Emma follows the procession, drawn by curiosity. Inside the Waag, the atmosphere changes — cooler, dimmer, with the smell of aged cheese more pronounced. The interior’s wooden beams and original scales speak of centuries of commerce. Each wheel is carefully weighed and recorded, just as it would have been hundreds of years ago.

Wooden clogs

Returning to the square, Emma notices how the market has evolved beyond mere commerce into a celebration of Dutch culture. Traditional music plays as costumed performers demonstrate old-fashioned cheese-making techniques. Children in wooden clogs giggle as they help turn a small cheese press. The square has become a tapestry of sensory experiences.

“Would you like to taste the real thing?” Pieter asks, leading Emma toward a sampling station. Here, cheese of different ages awaits — jong (young), belegen (mature), oud (old), and the prized extra oud, aged for over 18 months.

Emma accepts a sliver of belegen Gouda, closing her eyes as she tastes it. The cheese is firm but yielding, with a complex nutty flavor and slight caramel undertones — nothing like the mass-produced versions sold in supermarkets abroad.

“This one was made on a farm just outside the city,” explains the woman offering samples. “The cows graze on rich polder lands, and you can taste the difference in the milk.”

Regional specialties

As noon approaches, Emma wanders between stalls that have sprung up around the periphery of the main market. Here, local producers sell not just cheese but other regional specialties: stroopwafels steaming fresh off the iron, jenever (Dutch gin) in small ceramic bottles, and handcrafted wooden cheese tools.

At one stall, Emma watches a demonstration of cheese-making. A young woman in traditional dress stirs a large copper vat of milk, adding rennet to separate curds from whey. The woman explains each step, switching effortlessly between Dutch, English, and German to accommodate her international audience.

“The process hasn’t changed much in centuries,” she tells Emma. “We use pasteurized milk now, of course, but the essence remains the same — good milk, patience, and the perfect aging conditions.”

Living link to the past

The market begins to wind down in the early afternoon. The last wheels are sold, the final handclaps exchanged. But the festive atmosphere persists as visitors linger, savoring both cheese and experience. Emma finds herself sitting at a café overlooking the square, a plate of aged Gouda beside a glass of local beer.

From here, she watches as the market is dismantled with the same efficiency with which it was assembled. White-clad farmers carefully pack unsold cheese into vans. The wooden barrows are stacked and stored for next week’s market. Even in this closing ritual, there is a choreographed precision that speaks of generations of practice.

As the square gradually returns to its everyday state, Emma realizes she has witnessed more than just a tourist attraction. The Gouda Cheese Market is a living link to the past, a tradition that has adapted through centuries while preserving its essence. It connects modern visitors to the agricultural heritage that built this nation, offering not just a taste of exceptional cheese but a glimpse into the soul of Dutch culture.

The bell of Sint-Janskerk chimes three o’clock. Emma finishes her beer and carefully wraps the wedge of aged Gouda she purchased to take home. The cheese will travel with her across oceans, but she knows that its flavor will forever be linked in her memory with this square, these sounds, and the rhythmic handclaps of commerce conducted as it has been for over seven centuries in the heart of Gouda.