Every Friday morning, locals and tourists alike swarm to Alkmaar for the weekly cheese market in front of the cheese church. Having missed the Keukenhof gardens by an entire season, I wasn't about to miss the cheese so I braved the morning cold and sleepiness.
The sight of so many wheels (is that the right penjodoh bilangan?) of cheese made my heart gallop like a little deer. But alas, I realised that after all the pomp and show (they even have scientist-lookalikes to cut open some cheese and discuss intellectually among themselves for 15 minutes), these cheese aren't for sale! The workers wheeled the wheels of cheese into big trucks, where they're delivered to Timbuktu and never seen again.
What we could buy, was of course these smaller ones, from the one stall selling cheese at the cheese market square. I didn't get any because I didn't wanna be lugging cheese around town on my first leg of journey. Now I regretted it. But only slightly. Because hey, cheese is cheese right. Regardless of whether it's starred in a show or not.
2 comments:
yeah.. yet they call cheese by a million names - brie, parmesan, cheddar, emmenthal, mozzarella, etc.. etc...
Still, a cheese by any other name will smell juz as foul.. to me. :P
Have a good week!!
The old cheese are the foulest. Kept so long they're brittle and dry. And the smell... ugh. I like mine younger and fresher! *wink*
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