
Chef Joost
Amsterdamse Ossenworst
The name means ox sausage, but the real story is Amsterdam itself: cattle trade, Jewish butchers, VOC spices, and raw beef sliced thin with onion.
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The name is almost too modest: cheese sticks, yes, but with aged Gouda, buttered pastry, and the whole Dutch art of making a birthday table disappear one handful at a time.
The Dutch birthday table is a serious institution disguised as a casual one. There is coffee first, cake after, chairs in a circle for obvious reasons, and somewhere between the cubes of cheese and the schaal met bitterballen, the platter of kaasstengels begins to empty. Nobody admits to taking the last one. Everybody has taken the last one.
The name already tells you nearly everything, which is very Dutch of it: kaas, cheese, and stengel, a stem or stick. No heroic etymology hides here, no exile route, no spice fleet. But let me tell you a secret: plain names often guard the best habits. A kaasstengel is the borrel, that convivial Dutch drink-and-snack hour, reduced to its cleanest form: butter, salt, cheese, crisp pastry, and something in your hand while the conversation gets comfortably loud.
The trick is restraint. Use properly aged Gouda, because young cheese melts politely and tastes of very little, while oude kaas, old cheese, brings salt, nuttiness, and those small crunchy crystals under the teeth. Keep the pastry cold, press the cheese into it, twist firmly, and bake until deeply golden. Hou het altijd simpel, always keep it simple. The oven does the showing off.
Kaasstengels belong to modern Dutch borrel culture, the home and cafe tradition of serving small salty snacks with drinks, especially at birthdays, office gatherings, and late afternoon visits. Their backbone is Gouda-style cheese, tied to the Dutch cheese trade that made towns such as Gouda, Edam, and Alkmaar famous from the early modern period onward, even though the pastry stick itself is a later bakery and household form. The dish teaches a very Dutch lesson: the national table often hides its pleasures in plain words and practical shapes.
Quantity
1 sheet, about 320g
thawed but cold
Quantity
120g
finely grated
Quantity
1
beaten
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1/4 teaspoon
Quantity
to taste
freshly ground
Quantity
a small pinch
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| all-butter puff pastrythawed but cold | 1 sheet, about 320g |
| aged Goudafinely grated | 120g |
| eggbeaten | 1 |
| Dijon mustard | 1 teaspoon |
| sweet paprika | 1/2 teaspoon |
| freshly grated nutmeg | 1/4 teaspoon |
| black pepperfreshly ground | to taste |
| flaky sea salt (optional) | a small pinch |
Heat the oven to 200C and line two baking trays with parchment. Keep the puff pastry in the refrigerator until the moment you need it. Warm pastry turns soft and sulky, and a soft kaasstengel twists badly.
Unroll the cold pastry on a lightly floured surface. Stir the beaten egg with the mustard, then brush a thin layer over the pastry. Scatter over the Gouda, paprika, nutmeg, and black pepper, keeping the cheese even right to the edges.
Fold the pastry in half like a book, cheese side inward, and press gently with a rolling pin so the cheese grips the dough. Brush the top lightly with more egg. You are not flattening it into obedience; you are giving the layers enough pressure to stay together in the oven.
Cut the folded pastry into 24 narrow strips, about 1.5cm wide. Twist each strip three or four times and lay it on the prepared trays with space between them. If the pastry feels soft, chill the trays for ten minutes before baking. Cold butter makes crisp pastry. This is not folklore, it is engineering with better manners.
Bake for 15 to 18 minutes, rotating the trays halfway through, until the kaasstengels are puffed, deeply golden, and crisp at the edges. Let them cool on the trays for five minutes, then move them to a rack. They firm as they cool, so don't judge the first one too early, though naturally you will eat it anyway.
1 serving (about 18g)
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