Amsterdam’s Famous Stroopwafels Taste Even Better When You Make Them Yourself

“Think of it as a stress ball,” our guide, Roza, instructed us, as the stroopwafel mixture began to come together in our hands. “A very delicious stress ball!”

Our group of about 15 adults, including my boyfriend and me (kids ages six and up are also welcome to join), followed her over to the cooking station, dutifully squishing our fistfuls of stroopwafel dough as if they were fidget toys throughout the demonstration. Roza placed her perfect sphere of dough in the center of the heavy iron waffle press, clamped it down, and let it sizzle into shape for exactly one minute. When the timer went off, a classic stroopwafel shape emerged, pancake-flat, about the size of a cereal bowl, and embossed with the characteristic diamond-shaped lattice.

Setting the steaming-hot waffle down on the cutting board, she took the sharp end of a steel spatula and slid it into the side of the waffle, splitting it effortlessly into two identical layers. This is the magic of the recipe, she explained, as the water in the dough evaporates in the oven-hot iron, creating tiny air pockets inside. If you cut the waffle quickly, before it cools, the middle pops open, and it separates with ease. Then, the wafer-thin layers are ready to be loaded up with a healthy dollop of hot caramel syrup, before being pressed together to seal it into a gloriously gooey cookie. “You always need more caramel than you think,” Roza advised, a phrase I decided should become my personal mantra from here on out.

Like tulips, clogs, and a coffee-shop culture where caffeine is only the second most ordered thing on the menu, stroopwafels are one of those quintessentially Dutch traditions that you’ll see everywhere in Amsterdam. However, the stroopwafel actually hails from the market town of Gouda, a popular day-trip destination from Amsterdam, especially for foodies. (Its namesake cheese is another famous Dutch delicacy; though, rather ironically, Gouda cheese is actually not from Gouda—it was simply traded there.) Although no one can agree on exactly when the syrup waffle was invented, the oldest-known recipe was created by baker Dirk van Vreumingen in 1854. By the 20th century, stroopwafels had become something of a national obsession.

Related: Amsterdam Do’s and Don’ts: 10 Unwritten Rules That Every Amsterdammer Knows

Today, more than 22 million packets of stroopwafels are eaten every year in the Netherlands, which equates to about 30 stroopwafels per person. If you lined them all up in a long trail of cookies, it would be long enough to circle the earth—one hell of a sugar rush. They’re so popular that they’re served as in-flight snacks on the Netherlands’ national airline KLM; favored by Dutch endurance athletes as a palatable, high-energy snack; and sold in supermarkets all over Europe. But nothing beats a freshly baked stroopwafel, Roza assured us. “Those of you who have only had the supermarket version, you’re in for a surprise!”

So, this is probably my cue to admit that I’m one of the uninitiated few who had never eaten a fresh stroopwafel prior to the workshop. Despite having traveled to Amsterdam several times before, I’d always been put off by the excessively long lines that seemed to form at the mere whiff of a waffle stand. Walking through the Albert Cuyp Market to the workshop that morning, we’d passed a stroopwafel stall with a queue that stretched so far back I couldn’t even see the end. It crossed my mind that I’d much rather spend 45 minutes here making my own stroopwafels than spending arguably the same amount of time waiting in line. (Because, yes, this is a workshop that you can easily squeeze into even a short Amsterdam trip.)

Related: Food in Amsterdam: 10 Quintessentially Dutch Dishes and Where To Eat Them

Once the instruction portion of the workshop was over, it was our turn to try our hand at making stroopwafels. We headed back to our individual cooking stations, where about 10 minutes earlier, after donning our branded aprons and gloves, we’d each been handed a bowl of pre-prepared mixture. Initially, I admit to being disappointed with how easy it was—I thought we were going to make them from scratch, yet all we had to do was add water and mix.

However, Roza explained that the traditional yeast-based recipe requires at least an hour to rise and is highly perishable; the time-saving recipe that we were using meant that we could get straight to the fun part (after all, who really wants to sit around for an hour waiting for dough to rise?!). Besides, we were given the full recipe after the class anyway, so I could always try recreating them again at home if I really wanted the full DIY feel.

Before we were let loose on the waffle irons, Roza inspected our dough, ensuring that it was smooth, shiny, and ready to bake, and had us split it in half, so we could make two waffles each. Spirits were high as we queued up to take our turn, watching as the first brave few participants tested out the instructions with varying degrees of elegance. With four waffle presses between us, we were waiting just long enough to grab coffees from the self-service station and admire the artwork adorning the kitchen walls—the waffle-themed re-envisioning of The Last Supper was particularly memorable.

Finally, it was my turn, and I carefully placed my dough in the press, waiting patiently with my spatula at the ready. Naturally, I’d been concentrating so hard on remembering all the other instructions that I completely forgot to set the timer, but thankfully, Roza was on hand to swoop in and rescue my waffle before it was too late. The rest of the process went smoothly; it sliced open easily and even stayed put on the spatula as I managed to get the hot caramel just about everywhere other than my hands, which I took as a win!

Next came my favorite part: decorating the stroopwafel. “Adding toppings has really only become popular in the last 5–10 years,” Roza admitted, joking that things had changed since “the stroopwafel became Insta-famous.” With that in mind, she encouraged us to get creative—there was a whole decoration station laid out with melted chocolate and a selection of sprinkles, chopped nuts, and crumbled cookies to which we could help ourselves—but she also advised us to try our second stroopwafel the traditional way. (Our stroopwafels would last at least a few days, although there was little chance that I’d be able to resist eating them for that long.) The absolute best way to enjoy your stroopwafel, she insisted, was to: “Eat it plain, warm, and fresh—the way Dutch people do.”

The seasoned traveler in me wanted to embrace the local way. I imagined Roza watching on, bemused like the French when they see tourists layering butter and jam onto their croissants. But I still couldn’t resist slathering my first stroopwafel with a thick half-moon of milk chocolate and an artful dusting of crumbled Speculoos cookies that looked impressive enough for the photos that, yes, I posted to Instagram afterward. Sometimes you just have to embrace the fun of being a tourist.

My second stroopwafel, however, I kept plain and took home with me. The next morning, I followed Roza’s advice and placed it over my coffee cup, letting the steam heat up the syrup until it was soft, warm, and just the perfect amount of gooey. The verdict? Well, as the Dutch would say: “lekker.” Delicious.

This tour was provided courtesy of Viator.