Hi, my name is Farah and I’ve become a baklava snob. It’s not my fault, I’m channelling Goldilocks in search of the “just right”, except my “just right” happened first. So, it’s been hard to divert my full attention elsewhere, my heart has already been wooed.
I couldn’t quite tell you when I had my first baklava, but it was probably when I started eating solids (you may laugh, but this is pretty likely).
Somewhere in the land between, cake, pie, and dessert, baklava stands tall and quite impressively at that. Baklava for my family, like for so many others, marks the end of , the beginning of either or – a special time that is also a pastry celebration of syrupy proportions. It really is the perfect “spoon(s) of sugar” to go with a cup of black kahva.
It would be impossible for me to not be lured by a tray of baklava and you can taste just how much love goes into each layer. It symbolises sweet traditions and even sweeter stories for so many. Baklava, each family holds their own recipes, secret twists and the "it factor" and what everyone sees as their own homemade classic - everyone's is simply the best, right? What is synonymous with all baklava makers (and lovers) is abundance and the simple gesture of sharing it. I knew it was almost near, Eid, if a 2kg bag of walnuts was sitting on the kitchen bench. It felt like such an important time to come together and celebrate with family and friends - to eat, to laugh and to eat some more (even though my family never quite needed a special occasion to do it). We wanted our kitchen to be a gateway to those around us, who may not have known us. I mean really know us. Layers of filo pastry, spiced syrup and chopped nuts - this was that gateway every Eid al-Fitr.
This Eid al-Fitr not only do I get to watch my mama make her classic tray once again, but I finally get her in front of a camera to film it. I will forever cherish the laughter, banter, bickering, lessons and complete passion we share when we get together in the kitchen, but most of all I appreciate those occasions when she eats out of my tray while I scoop out of hers.
Every birthday was synonymous with Mama's grand four-layer buttercream torte, just like every Eid had syrupy baklava by its side. What can I say, we’re a family of feeders and eaters and I may be biased, but I know that anyone who comes into contact with a piece of mama’s baklava is guaranteed to live his or her best-eating life as well.
After 50 years, mama's baklava game is simple
So what is it about her baklava that excites me most?
The tirit. The buttery-baked crumb is mixed with walnuts to form the filling – the ingredient that is crucial to the moist and creamy texture of the layers. Mama still uses an old-school cheese grater to mill her walnuts and she's had it since she first came to the country, with no imminent plans to switch it for a food processor any time soon.
Also, the texture of the spiced syrup is spot on. When I was a child, I would stand on my tip-toes, hands on the bench so I could get a glimpse of that final pour-over. I always remember it making me smile because it was then when the magic happened. The soaking of each layer, the sizzling sound of crackling pastry and the seeping - or as my mama says “the thirsty pastry needing a drink” - would all come together. It was at this moment that I knew it was ready and it was also at this moment that I knew I had a problem.
Moist baklava is where it’s at (let me talk you through this). The key is all in that tirit crumb and the consistency of the spiced syrup. While some prefer the drier, crumbly version, I am soft and syrupy all the way home. Don’t be afraid to be tactile with your pastry, your filling, and your layering.
Mama learnt her baklava prowess from her mum and I, too, have been fortunate enough to reap the sweet lessons from her at an early age. One of my mama's most cherished memories was learning to make pastry from scratch from her mama when she was only 15 years old and this is a skill that she holds dear. Cotton sheets would flood our lounge room - draped over chairs and the dining table. This is where she would dry her sheets before taking her thin rolling pin to each sheet. My father crafted a distinct rolling pin, with thin handles with a slightly denser centre, for a more consistent roll. At the age of 68, she now interchanges homemade with storebought due to the frequency and as what she references as, "...years of simply being a mother".
While deep down she shares her aspirations of rectangular trays and layering filo sheets as they come, mama has her own style and bakes hers like she always has, in a deep-dish circular baking tray and cuts her pieces diagonally to form diamond shapes. “It is important to cut the pastry as even as you can. I have been practicing for a very long time and my tip is to make sure you cut it before you bake. You won’t get the same result if you cut it after and your syrup and pastry are wanting to come together straight away, so don’t make it wait any longer,” she tells me.
Ensuring you lightly sprinkle some butter/vegetable oil between each layer of pastry will avoid your sheets sticking together and the clang of the teaspoon hitting the bottom of the enamel cup of butter and oil is a sound I will always associate with my mama.
Make sure you cut your baklava pieces before baking. And remember, opposites attract. Cool syrup poured over hot baklava OR hot syrup poured over cooled baklava. Choose wisely.
Mama loves to eat it straight out of the pan, just like we all do now. And yes, those half-diamond pieces make great taste-testers as they're not quite big enough slices to serve to your guests - there is a method to her circular madness. #wellplayed
