The crunchy, crispy texture that makes a sound when you chew, drenched in sweet syrup, almost golden as the sun, and sweet as honey, but with a very subtle tangy profile of lemon stuffed up to the top (yes, overstuffed is the best) with walnuts, almonds, and pistachio, crispy but it still manages to dissolve in your mouth and it burst like a flavor bomb, yeah you guessed it correct we sure do talking about baklava, the pride of Turkey and Greece and they are battling about who is the real country behind Baklava's origin.
Imagine this, you are sitting in a cafe, you came across enjoying your evening in the street of Athens, and the only reason you entered was the smell coming from the inside of that cafe, and you end up ordering the winter’s best traditional Greek sweet, which happens to be baklava but yeah let alone baklava felt empty so you ordered a cup of Greek coffee that is preparing right in front of you! Bonus point: you’re not just sipping coffee, you’re quietly learning how Greek coffee is made. you were just enjoying and you heard a voice coming behind from you debating whether the Baklava's origin was the Greeks doing or the Turks?
The Aegean Sea has long been not only a sea but also, over an extended period, a culinary boundary between two philosophies of sweetness. Baklava is not just a sticky pastry made of nuts to the uninitiated. It is a complicated building process, with chemistry, and a patriotic dose to those who have to live by the craft.
Let us take off the recipe cards and the personal observations. It is the ultimate fight for the crown of the Baklava's origin between two legends of the Mediterranean, investigating the causes behind the disparity between them, the construction of both structures, and the reason as to why we remain so obsessed with them 3000 years down the line.
The Culinary Physics behind the Baklava's origin
We need to know what the baklava pastry is before we can enter into the debate of the authenticity of origin of the baklava and pitting Greek and Turkish varieties against each other. It is, in essence, a tense study. You have the delicate, dry tension of the dough of phyllo (or yufka) and the liquid tension of the syrup. That is the aim of every good baklava, both in a balanced harmony.
The most difficult thing and the necessary one, because the rest of the ingredients rely on this, is the creation of dough nowadays; there are tons of machines and robots doing it, but the traditional places, they still make it with their bare hands. The key part of the dough or sheets is that they have to be as thin as paper and have no stickiness between them. Fun fact In a professional Turkish kitchen, a "Master" (Usta) is prepared to spend decades learning exactly how much starch to use between the layers so they don't stick, and also remain thin so you can see through it.
Greek philosophy: mountain of layers
The first thing you’ll see once you enter the kitchen of a Greek cafe or bakery is that the size of the baklava is taller than the baklava origin in a Lebanese style, and a bit darker. The reason behind that is how they link food and faith. The layer of phyllo dough, consisting of 33 layers, is also an act of reverence for Christ, who lived for 33 years. Though home cooks recently on go as far as 10 layers, this height is retained by professional Greek cooks. This gives it a distinct mouth feel; since the number of layers is high, the amount of air that is trapped between them is high too. This gives Greek baklava a substantial mouth feel, almost like "pastry steak," which needs to be cut using a fork or a knife.
Significance of Walnut
While you will find pistachios in Greek pastries, but here in the Greek Baklava, walnut dominates. The reason for walnuts is it’s earthy component and bitterness that balances the sweetness of the syrup.
The Honeyed Soul
This is presumably its strongest distinguishing trait. The Greek version of baklava is purely and simply about honey. The syrup consists of a reduction of water, sugar, and a tremendous amount of high-grade Greek honey, typically known as Thyme Honey. In this way, thrice-cooked baklava has "a long taste." The sugar syrup gives an instant boost and an instant departure; honey stays and lingers. It glides over your throat and through your nose, leaving "a sticky and sweet sensation, reminiscent of Hellenistic tradition."
The Turkish Philosophy: Precision and golden crispy texture
If Greek baklava is rustic and hearty, then Turkish baklava is a precision mix of flavors. In Turkey, especially in the "Baklava Capital of the Country," a city called Gaziantep, locals handle baklava as some fine wine.
The Green Filling
The Turkish baklava’s colors are renowned worldwide too. The bright and eye-catching green isn’t food coloring; it’s the Antep Pistachio, which is considered a part of the Turkish Baklava's origin. These pistachios are also harvested while young and full of oil and taste. The Turkish "throw-down" doesn’t feature pistachio hiding behind spices either. No cinnamon and cloves for this baklava. The reason for that is that "if you have the world’s greatest pistachios, then no spice needs to be talking.
The Butter Factor
While in other parts of the world they do use oil, the “gold standard”, but Baklava's origin of Turkey use clarified butter also known as Sade Yağ, or what’s more commonly known in American cooking as ghee, typically prepared from the milk of sheep or goats. The ghee or clarified butter is strained until only the pure fat is left, eliminating the milk solids, which could flare up during cooking. This gives the pastry a scent that is like grazing in a field, and the richness that is not greasy.
The "Sizzle" Technique
One technique that the Turkish baker excels at is the concept of “syrping,” where they rely on a sugar syrup that has been boiled to the “thread” stage. Their intention is not to give the pastry a honeyed taste but to generate a glass-like residue that helps retain the crunch from the 40+ layers. Even the “hiss” sound that Turkish baklava pastry gives off while pouring the warm syrup onto the warm pastry is the noise of the steam being released while the sugar is left to crisp the edges.
The Syrup Debate: Honey or Sugar
“Sweet is sweet,” when it comes to simple diners. But for connoisseurs of brand extensions, sweetener choices mean selections of identity.
Greek Honey Syrup:
This is thick and floral. “This is what gives the baklava its wetness and density.” “This is a dessert dish I associate with drinking water, ice-cold water.” This tastes ancient, like a remedy. A comfort experience.
Turkish Sugar Syrup:
It's crystalline and cutting. It's meant to be the "clear" sweetness that is the magnifying glass for the pistachios and the butter. This provides the dish with a lighter texture that contains a crunch but will not sit heavily within the stomach.
Plot twist: Baklava's origin dates back to the Assyrians
In any Greek vs. Turkish showdown, it's only fitting to give props to their unsung ancestor: The Assyrians. History shows that people from the ancient Assyrian Empire date as far back as the 8th Century BC and were already placing chopped nuts and honey between flatbreads and baking them in wood-fired ovens.
The Greeks and Turks did not "invent" baklava, but rather perfected this delicacy. The Greeks introduced what they called "phyllo" (which means "leaf" in Greek), and their dough, which started as a dough akin to a type of bread, became what we now recognize as "leaf" thin pastry dough. The Turks, during their rule by the Ottoman Empire, created this as an art form in the Topkapi Palace’s kitchens, where "Baklava Parades" took place in celebration of the Janissaries.
The Final Sizzle: Who Claims the Crown?
So, where did baklava originate from, and who really is the true holder of the title of Baklava's origin? Having pursued the books together, we learned about the distorted history of baklava. While the Greeks gave us the heavenly thinness of the phyllo dough and the Turks made it an art worthy of the palace, the owners of the baklava's origin prize are the Assyrians.
