A few weeks ago I was immersed in a fantastic book that focused on 80 countries of the world . The book blended anthropology and nutritional information together to illustrate global differences in various cultures, many of which stem from the world’s food supply. Somewhere in the book, I came across a profile on Greece and saw a photo of baklava.
A friend once clued me in on a Middle Eastern Bakery here in Lacrosse that sells Baklava. For roughly a year now, I have been planning to stop by and purchase some of it and a cup of coffee. Of course my book induced cravings sent me there the other week. Stopping by the store taught me that there are natural punishments for procrastinations. The store had went out of business. No baklava for me! You can probably still see the smear marks in the stores window which I peered into while throwing a pity party.
The first time I ever tasted the sweet flakey goodness of baklava, I was in Paris at a Mosque with my friends Havilah and her husband JB, and their infant son.
Now I associate baklava with being in the Mosque’s restaurant where everything seemed so special in such an intriguing foreign way.
The tiles and the textures of the environment were simply amazing.
And the bakery case with its many choices was tantalizing….
Perhaps, I liked the beauty of the restaurant better than the baking though. It was magical to eat while watching birds fly in and out from a hole in the roof. The grand colors of the place were mesmerizing.
To date, I have still not given up on procuring the pastry. I bought some filo pastry sheets while in town today from the coop, and want to use a recipe from a musty Greek cookbook that was published (and probably not opened since) in the 70’s. I intend to take the time to make it this weekend. Hopefully it turns out well! No recipe, however, can duplicate the special sweetness that I experienced the first time I enjoyed tasting it.