A HARTE APPETITE: GOOD BAKLAVA HAS ITS OWN SOUND: A HUSH

An assortment of baklavas.

Burhan Cagdas, a third-generation pastry-maker in the city of Gaziantep, the pistachio capital of Turkey, likes to tell the story about two feuding 19th century families who specialized in baklava, the layered dessert of thin filo pastry (also spelled fillo or phyllo) and nuts drenched in honey or flavored syrup. As he recounted the story recently for the Los Angeles Times, the son of one family married the daughter of the other. After the groom took his new in-laws a tray of baklava, in keeping with wedding etiquette, the father of the bride gathered his seven sons together and asked them what was wrong with it.

One suggested that the syrup was too thick, another that improperly clarified butter had been used, and still another that the pastry was too damp. One by one, each critiqued the dish. But the father said, "No, you are all wrong. The correct answer is: When you bite into a baklava, it should go hush, but this one goes moojook."

As this story suggests, a well made baklava feels and therefore sounds different than one that has been made ineptly. It is delicate and crisp, not soggy. You can almost sense each individual layer of filo as you bite into it. The story also reveals that in Turkey they take baklava seriously.

It shouldn't be surprising that Turks are passionate about baklava, for they invented it. Variations of the dessert are now found in Syria, Lebanon, Greece (where it was traditionally served at Easter, made with forty layers of pastry to represent the forty days of Lent) and neighboring countries. But it was in the kitchens of Istanbul's Topkapi Palace where the sweet was first concocted.

On a recent pilgrimage to the palace I stood amid its 10 double kitchens (two were reserved exclusively for desserts), which now house the finest collection of Ming Dynasty porcelain outside of China, and tried to imagine what it must have been like some 500 years ago when baklava was first created for the Sultans of the Ottoman Empire. Hundreds of cooks scurried about creating all manner of exotic dishes, preparing meals for as many as 20,000 people a day, and in the process developing a cuisine that rivals French or Cantonese. I could picture in my head the grand Baklava Procession conducted annually by Suleyman the Magnificent to honor his palace guards. Others may envy the Sultans their vast wealth, or, perhaps, their harems, but I am jealous of their culinary riches.

Though baklava was created only 500 years ago, as confirmed "filophile" Marti Sousanis, author of "The Art of Filo," points out, its roots can be traced back another 500 to when nomadic Turks in Central Asia developed the habit of stacking an unleavened tortilla-like bread called yufka (the same word used today to refer to a single sheet of filo) with butter and other fillings. Gaining access to ovens, they began filling these bundles (baklava means "a bundle") with nuts and baking them, and a few centuries later they hit upon the idea of stretching the dough until it was paper-thin. And the rest, as they say, is history. Filo dough itself, by the way, went on to become the base for strudel when the Turks invaded Hungary, and, as Rose Levy Beranbaum, author of the Pie and Pastry Bible tells us, it is the mother of French puff pastry as well.

Most people are familiar with baklava made with walnuts and cut into diamond shapes. But at the 128-year old baklava shop run by the Gulluoglu family in Istanbul (reputed to be the best in the city) I discovered that there are many kinds of fillings and shapes. Besides baklava with walnut stuffing (cevizli), there is baklava with pistachio nuts (fistikli) and baklava with clotted cream (kaymakli), to name just a few. Almonds are another popular stuffing and I know of at least one bakery, near Boston, that uses cashews. Sousanis even reports an Ethiopian version made with peanuts! As to shapes, besides the familiar diamonds, baklava can be rolled up like a cigar, cut into wedges, or coiled into nests called bulbul yuvasi (nightingales' nests).

Examining this myriad of baklavas, you might conclude that making the dessert at home would be rather daunting. It can be, but it needn't be as I discovered in talking with one of Cape Girardeau's most gracious hostesses and the best baklava maker I know, Beverly Noffel. She comes by her baklava skills honestly, being of Lebanese descent, and can even recall grandparents making their own filo dough. Over decades and countless pans of baklava she has perfected the process and offers the following tips.

First, use fresh filo dough if possible. If the dough has been frozen, the leaves may stick together and tear when pulled apart. This is especially true if the dough has been allowed to thaw and refreeze in the grocer's case, an all too common occurrence. In using frozen dough, however, I have discovered that little tears here and there, as long as they are not gaping, really don't matter that much in the final product. But fresh dough is much more fun and far less frustrating.

Second, filo leaves should be well coated with melted butter so they don't dry out, but they should not be sopping or the finished product will be greasy. Clarified unsalted butter (where the milk solids and water have been allowed to separate out) is preferable when making baklava because the reduced water content abets a crisp baked dough. (This is just the opposite of puff pastry where unclarified butter with its extra water content is needed to create steam to separate the layers.)

Third, chill the assembled baklava before baking and bake until very golden. Avoid underbaking.

Fourth, always put cool syrup on hot baklava. The reverse will work too, but a contrast in temperatures is crucial if the baklava is to soak up all the syrup.

Finally, Beverly recommends being orderly and systematic. Clarify the butter, make the syrup, and chop the nuts in advance and have all of your materials at hand in an uncluttered work space. Then you can work efficiently before the unused dough dries out, which it quickly will, to the point of shattering, if not covered with a damp towel.

Your first attempts at baklava may not be worthy of a sultan's table, but using these tips you'll discover that preparing this regal sweet is not as difficult as you might imagine. The following recipes are designed to give you plenty of practice.

Baklava

This classic recipe is adapted from Rose Levy Beranbaum's The Pie and Pastry Bible. She swears by pistachio nuts, but almonds, walnuts, or a mixture can also be used.

Ingredients:

12 tablespoons clarified butter

1 1/2 cups nuts

1 1/4 cup sugar, divided

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

12 sheets filo

1/2 cup water

6 tablespoons honey

1 tablespoon light corn syrup

1 tablespoon lemon juice

Directions:

Mix 1 cup sugar, water, honey, and syrup and bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring constantly. Lower heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, 30 minutes. Add lemon juice and let cool. Chop nuts finely and add cinnamon and remaining 1/4 cup sugar. Lightly coat a 9 x 13-inch pan with some butter. Brush one sheet filo with 1 teaspoon butter and fold in half to fit pan. Brush with another teaspoon butter. Lay a total of 4 folded sheets in pan, bushing each with 2 teaspoons butter in this manner. Spread half of nut mixture in pan and top with 2 more folded and buttered filo sheets. Sprinkle remaining nut mixture over top and add 6 more folded and buttered filo sheets. Score top sheets of filo into diamond pattern using sharp knife. Bake at 300 degrees for 30 minutes or until golden. Spoon syrup over baklava and let stand until absorbed.

Chocolate Date-Nut Baklava

This recipe adapted from Bon Appetit magazine is so decadent you might as well go all out and serve it with ice cream!

Ingredients:

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

1/2 cup water

pinch of ground allspice

pinch of ground ginger

pinch of ground cloves

2 cups walnuts

1 cup chocolate chips

1 cup pitted dates

1 tablespoon cinnamon

1 egg

11 sheets filo

1 1/2 sticks clarified butter

Directions:

Bring 1 cup sugar, water, and allspice, ginger, and cloves to boil, stirring until sugar dissolves. Boil 1 minute and cool completely. Combine nuts, chocolate, dates, remaining 2 tablespoons sugar, and cinnamon in processor and coarsely chop. Mix in egg by hand. Lightly butter 9 x 13-inch pan. Brush 1 sheet filo with butter. Top with second sheet, brush with butter, and arrange in pan. Brush another sheet filo with butter, fold in half, brush with butter, and place in pan. Repeat with another 2 sheets filo. Sprinkle half of filling over top. Butter another sheet filo, fold in half, and place on top of filling. Sprinkle remaining filling over top. Place three more buttered and folded filo sheets over top. Butter remaining 2 sheets filo and place lengthwise in pan, tucking in sides and ends. Score top layers of filo into squares and bake at 350 degrees until golden, about 45 minutes. Spoon syrup over, cool, and let stand overnight at room temperature.

Pineapple-Cheese Baklava

This recipe, from a little paperback book by Sylvia Schur published twenty years ago, is really a cross between cheesecake and baklava and offers a tasty change of pace from the nut-filled versions of the sweet.

Ingredients:

1 can (20 ounce) crushed pineapple

1 cup ricotta cheese

8 ounces softened cream cheese

1 cup sugar, divided

2 egg yolks

1 teaspoon grated lemon peel

1 teaspoon vanilla

8 filo leaves

1 stick clarified butter

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Directions:

Strain juice from pineapple and reserve. Mix together ricotta, cream cheese, 1/2 cup sugar, egg yolks, peel, and vanilla. Stir in drained pineapple. Place 1 sheet filo in well-greased 9 x 13-inch pan and brush with butter. Repeat using three more leaves. Spread cheese mixture over pastry. Top with remaining filo leaves, brushing each with butter. Mark pastry into diamonds and bake 50 minutes at 350 degrees until golden brown. Combine reserved syrup, remaining 1/2 cup sugar, and lemon juice. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cook to a thick syrup. Spoon over baklava. Cool.

Got a culinary question you'd like to ask or an idea you'd like to see treated in this column? Send your suggestions to A Harte Appetite, c/o The Southeast Missourian, P.O. Box 699, Cape Girardeau, Mo., 63702-0699 or by e-mail to tharte@semovm.semo.edu.