Baklava

Are you looking at what I'm looking at? Right now? On the screen??

Woah.

Like, WOAH.

I made it. I baked it. I took a picture of it. I still can't believe it.

I bought phyllo dough. My fingertips got sore from de-shelling three cups' worth of pistachios. There was a whole lot of butter and honey and citrus zest. I ripped the phyllo dough twice. Things got messy.

There was damage control. There was a moment of uncertainty.

And then there was awesomeness.

I...made...baklava! And I more than happily lived to tell the tale....just for you.


Baklava was unexpected. It was a last-minute, Saturday afternoon decision.

I was stressed out over the thought of baking cakes or cookies. I know, I know. 'Twas complicated. Don't ask. But the point is, I was lost. I had to bake a dessert, and I didn't know what.

Baklava was one of those desserts that I had thought to try to make at some time or another, but just never really got around to it. Too complicated, too "new," too blahblahblahh. But then, as with all good things worth achieving, I had to put some faith out there, say a little prayer, then jump in.

See, amazing things can happen with a wee bit of desperation, thoroughness, and plain old grit.

So, here's how the story went:

There were pistachios. Lots of them.

And together with slivered almonds and some walnuts...

 ...they made for the most savory baklava filling.

Along came lemon and orange and cinnamon and honey to make one dreamy, magical, fragrant syrup.

Rest assured there was butter also, that came to rest in room temperature. It then underwent a dramatic transformation, turning into clarified butter. Oh, the stove top process was long indeed. However, having endured the low boiling process, then cleared of the cursed foam on top and the residual white milk solids that sank at the bottom, butter was reborn as the clear, golden liquid it was meant to be in Baklaland.

 'Twas twilight when the fillo dough was unwrapped from its deep slumber inside the box.

Delicate were the sheets, but with a kind, gently handling, they were ready to go.

Alas! An unforeseen evil had caused a lack of a crucial pastry brush, that soft, plastic-bristled friend, famous in melted butterdom. Still, a kind meat/barbecue brush came to the rescue in fast and squeaky-clean fashion. There was hope yet for the baklava.

A gentle handling was required for the very first few sheets of the filo sheet. Easy did it.

 The nuts! Sprinkling away!

As the night grew, so did fatigue and bad picture quality.

When the diamonds finally engraved themselves on the baklava, there was doubt. Oh, yes there was. But the heat of the oven was unavoidable, and so the little pan went, and we closed the door...

(Cue dramatic, suspenseful music)

Out came the baklava, all golden and flaky from the oven. Drenched with the citrus cinnamon syrup and allowed to rest overnight, the baklava was done at last.

And the story goes that all those who peeked at its many layers of flaky, buttery fillo and nuts were instantly filled with joy and happiness. It was said that a piece of this baklava inspired a full day of crazy kitchen dances and random hug fests. As well as many blog blurbs that were embarrassingly exaggerated for one certain, not-to-be-named writer/baker.

So, as with most good stories, this, too, must end the way it should, that someone, somewhere, lived happily ever after, for however long that "ever after" may be. Sometimes we may wonder if only in stories there is such a thing as a happily ever after. But as with good food, a good, memorable experience is inherently good, however short-lived or fleeting it may be. There is an appreciation for the beauty of it, the flicker of excitement in it, however small the spark.

Pistachio Baklava

Ingredients:

For the syrup:

• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 cup water
• 2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice, strained
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1/4 cup orange and lemon zest strips
• 3/4 cup honey

For the filling:

• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1 tsp grated orange zest
• 1 tsp grated lemon zest
• 3 cups pistachio nuts
• 1/2 cup almonds
• 1/2 cup walnuts
• 1 lb filo dough, thawed in the refrigerator if frozen
• 3/4 cup clarified unsalted butter, melted and cooled

Directions:

1.  Position a rack in the middle of the oven, and preheat to 325 F. Butter a 9 by 13 inch baking dish.
2. To make the syrup, in a saucepan over medium heat, combine the sugar, water, lemon juice, cinnamon stick, orange and lemon zest strips, and honey. Bring to a boil and cook, stirring, until the sugar dissolves. Remove from the heat and let cool completely. Remove and discard the cinnamon stick and citrus strips.
3. To make the filling, in a bowl, mash the sugar with the orange and lemon zest. Add the nuts and mix well. Set aside.
4. Place a sheet of parchment paper on a large, dry work surface. Unroll the filo sheets, lay them on the parchment, and cover them with a kitchen towel to prevent them from drying out. Line the prepared dish with 1 filo sheet. If the sheet hangs over the sides of the dish, fold the overhanging layer to fit. Brush the sheet with a thin coating of clarified butter. Repeat with 2 more sheets for a total of 3 sheets. Sprinkle lightly with about 1/2 cup of the nut mixture.
5. Cover the nuts with 2 more filo sheets, brushing each sheet with butter. Sprinkle the filo lightly with about 1/2 cup of the nut mixture. Repeat to use up the remaining filo and nuts, layering and buttering 2 filo sheets and topping with more of the nut mixture. For the final layer, top the baklava with 3 or 4 buttered filo sheets.
6. Using a sharp knife, and cutting only through the top layers of filo, cut on the diagonal across the dish, first from one corner and then from the opposite corner, into diamond-shaped pieces about 1 1/2 inches on each side.
7. Bake the baklava until golden brown, 35 to 40 minutes. Cut the baklava into diamonds, and then pour the syrup over the baklava. Let cool on a wire rack to room temperature before serving. Store in an airtight container for up to 3 days. 

Source: Williams-Sonoma Essentials of Baking