Hey baklava girl... are you ready to marry?

The morning walk to Moscow Farmers' Market that Saturday had a surprise in store for me. I was showing my visiting parents the place that was hosting my new student adventures, when I heard an unfamiliar voice greeting me enthusiastically.

"Hey, I know you!" cheered a middle aged typical American male figure.

"I know you..." he continued. "You are the baklava girl!"

The Greek exhibition at the fair

As I explained to my parents this polite, but still strange man, was merely one of the many visitors of the booth representing Greece, I was holding in the International Students' Fair every year. The Fair was celbrating diversity among the world cultures and as a genuine Greek hostess I was treating my guests with a sweet bite of baklava. 

My guest's fervent greeting indicated two facts. First, my pastry cooking made a lasting impression on my booth vistors. Second, not only my cooking made me recognizable, but I had a nickname in the little town of Moscow, Idaho: the baklava girl! 

Baklava rolls (photo by Aditya Abburi)

The first question that might come to mind is how can a Greek girl, like me, be associated with a dessert that is Turkish, or at least Middle-Eastern. The truth is that the origin of baklava has been an issue of dispute among many countries in the areas around Greece. This sweet delicacy has been yet another reason for disagreement between Greeks and Turks. Who invented it first and who prepares it better? Both sides trace its roots in ancient desserts, like the Greek plakous, a pie with nuts and honey, or the treat from the Mongolian tradition, güllac. While one and the other historians have reasons to argue, they are probably engaging in a vain debate, as the  combination of dough, nuts and sweetening agent is one of the oldest recipes all around the globe.

Turkish version of baklava with pistachios
(photo retrieved from http://www.athinorama.gr)

The Turkish version of baklava is green. Thinly rolled phyllo dough wrapping a healthy serving of chopped pistachios, plunged in a sugar based ambrosial syrup create a divine dessert that has become the culinary symbol of Turkey. Thus, it was only fair that the Gaziantep baklava, named after the town that produces it, gained a protected status by the European Union, a title awarded only to a few products outside the official European boarders. 

Diamond-shaped baklava
(photo retrieved from http://ntrimy-oisydagesthsgiagias.blogspot.gr)

On the other side, Greeks choose the earthy colors of walnuts in combination with almonds for their baklava. On my island Lesvos, in particular, baklava is prepared on special occasions using only blanched almonds. One of those occasions is no other than the engagement. According to tradition, the bride has to prepare a big tray of baklava in order to please the groom's mother. Only if the mother in law is content with the result can she approve the wedding.



The cooking of baklava is a highly technical preparation, in which timing and choice of ingedients are crucial. The dough has to be paper thin, the almonds blanched and chopped correctly, the oil chosen among the finest qualities, the spices strong enough to flavor the dessert but not overpowering it and the syrup added at the perfect time to sweeten the dough, but still keep it crispy. The girl who manages to produce a perfectly balanced baklava can be consided ready to perform flawlesly in the kitchen and cater for her new household. If this tradition contradicts the fundamental premises of feminism, keep in mind that deep down Greek society is matriarchal. Thus, it is not just the future of a bride that is hidden between the layers of a diamond-shaped piece of baklava, but her ability to rule the family as well.

My skills regarding the preparation of baklava definitely made an impression on Moscow town dwellers. If I were a chef, I would probably claim that to be my signature dish. Whether my culinary aptitude on this matter proclaim me ready to enter the kingdom of mariage ... or not, will not be debated in this article. For the moment I will keep treating friends and visitors with the delight of a piece of baklava.      

 

Gözleme, Lesbian style

     First session in the Cultural Diversity in the Media class and I am a Teaching Assistant. The assignment is simple: introduce yourself by sharing some information about your culture. I stand in front of my students, a rather representative sample of the American melting pot, and I deliver my introductory statement. "Hello! My name is Eleonora and I am a Lesbian".
    My writing coach in high school always told me that if I want to get the attention of my audience all I need is a strong opening line. He was right. After my introduction there was this vast silence, instantly followed by 40 jaws dropping and 40 pairs of eyes, filled with an amalgam of shock and curiosity, staring at me.
     In order to comfort my students' distress and fulfill their curiosity, I explained to them that being a Lesbian has nothing to do with my sexual orientation, but rather it is a matter of my descent. I grew up on the island of Lesvos (or Lesbos in its alternative spelling), thus, due to my origin I am called a Lesbian, like every other woman or man that live on this island. Although the name of the island habitants raises a big debate between the locals and the female homosexual community, I personally find this common misconception whimsical.

                                             The island of Lesvos (in Red) on the Greek map


The recipe for today is the Lesbian style gözleme, which is popular delicacy on the island.

Groceries                              Dairy section                               Herb garden

1lb all-purpose flour                1lb feta cheese                              Fresh Spearmint leaves

2 Tsp Greek olive oil                (preferably sheep-milk feta)            (or dried leaves)

   plus more for frying              

1 tsp white wine vinegar           2 eggs

 (or ouzo)

1 cup of water

For the dough

In a bowl add warm water, 2 Tsp of olive oil and vinegar. Shift in the flour and mix until you get some soft dough. Add more flour if the dough sticks to the sides of the bowl. Cover the bowl with a clean towel and let it rest for an hour.

For the filling

Lightly beat the eggs and crumble the feta cheese with a fork. If you are using fresh spearmint, finely chop it. If the spearmint is dry, chip it with your fingers. Mix all the ingredients together.

Making the eyes of the angel

Cover your working station with a thin layer of flour. With a rolling pin roll thin rounds of dough. Make sure the dough is very thin. There is no standard size for the gözleme, so you choose the size of the dough circle, according to the portion you wish to serve.

Envision the dough circle as divided into two half-moons. Add a Tablespoon of the filling on the first half-moon and cover it with the other, creating a perfect eye-shaped envelope. Press the edges of the eye with your fingers or a fork, so that they stick together.

Alternative shape – Making an envelope

Stretch the dough with the help of a pasta machine, as if you were making ravioli. Again the dough has to be stretched very thinly. Cut the dough in rectangular shapes.

Add a Tsp of filling in the middle of the rectangle. Connect all four edges right in the center of the rectangle, creating an envelope. Press the edges of the envelope to stick together.

                               Envelope-shaped gözleme

Frying

Heat the olive oil in a heavy pan. When the oil is really hot fry the gozleme.

If you are making the envelope-shaped gozleme, make sure you fry first the side where the edges connect. In this case, the hot oil will seal the connecting points of the envelope and the filling won’t run in the pan. Then fry the other side.

Take the gözleme out of the pan when they are turned golden brown from both sides.

Serve when they are warm with a sprinkle of spearmint and a shot of ouzo.

Food for the stomach or food for the eye?

     In one of our outings on the Greek island of Lesvos, me and my friends are seating quietly at a restaurant by the sea. I think we are following Ilya’s footsteps in Never on Sunday and after a long day of roaming in the country “we all go to the seashore”! The restaurant is great, one of the most famous on the island for its charming environment and its delectable cuisine. Our order of appetizers included the local delicacy, the gözleme. 

                                        The Greek actress Melina Mercouri as Ilya in the movie Never on Sunday (1960)

    Gözleme is a fine example of culinary traditions crossover in the Mediterranean basin. It is the typical street food in Turkey. Its name is as divine as its taste. “Göz al-melek”, the root of the word, means the eye of an angel and it is probably given by its eye shape, in combination with its ambrosial taste. The origin on this delicacy makes circles around the Aegean Sea, from Ancient Greece to the Byzantine kitchens and the great chefs of Ottoman Topkapi Palace, and then back to the islands of the North Aegean. On the culinary world map, the gözleme is considered a typical Turkish dish. However, the Mytilenians, residents of the Greek island of Lesvos, take tremendous pride in their gözleme. It is featured in the menu in the majority of the local restaurants. Plus, every summer, there is the Gözleme festival on the bay of Mystegna, a small fisherman village, where the local ladies cook a vast amount of these pastries to treat the visitors.

     The gözleme is a simple thinly-rolled piece of dough stuffed with a wide range of fillings, such as meat, vegetables or cheese and cooked on the griddle. The Mytilenean version though is fried and the filling is exclusively made of cheese. What makes this gözleme unique is that the cooks here have a variety of delicious cheeses to choose from for the stuffing. The traditional feta cheese, which features a distinct taste due to the local sheep milk, the ladotyri, a sheep milk cheese stored in olive oil, and the myzithra, a soft white cheese with a smooth taste, are only a few of the dairy products the local cooks use in their recipes. Additionally, instead of the typical griddle cooking, Mytileneans fry their gözleme in olive oil, which they find in abundance on the island. Lesbian olive oil has a light texture, is smoother to the taste buds, with a fruity aftertaste and a golden yellow color that pleases the eye. This smoothness is often considered a weakness, compared to other varieties of Greek olive oil. However, in frying the gözleme, this particular olive oil is delicate enough not to overpower the flavor of the cheese, but at the same time strong to make all the other flavors explode in your mouth.

                                    Mytilenean style gözleme (Photo retrieved from www.radiokaloni.gr)

     Back to the seashore, where me and my friends are engaged in a vivid conversation, waiting for our gözleme. The dish is finally served and it tastes deliciously. Still, one of our companions is clearly unhappy. My friend Eleni is whining about the size of the portion. How could a 7-inch half moon shaped pie be enough to feed five people? We tried to comfort her by saying that size is not always important, and that in this case the taste was more than satisfactory, but our arguments fell through.

     Despite of all the concerns, at the end of the meal we, including Eleni, were all full and our appetites were satisfied, regardless of the size of the portions. However, something about the eyes of the angel was not enough to satisfy the eyes of Eleni (probably the rest of us too, even though we did not voice it loudly). Thus, the question that rose was: should the food satisfy the stomach or the eye?

     Opinions are definitely split. On one side there are those who support that the world is full of people struggling to win their food that the way it looks on a plate is of minor importance. On the other hand, the artistic people and food stylists in the culinary universe say that well-plated food can please the eater and satisfy her soul. Scientists have also shown that the judgment on whether the food tastes good relies primarily on our visual capabilities. In other words, we know when a dish will satisfy us when we see it, even if we cannot taste it or even smell it.

     Of course, there is always the Greek way. For the Greeks, the visual cue for liking a dish is triggered by the abundance of food. When the table is full and there is a considerable variety of dishes, then the eaters are satisfied. Plating might not always be a decisive factor, as long as the eye catches a plethora of bites.

     Thinking back to the dinners I had at my American friends’ houses, there is a considerable difference in the amount of food that is put on the table for the guests. Truth to be told, I had the most delicious and fulfilling meals at my friends houses. But what was always getting my attention was that for a casual dinner, the cook was preparing just enough food to serve a big portion to everybody, and nothing more. As if leftovers would cast a foul spell on the fridge. As a person that had to clean the fridge from bad smelling food countless times, I understand the point of this no-leftover tactics.

     For a Greek cook though, having people over means cooking for an army, even though she might expect a handful of friends. I remember my American professor, whenever I was inviting his family for dinner he would say: “Please, don’t cook a lot! Just a simple dish would do”. I never took his request into consideration. There was always plenty of food on the table, because the Greeks always cook a portion for the stranger, in case somebody shows up at our doorsteps unexpectedly. Once again the xenia of Zeus makes a royal appearance in our hosting tactics. 

     I recognize the advantages of both hosting practices and I cannot really decide which one is better. Perhaps I don’t want to, as I respect both cultures. For the time, I will enjoy a big portion of homemade gözleme with my little nephew, hoping that it would please both our eyes and our palates.