scholarly desserts

The summer that I studied abroad at Oxford, I was ridiculously frugal. The exchange rate was awful, and I was terrified of accruing a giant credit card debt. So I ate the food they served us - which was FANTASTIC, so no regrets there - and I didn't even buy an Oxford sweatshirt. There are some regrets with that. I mean, I lost the opportunity to look all intellectual with the name OXFORD UNIVERSITY splashed across my chest. I kid. Mostly.

There was one thing that I spent money on regularly.  A few steps outside the entrance to St. John's College, where the program was being held, there was this little Greek food kiosk.  I don't remember what it was called, but it was bright blue and always seemed a little out of place on the sidewalk beside the serious, historical stone wall of the college.

Now I'm suspecting it was actually the TARDIS.

My geekery aside, this stand had little pieces of baklava for fifty pence each, which was cheaper than anything else you could buy. Honest.  They were absolutely delicious, and they became the perfect snack for my evening walks by the river.

Someone remind me why I'm not in Oxford anymore?

Anyway, I was thinking of those particular baklava when I embarked on a baking adventure I have been wanting to try for years - which is making my own baklava, of course.

All I have ever heard about making baklava is how really really hard it is. But I soldiered on.

Baklava Filling
(via the box of filo dough)
1 1/2 pounds of walnuts, chopped (almonds or pistachios or another type of nut will also work)
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp cloves
Zest of one lemon

Pastry
A box of frozen filo or phyllo dough.

Syrup
2 cups water
2 cups sugar
1 cup honey
1 lemon peel

Preheat oven to 350

I will admit right now - I had to look up what exactly the "zest" of a lemon was.  Despite baking being the most prominent topic on my blog thus far, I am not an experienced baker. (If you, reader, also do not know, it's the yellow part of the peel grated into little pieces. But not the white part of the peel, because that can be bitter.) (Another paranthetical: If you're trying to actually follow the recipe, I added step numbers to my ramblings so you can follow along.)

1. Once I figured out the whole zesting business, I mixed all of the filling ingredients into bowl and didn't get a great picture of it, so we'll move on.

The next step is arranging the phyllo (or filo) dough.  The words "phyllo dough" are met with groans and winces from those who have worked with it before. I learned that this is for a very good reason.

Working with phyllo dough is like taking the pages of a Bible or a dictionary and making them larger and more delicate, then trying to move them one by one from one spot to another without tearing any of them, and then laying them flat on top of each other.  See the photo above for an idea of what you have to work with.

2. With baklava, you first line the bottom of a 9x13 pan with 20 sheets of phyllo. You cannot count them out and plop them in.  You must spray the top of each individual sheet with cooking spray. It's tedious, and a little stressful.  But the end result is worth it, trust me.

3. After the first twenty layers, spread half of the filling across the top.  Then add 5 more sheets of phyllo dough, and on top of that, the rest of the filling.  Fifteen sheets of phyllo top it off.

The filling before the final layer of phyllo:

4. Today in What-Natalie-Forgot-While-Baking:  the pan of baklava should be scored into squares and then triangles before going in the oven.  I remembered about seven minutes in, and only managed to cut it into squares, because it was already getting a little crispy.

5. The actual baking specs: 45 minutes to an hour at 350 degrees.

6. Near the end of that, mix up the syrup (ingredients listed at the top), bring it to a boil, then let it simmer for about 10 minutes. Drain (because as much as the lemon peel adds, we don't actually want it in the baklava).

 

8. Once both pastry and syrup have cooled a bit, pour the syrup over the pastry. 

9. After it's all cooled off, cut into pieces where you scored it earlier.  Cut thoroughly.  With a very sharp knife.  The problem with all the layers is that if you miss cutting just one of them, it's a huge mess.  A huge, delicious mess that you will end up eating.

I have to say, with my apologies to the Greek food kiosk in Oxford, this baklava totally blew theirs out of the water. I had to take it into work just so I didn't eat a plate a day for dinner!