Greek Grandmother 101
This past Saturday we had our friends Lisa, Lawrence, and their three lovely bairns over for dinner. As far as I know, none of them are Greek. But since there isn't a single Greek restaurant in our town, Lisa has learned to make kick-ass Greek food. I once tried to make spanikopita and it was not one of my shining moments in the kitchen. The layers never browned and were dry where they were dry and mushy in other places, which should never occur with filo dough. I am also not Greek.Lisa made baklava the last time we were at their house for dinner and it was better than any baklava I have ever eaten. You'd be surprised to know how much baklava I have actually eaten since I'm not Greek. I have to conclude that, as is so often the annoying case, baklava made and eaten fresh is far superior to the kind you buy that has sat around for a few days. Lisa agreed to teach me to make it. She took pictures of the process too and as soon as I'm done here I am going over to her blog Morning Glory Essentials to see if she actually prints the recipe. You should follow me over there.
But before I show let you in on my Greek Grandma class, observe the food in the artful picture above. Is it not scrumptious? That was my contribution to the dinner. (Lisa also made Greek salad which was superb, but my photo was not good, so I left it out.) I made Greek potatoes whose secret lies in the use of lemon juice with copious quantities of olive oil, and obviously some fresh oregano which you should have growing in your yard already. There's really no excuse not to.
I said there's really no excuse not to.
I also made mushrooms in tomato sauce whose secret to deliciousness lies in the use of white wine and dill with rosemary for seasoning. Have you ever eaten food in a restaurant that had a tomato sauce with an oily sheen and it was so good but you've never been able to figure out how to get your tomato sauce to look that way? I know how they do it. It's all in the very liberal use of olive oil coupled with the rather sparing use of tomato paste. Oh my, this dish was so good and distinctly Greek in character. I also roasted some locally grown asparagus. Very tasty.
Mise en place: I love to add a little high class talk to my Greek lessons. I've got to ask Lisa where she got this awesome little bottle of rosewater. She pulled it out of her magic bag of tricks (which she made herself, incidentally) reverently, as though it had been passed down to her by her own grandmother. Walnuts are obviously a key ingredient to baklava. I wish I had a nut grove of my own that didn't include a single hazel nut tree. I loathe hazel nuts.*"I'm going to go float around my nut grove in the dewy hours of morning..." I just like the way that sounds. NUT GROVE. Shouldn't everyone have a nut grove?
First you cut your rolled out sheets of filo dough**and then cut them in half.
This is an action shot of Lisa brushing melted butter on the successive sheets of filo which you add in layers of two. Generous use of butter is essential to the baklava experience. If you skimp on the butter: YOU WILL FAIL "GREEK GRANDMOTHER 101". You've left your girlish figure behind by now anyway, it's time to embrace black dresses, sturdy shoes, head scarves, and you must never be seen again in public without an apron on. So go on...brush that butter on like you mean it!
Between the layers of filo you must sprinkle layers of walnuts that have been tossed with cinnamon.
After all the layers have been added you cut the baklava into the fancy diamond shapes that are traditional. It is very important that you don't go all post modern Greek and do rectangles or- gasp!- squares.
Then you bake this gorgeous mama in the oven on 350 degrees for almost an hour. Right before it's ready to come out you make a sauce of honey, sugar, and rosewater to pour over the desert which you then allow to cool for a long time before eating. This promotes the filo-soaked sweetness that is the allure of baklava. I can't believe how easy this is to make. I think I'm ready to wear all black again***and embrace my inner Greek Grandma. Which shouldn't be hard since I have a low forehead and impressive brows, by which I mean to say that they would grow as one if allowed to express themselves naturally. Which they aren't.*this is the hazel nut capital of the country, in case you didn't know it.
**Which you only made yourself if you're way crazier than me. Which I'm pretty sure you're not.
***I used to be referred to as a "death rocker", though I never once called myself one. If you are too young to know what a "death rocker" is, it's the equivalent of a "goth".
