If you eat baklava with a fork, Jeff Ugur has news for you: You’re doing it wrong. Baklava is a finger food. This is crucial, because it helps with his next tasting tip.
“Take the baklava with your hand and turn it over. Upside down,” he says. The fragrant ground nuts and syrup imbibe the bottom layers of phyllo while the pastry is baking and resting, and when you flip it over, the aromas hit your nose for a complete taste-scent symphony. “It starts with the nose,” Ugur says.
Another benefit to the upside-down method: If it’s dusted with pistachios or other nuts, those land directly on your tongue.
And for the finale, lick your fingers. “Maybe not at a state dinner, but if you’re with your friends, without making too many noises, it’s just a part of the whole eating experience of baklava.”
If anyone should know proper baklava chomping procedures, it’s Ugur, who is also known as the Baklava King, thanks to the Santee bakery by that name he runs with his good-humored Czech wife, Sarka. About 10,000 flaky pastries fly out of the ovens every week and land in cafes and restaurants across the country. They also make savory puffs filled with combinations of mozzarella, olives, spinach, cheese and herbs.
You may have seen their nut-filled rolls and triangles at Caffé Calabria, Café Bassam, Luna Grill and The French Gourmet. Other wholesale clients are in Southern California, Colorado and Florida. Retail customers can order online and pick up trays at the bakery.
Ugur’s dream? “To make baklava for a White House event someday.”
One place you won’t see his sweets is a big-box store. “Warehouse baklava,” Ugur sneers, has a shelf life of four months and uses processed sweeteners like corn syrup.
Baklava King
9932 Prospect Ave in Santee
(619) 258-5464
baklavaking.com
Ugur, who has Turkish and Greek ancestors, grew up in Istanbul and discovered his calling at a young age.
“It was always a passion. Baklava itself. You have to love to eat what you’re making. Otherwise, it’s just making a living,” he says.
His mother, who is 90, used to prepare trays for holidays, to celebrate happy news or when guests came from faraway places, but because of the intricacy of rolling phyllo dough by hand, baklava is not traditionally regarded as a homemade desert. “It’s a reward,” Ugur says. “Baklava is not something you eat every single day.”
By the time he was 10, he had ranked the quality and style at all the “reputable baklava stores in Istanbul” and enjoyed sharing that information with everyone he met. “I was a baklava critic.”
When he moved to the U.S. for college, he was dumbstruck that he couldn’t find his beloved dessert anywhere. “There was an obvious need for great baklava in America,” he remembers thinking, back in the 1980s.
It was once the dessert of sultans. Lore has it that the version known today was created by royal chefs at Istanbul’s Topkapi Palace. “Well cooked baklava shines like gold,” one food website states. Historic sources also trace versions to ancient Greece, Byzantium, Mesopotamia, Turkish nomads, even China. But baklava has been a hard sell for the American palate, in the hundred years or so since it was imported by Greek immigrants.
Sounding forlorn, Ugur recites the usual dessert menu fare: chocolate lava cake, apple pie, crème brûlée, cheesecake. “Most Americans have a negative opinion of baklava,” he says. “You know why? The recipe problem. People make baklava overly sweet.” Along with corn syrup, some use honey as a sweetener, a faux pas. Diluted in hot water, honey loses its health benefits and the honey’s quality and origin is hard to control, he says. Undiluted, it coats the phyllo instead of penetrating it, resulting in a sticky mess.
Baklava King uses just six ingredients: phyllo, nuts, butter, sugar, lemon and water. The butter has to be high quality, one that won’t release water while baking. The water for the syrup should be filtered for the best taste. They filter it three times, but once is enough for the home baker.
The syrup should be just sweet enough, not so cloying you have to wash it down with coffee to rescue your taste buds. Although coffee, preferably the inky, fragrant Turkish variety, is a welcome touch.
Baklava King’s 40 Layer Baklava
Makes 20 to 24 pieces
For pastry:
1 package of unsalted thin phyllo dough
3/4 pound of ground raw unsalted pistachios or walnuts
3/4 pound (3 sticks?) melted unsalted butter
For syrup:
Two tablespoons of lemon juice (or 1 tablespoon can be replaced with orange zest)
1 1/2 cups filtered water (approximately)
2 cups pure granulated sugar (approximately; this can be adjusted to taste)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. (Temperature may need to be adjusted as baklava bakes, to prevent burning.) Butter a 9-by-13-inch glass baking dish.
Prepare the syrup: Over low heat boil sugar and water. Stir in lemon juice and set aside to cool.
Assemble the baklava: Cut phyllo in half, or as needed to fit inside the baking dish. Working while the phyllo is soft, place 2 sheets and brush lightly with melted butter. Repeat 7 times. Sprinkle half of the nuts across the top buttered sheet, in an even layer. Lay 2 pieces of phyllo, brush with melted butter. Repeat 3 times. Sprinkle the rest of the nuts. Cover with eight double layers of phyllo, alternating with melted butter. (Optional: reserve half a cup of nuts before splitting, to sprinkle on top after baking.)
Cut into triangles or squares and butter the top of the baklava
Bake for 30 minutes, or until golden, adjusting temperature as needed.
Remove from oven and drizzle the syrup gently over every inch of the pastry, while it’s still very hot. It should make a sizzling sound. Let the ensemble rest for 1 to 2 hours. Serve after it has cooled.
