Reinventing baklava
It’s a mainstay of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cuisines; an export well-loved and well-eaten across the globe.
For something so ubiquitous, it’s a wonder why — and how — no one has really experimented with baklava (I’ve haven’t yet seen a phyllo equivalent of the cronut) and somehow, it’s remained unadulterated, true to its nutstuffed, sweet-syruped form.
“Maybe nobody wants to take a risk?” says Julie Kyriakaki, a local baklava entrepreneur and co-owner of Meli Baklava & Chocolate, a two-year-old company. “We’re trying to be one step ahead.” By that, she means, layering their handmade Greek-style version of the flakey multi-layered pastry with unorthodox ingredients — such as candied oranges, apricots, figs, walnuts, blueberries, pumpkin and spice. Even dipping them in chocolate. Traditionally — and it varies depending on where it originates — baklava is a humble food, fashioned only with nuts, butter and a simple syrup.
Torontonians have been receptive to Meli’s radical ideas about this iconic pastry. The company’s two bakers — working in a Scarborough kitchen with local ingredients — crank out more than1,000 pieces of their inventive baklava weekly (though they do traditional, too). Some of it lands in special orders.
Some is sold at Meli’s storefront on Queen St. W., across from the Bell Media Queen St. building.
It’s the perfect place to be experimental. But, Kyriakaki says, that doesn’t mean sacrificing quality, which is what their business is based upon.
Immigrants from Greece — and impassioned lovers of the country’s national pastry — Kyriakaki and Meli’s three other co-owners were unimpressed with the degradation they say they saw in the quality of today’s baklava.
And no one was customizing this treat — so they saw a niche.
Chef Niki Drakopoulou, an Athens transplant who has been making baklava for more than 25 years, she says, shows off a plate of handmade candied oranges — each slice hand-cut, slowbaked and bathed in homemade syrup. She places the slices among the layers of phyllo dough as she butters each velvety sheet. Once she’s done, the tray is baked and then, after a rest, co-owner chef Tasos Drakopoulos ladles hot syrup overtop from a giant, silver pot filled with liquid honey and caramelizing lemons.
Nearby, trays of baklava — about 40 different flavours in about 10 different shapes and textures ($1.50 to $4.50 per piece) — are as pretty as jewels.
They’re not just good looking. Golden exteriors are paper thin, crisp and light as Aphrodite’s wings. They’re sticky and sweet — but almost weightless to bite. A feat of sugary engineering.
And a new take on an ancient favourite. Got an idea for Sourced? Email mhenry@thestar.ca