Truly, the King of Pastries

If you’re of a certain age, what I’m going to write next will likely disgust you.

We’re further in time right now from 1982 than 1982 was from Pearl Harbor. I’ll give ya a moment to let that soak in……………………As someone who was 16 in ’82, believe me, I feel your pain and share your disbelief.

I don’t remember a whole lot from that point in history. I was never a huge drug guy, but I smoked a goodly amount of mother nature during that year. I remember getting my drivers license. I remember losing my virginity in a Ford Torino, on Prom Night. I remember seeing Van Halen play and being positive that Eddie wasn’t, couldn’t possibly have been that good, had to be trickery on the records. I remember my jaw hitting the floor that night as he proved me wrong. Mostly, I remember Baklava entering my life.

I dated a Greek girl for a time in high school. In addition to owning a Ford Torino, her mom made Baklava a couple times a year. I remember it being a fairly involved and tedious process; she made it seemingly by the yard. Time and memory are funny things; I recall the making of the Baklava, but don’t have a clear memory of eating it the first time. It’s like it just entered my consciousness as being one of the flat out perks of being alive.

Couple years down the road I found myself wearing the uniform of the Army. This is at the tail of Regan’s first term; the Vietnam hangover was fading, and the military was getting its feet again. I was in tech school, or AIT as the Army called it, and one of my instructors was a Greek woman who somehow found out I liked Baklava. After I think Christmas that year, she brought me some that her mom made. That more than anything else humanized senior ranking people who had been in for years as opposed to my months. I’ve never forgotten her or her name; I can see her clear as a bell in my minds eye damn near 40 years later.

I’ve never really gone on a quest for Baklava, our relationship is simpler than that. It shows up periodically, makes life decidedly better for an all too brief time, then drifts off for a spell.

I don’t know that there’s such a thing as bad Baklava. I’d assume that given the law of averages, there must have been some at some point.

Here’s what I know about good Baklava. It has a unique tendency to make you think it’s the best Baklava you’ve ever tasted. Doesn’t matter if it is or not, good Baklava has that super power. I’ve had the best Baklava ever many times.

A couple years ago, Kate and I went out to Akron OH to visit some family. While there, in addition to making a pilgrimage to the Mayflower Hotel, and the Seiberling Gate Lodge (if you know, you know) we decided to hit a Greek Orthodox church’s festival. Wow, was that a good call. There was a HUGE crowd there and the energy was fantastic, live music and dancers kind of vibe. We ate and of course, had some Baklava. It didn’t disappoint at all.

If you’re ever in Stroudsburg, PA and looking for good Mediterranean food, with the best Baklava you’ll ever have, Cedars Grill is the place to go. It’s small, has I think 4 tables that are pushed right against each other; they do a robust take out business too. Kate and I were there one time and everyone else in the place was speaking either Turkish, Greek, or Lebanese; I’m no linguist and couldn’t tell. If you’re in an ethnic food place, and everyone else is speaking the native tongue, that’s a solid indicator you’re in the right place. Kate and I get there a couple times a year. Honestly their baba ghanoush is the main draw, but the Baklava is consistently great.

Late last year Kate and I met my brother for dinner one night. We ate at a Greek place and they had Baklava cheesecake. Well, wasn’t that a plot twist and decidedly not the worst thing ever

This brings us to the motivation for this post, the Baklava that drifted into our lives yesterday. Kate saw on the web somewhere that a local-ish Greek church was having a food sale this week. I happened to be in the area Friday, so I placed a dinner order. Of course, I ordered a couple pieces of Baklava as well. I’m not sure if my pic captures just how magnificent those pieces were, but they were.

This was jumbo Baklava, I’ve never seen pieces that big (given that this was in the Scranton area, yes, that’s what she said). It was fantastic; it had that impossibly dense melt in your mouth yet crunchy thing going on, just magical. Somehow, I managed to actually make it home with Kate’s piece intact.

If you’re reading this and somehow have never had Baklava, please, you owe it to yourself to try some. If you already know Baklava’s joy, I hope you cross paths with some soon!!

Thanks for reading, be kind to yourself and others!!!

Sam & Kate