It was 1980. I was twenty and studying abroad in Amsterdam. Most of my fellow students were headed to the south of France for spring break. I had other plans.

My destination was Greece. I traveled by train through Germany, Austria, what was at the time Yugoslavia, before entering eastern Greece at Thessaloniki. I eventually made my way south to Athens, through the Peloponnese peninsula before taking a ferry to the island of Crete. It was decidedly adventurous undertaking for a young, single, and solo, female traveler.

I had read about Matala, a small village in southern Crete on the Mediterranean. Matala was famous for the artificial caves, carved into the rocks. These caves were first inhabited during the prehistoric period. Tombs found in the caves date from Greek, Roman and Early Christian times. During the 70’s the caves were hosting an international hippie community. Hippie chick that I was, this sounded like the ideal place to spend spring break.

Matala did not disappoint. I enjoyed several glorious days camping on the beach below the caves, where I connected with two women, traveling from Sweden. We spent our days soaking up the sunshine at Red Beach, the most famous nude beach on Crete and our nights dining at the cafes drinking Ouzo while feasting on Moussaka, Dolmades and Baklava.

Ah, Baklava. Flaky, nutty, buttery layers of syrupy goodness. Baklava consists of 30 or more sheets of phyllo dough brushed with lots of butter, and layered with finely chopped pistachios, walnuts, and/or almonds. After baking, simple syrup of honey or sugar, rose water and lemon juice (sometimes spiced with cinnamon, cardamom, cloves) is poured over the pastry and allowed to soak in.

Twenty-eight years later, when my husband and I began exploring international adoption, our discovery of Armenian cuisine was a contributing factor to our decision to adopt from this country. Yoghurt, hummus, lamb, Shish Kebab, mint, stuffed grape leaves – we enjoyed them all. Along with Baklava, which in Armenia is, called Pakhlava.

History of Pakhlava

The exact origin of Pakhlava or Baklava is a bit of a mystery. Many ethnic groups, whose ancestry goes back to the Asia Minor or the Mediterranean, lay claim as the creators of this dessert. And their claims are all partially accurate since the origins of Baklava predate the many shifts that have occurred over the centuries with boundaries and borders of countries in these regions.

Around the 8th century, B.C., the Assyrians were the first people who layered chopped nuts between thin layers of thin bread dough, added honey and baked it in their primitive wood burning ovens. Historically baklava was considered a food for the rich until mid-19th century, as the earliest versions were baked only on special occasions.

Greek seamen and merchants traveling east to Mesopotamia soon discovered the delights of Baklava. They brought the recipe to Athens. Armenians, whose lands were located on ancient Spice and Silk routes, added cinnamon and cloves, Arabs introduced rose-water and cardamom. Each nation and region put their individual stamp on this delicious pastry.

From their table to our table

Paklava will most certainly be a welcome visitor at our dinner table. I am excited to share this treat, along with many Armenian culinary traditions, with our child. I believe it’s important to explore the rich histories of our ancestors as well as create new traditions that celebrate our uniqueness as a family.

Above my stove, is a magnet that reads, “She didn’t always follow the recipe.” I’d say it’s a good bet that I too, like those who preceded me, will find ways to make this dish my own. I might incorporate hazelnuts to celebrate our lives as Northwesterners, or add local lavender honey. Whatever the variation, it’s safe to say that Pakhlava is at our table to stay.