I didn’t think that my annual baklava party was going to happen this year. I mean, there’s always a bit of anxiety over whether anyone will actually show up or whether the baklava will turn out. Too much baklava is always better because it can be frozen, but either too little or too much feels like a failure. Usually the worry makes the process feel exciting, and nothing bad actually happens.
There was so much craziness between getting Esther and company out and Basil back and school starting again. I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to pull off a big party for August, but August 24th is St. Syra Day, which is why my annual baklava party is always at the end of August. Esther and company had car trouble, and God bless the friends between Pennsylvania and here who put Basil up at their places as he drove across the country. It takes a far-flung village!
Most years I start reaching out to people a month ahead of the party to save the date. This year, two weeks before the party, I printed a handful of invitations, which I passed out at church, sent out texts to Mike’s family, posted an invitation on a book club chat, and left a flyer in the teacher lounge at school. The invitation process was less than personal.
A week before the party, I usually go to Café Istanbul for the good phyllo dough to make the baklava, but this year I saw some at Albertsons. I defrosted it on the Monday before the party to be ready for Wednesday, feeling good about the head start. On Wednesday I chopped the walnuts in my very own kitchen because Xenia’s walnut treatments have progressed far enough that walnut dust in the air doesn’t give her a reaction, no EpiPen necessary. I mixed in the Vietnamese cinnamon and sugar and melted a couple of sticks of butter. It was a huge letdown then when I opened the phyllo dough and found it half the size needed to fit the pans! I might have been able to use them for Spanakopita, which is made in a smaller dish, but definitely not for baklava. I put foil over the bowls of flavored chopped walnuts and headed to the real store to buy real phyllo dough!
The phyllo was defrosted by Friday. I like to leave a day between baking the baklava and adding syrup, so making it all the day before the party on Saturday bumped my heart rate up. I started the process as soon as I came home from teaching calculus Friday morning. I preheated the oven, melted the butter, and proceeded to fill a roasting pan, painting butter on phyllo, alternating with layers of the sugar, cinnamon, walnut mixture sprinkled evenly across the sheet. With the first one in the oven, I began layering the second pan. Ten minutes later, the oven sounded an alarm, “Dadudadu dadudadu.”
“Oops. Looks like this is an error: Error F353.” flashed across the screen.
I pressed the dismiss button.
It said, “Please wait while your unit restarts…”
Then it went dark and rebooted. I lost track of time because the clock rebooted too. As soon as the oven heated up again, it freaked out. “Dadudadu dadudadu.” Mike tried flipping the breaker. I tried heating only one oven instead of both. It was dead.
Kelly stopped by just then with the keys to the church kitchen on her, and offered to let me in. We took separate cars so I could stay there and bake both pans, while she left to do her own thing. The uncooked pan went on the back seat first to protect the upholstery. The pan, fresh from the oven, balanced on top, half covered in a nest of shawls. I was feeling hopeful, though still low-key stressed, driving down the village main street towards Albuquerque, when a car came out of nowhere and pulled in front of me, taking a left turn. It wasn’t a problem for me to avoid the car crash by slamming on the brakes, but the hot, half-baked pan of baklava flew across the car! I pulled across the right lane into the dirt on the side of the road, and slowly opened the door, afraid of what I might see. The top pan was on the floor right side up with the contents still safely inside.
The baking at the church went well, but the results between the pans told a tale of trauma. The top of each baklava diamond from the twice-baked pan had a curled piece of phyllo dough, making the once airborne pan look like it had tiny wings.
That afternoon, when Xenia and Justin hopped into the car, I regaled them with the whole baklava fiasco. When I described the pan of baklava flying across the car, Xenia turned to me with horror on her face and said, “Did you come to pick us up in a hearse?” I finished the tale with the semi-happy ending and reminded her of all her tree nut allergy progress.
I poured the syrup that night, hoping that the top layer would settle down, but the honey-sugar syrup glazed the feathered phyllo in place. Oh well. My guests were delighted with the freshness of the baklava this year, and as my favorite philosopher Moomin Mama said after someone sat on the birthday cake she baked, “Same cake, different shape.”
It was a lower turnout than usual, but thirty people, including small children, signed the guest book. I made eighty pieces of fresh baklava and put out twenty-five pieces of frozen baklava. The nonfeathered pan was untouched. We froze the leftovers for my next few parties. It’s always good to have baklava to bring out when a fancy dessert is wanted. I enjoyed the slower pace of the party as well and was able to sit and talk to everyone who came. Next year I’ll put my baklava open house on a Sunday. Saturdays are busy when school and fall sports are starting up. I’ll also put the save-the-date out by the end of July.
My next party for September is going to be a Flannel and Denim Campfire Sing Along, at which we will sing Country Roads and Sweet Caroline. My amateur band had their first practice, and there is great hopes that we will sound better by the party. Regardless, fun for everyone is guaranteed. I even have a great idea for a prop, which is taking all my artistic energy.
My goal this year is to have one big gathering a month, and that is turning out to be a good pace. October is tea party movie watch month. November is Thanksgiving, and December will have a sing-along talent show where I can show off all the instruments I can now play, and of course, Christmas.
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