Mornin’ friends! So last night I was doing that thing where I scroll through Pinterest at 11:47pm exactly (my nightly ritual since Emma moved out) and I stumbled across this GORGEOUS photo of baklava that made me drool all over my phone. #midlifeproblems
James walked in and was like “are you looking at desserts again?” and I was all “maaaaybe” and he just shook his head. Listen, the man married me knowing full well about my sweet tooth obsession, so he has absolutely zerrrrro right to judge me when I’m in full-on dessert stalking mode.
Anyway, that got me thinking about this baklava I had at my coworker Stephanie’s house (you know, the one with the weird collection of ceramic frogs that she talks about like they’re her children?). It was INSANELY good – not the super sweet kind that makes your teeth hurt, but this light, fragrant, nutty perfection.
Turns out it was Lebanese baklava!! Who knew there were different types?? Not this girl! I thought baklava was just… baklava? So I went down a weird research rabbit hole (at 1:23 AM, while James snored loud enough to wake the neighbors three doors down).
The Origin Story That No One Can Agree On
K so here’s the deal with baklava origin Lebanese connections – it’s complicated. Like, more complicated than that time I tried to explain TikTok to my mother-in-law. I found this fascinating article about baklava’s history that sent me down a whole research rabbit hole. Some history peeps say it started waaaaay back in ancient Assyria around the 8th century BC. They were all like “let’s put some nuts and honey between flatbread and bake it” which doesn’t sound exactly like baklava but whatevs.
But then other people are like “nope, it was totally the Ottomans who invented it!” and then the Greeks jump in and they’re all “excuse me, it was definitely us” and honestly it’s like watching my kids argue over who ate the last of the Cheetos. (It was me. I ate them. At midnight. From Ryan’s care package. Shhhhhh.)
I gotta say tho, Lebanese baklava has this special something-something that makes it stand out. They use these floral syrups instead of just plain honey? And the whole thing is just lighter and less sweet which is prolly why I didn’t feel like I needed to check my blood sugar after eating three pieces. OK FINE FOUR. Stop judging me!!!!
That Time I Tried to Make Baklava And Nearly Divorced My Husband
So after my research binge I decided OBVIOUSLY I needed to try making Lebanese baklava myself because I am clearly a glutton for punishment. I mean, I still haven’t finished painting the guest bathroom (started in 2021, currently has two walls Seafoam Dream and two walls Eggshell White because I couldn’t decide).
I dragged myself to three different stores looking for orange blossom water. THREE. In the rain. With Charlie in the car who kept fogging up the windows with his panting and then drawing little dog doodles with his nose. The Kroger guy looked at me like I had asked for unicorn tears.
I finally found the stuff at this little international market where the very nice owner explained that I was pronouncing literally everything wrong. She also told me I needed to make sure I had clarified butter which… did not go well.
Turns out when you’re trying to clarify butter at 9:17pm while simultaneously listening to My Favorite Murder podcast and texting Emma about her breakup, you might accidentally burn said butter. The smoke alarm went off and James came running downstairs in his boxers with a fire extinguisher yelling about how I was trying to burn the house down. DRAMATIC MUCH? It was just a little smoke!
Charlie, btw, hid under the dining table the whole time, the big baby. He’s literally afraid of everything except the mailman, who he thinks is his mortal enemy.
How Lebanese Baklava Is Sooooo Different
K so after the Great Butter Disaster of 2025, I actually managed to make a decent-ish attempt at Lebanese baklava the next day. The thing that makes it special:
- They use this orange blossom water that smells like what I imagine heaven smells like if heaven was a fancy perfume store
- The syrup is waaaay lighter than the honey bomb that is Greek baklava (no offense to Greek baklava, which I will still absolutely demolish given the chance)
- Lebanese peeps often use pistachios which make it all green and pretty
- The whole thing feels more… elegant? Like the difference between wearing my Target loungewear vs the one “nice” dress I bought for Emma’s college graduation
So basically Lebanese bakers took this dessert and un-heavy-fied it. Is that a word? It is now. I’m cookinged it up.
Preparing Lebanese baklava requires skill and patience. Bakers brush clarified butter onto sheets of phyllo dough, layer them with nuts, and cut them into diamond shapes before baking. Once baked, they drizzle the dessert with floral syrup. This meticulous process showcases Lebanon’s dedication to quality and artistry.
In Lebanon, baklava serves as more than just food—it symbolizes tradition and hospitality. Families and bakeries alike embrace this dessert, sharing it during festive occasions and celebrations. Each bite connects the past to the present, keeping the culture alive.
CONFESSION: I Have a Baklava Problem
True story – after I made my first batch, I ate so much of it that I got a sugar headache and had to lie down with a cold washcloth on my forehead for 17.5 minutes exactly. James walked in, saw me in distress, and instead of being sympathetic just said “was it worth it?”
IT WAS.
The next morning I actually had baklava for breakfast, which reminded me that I need to make more healthy breakfast recipes to balance out my dessert addiction. My peanut butter baked oatmeal has been a lifesaver on mornings when I need something nutritious but still satisfying.
The Ottoman Empire’s Sweet Tooth (or when baklava got fancy)
Remember history class? Yeah me neither because I was prolly passing notes to cute boys (AND LOOK WHERE THAT GOT ME, with a husband who judges my dessert choices). But apparently the Ottoman Empire was a big deal for baklava because they were the ones who made it all fancy pants with super thin phyllo layers and stuff.
There was this whole thing called the “Baklava Parade” where they’d give trays of baklava to soldiers, which honestly sounds like a much better military recruitment strategy than whatever they’re doing now. Like, you want me to sign up for potential war? Hard pass. You want me to sign up for guaranteed baklava? WHERE DO I ENLIST?
Lebanese people took this already fancy dessert and did their own thing to it, adding those floral waters and making it more delicate. It’s like they took something already good and made it fashion, know what I mean?
Why My Family Now Requests “The Lebanese One”
I brought my baklava creation to my sister Jen’s house for Sunday dinner (where my niece Mia informed me my hair looked “very 2010” which I’m choosing to take as a compliment even tho I know it wasn’t one). ANYWAY, everyone went crazy for it! Even Ryan, who claims to “not like nuts” (but will eat an entire jar of peanut butter in 3 days) had like three pieces.
Now whenever there’s a family thing, they’re all “Lisa are you bringing the Lebanese baklava?” and I’m like “do you want me to bring something else?” and they all say no. I’ve been typecast as the baklava lady. There are worse things I guess.
Last weekend I tried making acorn squash in the air fryer as a healthy side dish to balance out the baklava, and guess what? NO ONE CARED. They just wanted dessert.
For my brother’s birthday, I’m planning to make both baklava AND these amazing garlic butter steak bites because protein balance, right? And maybe some Mexican chicken salad for the people who claim they’re watching their carbs (while secretly eating my baklava when no one’s looking).
My mom tried to get the recipe and I pretended the phone was breaking up. SORRY MOM I LOVE YOU BUT THIS IS MY SIGNATURE THING NOW.
How To Actually Make This Stuff Without Losing Your Mind
If you want to try making Lebanese baklava, here’s what you need:
- Phyllo dough (in the freezer section, not the refrigerated section – learned that one the hard way)
- Pistachios or walnuts (I used pistachios cause they’re prettier and I’m shallow like that)
- Clarified butter (wear protective gear when making this)
- Sugar, water, lemon juice, and orange blossom water for the syrup
- Patience, which I do not have but somehow managed to find
Speaking of patience in the kitchen, I recently discovered that making creme brulee isn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be! And if you’re curious about the difference between creme brulee and custard, I wrote about that too after a disastrous dinner party debate.
The process is basically:
Would you like to save this?
Get this recipe sent to your inbox, plus get new recipes from us every week!
Layer a million sheets of paper-thin dough with butter in between Add nuts Layer more dough Cut into diamonds BEFORE baking (this is important, people!) Bake till golden Pour cold syrup over hot baklava
But here’s what the recipe DOESN’T tell you – phyllo dough is sentient and it KNOWS when you’re in a hurry. It will dry out and crack and make you question all your life choices in approximately 3.7 seconds. I kept having to throw kitchen towels over it like I was hiding a dead body just to keep it from turning into expensive tissue paper.
Oh and cutting it into perfect diamonds? HAHAHAHA. Mine looked like they were cut by a blindfolded toddler with safety scissors. But guess what? STILL TASTED AMAZING. #kitchenfail #butstillyummy
Did Lebanese People Invent Baklava? The Truth Is…
OK so after all my research (me, googling at 1AM with reading glasses perched on the end of my nose like some kind of detective), I can tell you that baklava prolly wasn’t INVENTED by Lebanese people. BUT they definitely made it better!
It’s like how Ryan “invented” putting potato chips in his sandwiches and thought he was a culinary genius until I told him people have been doing that since forever. He still insists his way is better because he crushes them “with intention.” WHATEVER THAT MEANS.
Lebanese baklava took something good and made it lighter, more fragrant, and frankly more sophisticated. It’s like the difference between my high school prom dress (poufy, too much glitter, what was I THINKING) and what I’d wear now (still some glitter, but tasteful).
The Weird Connection Between My Honda and Baklava
So remember my Honda that had the check engine light on since basically 2019? James kept telling me I needed to get it fixed and I kept putting it off because… reasons? Mostly because the car worked fine and the mechanic is next to that Nordstrom Rack where I always spend too much money.
I FINALLY got it fixed last Thursday and the mechanic was this lovely Lebanese man named Fadi who saw me scrolling through baklava recipes while waiting. He started telling me about how his grandmother made the best baklava in Beirut, and how American baklava is always too sweet and heavy.
We ended up talking for like 45 minutes about dessert while my car was being fixed! He even wrote down his grandmother’s secret baklava recipe on the back of my receipt, which feels like the universe was rewarding me for finally adulting and getting my car fixed.
Turns out the check engine light was just a sensor thing, but I got a family baklava recipe out of it so WHO’S THE REAL WINNER HERE?
Global Baklava Domination
Lebanese baklava isn’t just staying in Lebanon – it’s everywhere now! There are these famous bakeries like Al Baba Sweets that ship their baklava internationally. I may or may not have looked into this at 2:36 AM last night while James was snoring and Charlie was hogging the entire bottom half of the bed.
The shipping costs made me gasp so loud I woke up the dog, but then I started thinking about how I could justify it as “research” for my blog. That’s legitimate, right?
I’ve noticed more Lebanese restaurants opening up in Portland too, which makes my heart (and stomach) happy. There’s this place downtown that makes baklava ice cream sandwiches in the summer and I’ve been known to drive there in rush hour traffic just to get one before they sell out. WORTH IT.
Why I Now Have a Secret Stash of Orange Blossom Water
After making baklava a few times (OK fine seven times in three weeks don’t judge me), I’ve discovered that orange blossom water is basically magic in a bottle? I’ve started putting it in everything.
I add a few drops to my lemonade I put some in plain yogurt with honey I may have tried making orange blossom water cocktails which were… an experience I even put some in my bath once which made me smell like a fancy dessert
James walked into the kitchen yesterday and was like “why do we have four bottles of this flower water stuff?” and I just stared at him until he backed slowly out of the room. THEY WERE ON SALE, JAMES. I’M BEING ECONOMICAL.
The Time I Accidentally Created a Monster
So my book club came over last month (we were supposed to discuss “The Silent Patient” but spent 2 hours talking about Yellowjackets instead), and I served my Lebanese baklava. My friend Diane (you know, the one who’s always on some weird diet?) took one bite and declared she was going to learn to make it.
Three days later she texts me at 6:42 AM with a photo of what can only be described as a baklava crime scene. Apparently she tried to substitute coconut oil for butter and stevia for sugar to make it “healthy” and the whole thing turned into some kind of sticky puddle.
I told her baklava has survived for centuries without being “healthified” and maybe we should respect its integrity. She didn’t speak to me for a week but then showed up at my door with a bottle of wine and admitted I was right. VINDICATION.
When Baklava Becomes a Personality Trait
I’ve now reached the point where people associate me with baklava. My neighbor Trish saw me at Costco and was like “are you buying ingredients for that Lebanese dessert thing?” I was actually buying toilet paper and socks, but I appreciate that she sees me as a woman of culture and refinement.
I’ve embraced it tho. My Instagram bio now says “Baklava enthusiast” and I’ve started collecting baklava recipes from around the world like they’re Pokemon. Gotta catch ’em all!
Between this and my recent obsession with strawberry butter (which, BTW, is AMAZING on toast), my family thinks I’ve gone full food blogger. And you know what? Maybe I have! I’ve even been experimenting with dessert bars for when I need something sweet but don’t have the patience for all those phyllo layers.
Oh and I may have created a spreadsheet ranking every baklava I’ve tried on a scale from “Not Worth The Calories” to “Would Commit Minor Crimes For.” James found it on our shared Google Drive and now he’s genuinely concerned about me. Whatever. At least I’m not collecting ceramic frogs like Stephanie.
Frequently Asked Questions About Lebanese Baklava
Is baklava originally from Lebanon?
While baklava’s exact origins are debated among historians, Lebanon has significantly contributed to its evolution. The dessert likely originated in the ancient Assyrian Empire around the 8th century BC, was refined during the Ottoman period, and Lebanese bakers developed their distinctive version using local ingredients and techniques that set it apart from other regional variations.
What makes Lebanese baklava different from other types?
Lebanese baklava is distinguished by its use of orange blossom or rose water syrup rather than honey, creating a lighter, more floral flavor profile. It typically features pistachios rather than walnuts, uses less syrup overall for a less cloying sweetness, and balances flavors more delicately compared to Greek or Turkish versions.
How long does homemade Lebanese baklava last?
When stored properly in an airtight container at room temperature, homemade Lebanese baklava can last 1-2 weeks. For longer storage, you can refrigerate it for up to 3 weeks, though the texture may change slightly. Just make sure to bring it to room temperature before serving for the best flavor experience.
What are the main ingredients in authentic Lebanese baklava?
Authentic Lebanese baklava requires phyllo dough, clarified butter (ghee), pistachios (sometimes walnuts), and a syrup made from sugar, water, lemon juice, and orange blossom or rose water. The quality of these ingredients, particularly the floral waters and nuts, significantly impacts the final flavor.
Can Lebanese baklava be frozen?
Yes, Lebanese baklava freezes well for up to 3 months. Wrap individual portions or the entire tray tightly in plastic wrap and aluminum foil before freezing. Thaw overnight in the refrigerator and then bring to room temperature before serving to maintain its texture and flavor profile.
Is Lebanese baklava healthier than other desserts?
While still a sweet treat, Lebanese baklava tends to use less syrup than other varieties, making it somewhat lighter in calories. The use of pistachios also adds healthy fats and protein. It’s definitely an indulgence, but in moderation, it can be part of a balanced diet – especially compared to heavily frosted or cream-filled desserts.
Can I substitute honey for the orange blossom syrup?
Technically yes, but this would result in a different style of baklava, closer to Greek or Turkish varieties. The orange blossom water is what gives Lebanese baklava its distinctive flavor profile. Most international grocery stores and Middle Eastern markets carry orange blossom water if you’re looking to make authentic Lebanese baklava.
Why does phyllo dough dry out so quickly when making baklava?
Phyllo dough has very low moisture content, which makes it prone to drying out when exposed to air. When making baklava, keep unused sheets covered with a slightly damp kitchen towel while working. Work efficiently and avoid interruptions to prevent the dough from becoming brittle and difficult to handle.RéessayerClaude peut faire des erreurs. Assurez-vous de vérifier ses réponses.
The Heart of What Makes Food Special
So after all this baklava madness, I’ve been thinking about why I got so obsessed with it. It’s not just because it’s delicious (tho it IS), but because food tells stories. Lebanese baklava tells a story about culture and history and people taking something and making it their own.
When I make it, I feel connected to this long line of bakers who came before me, all standing in their kitchens swearing at phyllo dough and burning butter and eventually creating something beautiful. There’s something really special about that.
That connection to tradition is why I’ve been exploring other cultural dishes too, like spicy cucumber salad and cajun seafood boil. There’s something amazing about how food brings people together across generations and cultures.
Plus it makes my house smell amazing and gives me an excuse to buy fancy pistachios.
For those nights when I’m craving something comforting but don’t have the energy for phyllo dough drama, I’ve been making this incredible chicken and waffles recipe that my family goes CRAZY for. Comfort food is its own kind of storytelling, right?
Anyway I gotta go because Charlie is giving me that look that means he’s about to do something destructive if I don’t take him for a walk RIGHT NOW. Last time I ignored that look he ate one of my good throw pillows. THE DOG TRAINER SAID HE WAS WELL-BEHAVED, JULIE. I WANT A REFUND.
Till next time, friends! If you need me, I’ll be the one at the international market buying more orange blossom water and pretending I’m not going to eat baklava for breakfast tomorrow.
xoxo
Lisa