Bonding over Efes' baklava © Carolyne Weldon

Remember when I told you, back in early April, that I was about to pitch an ethnic food market column to a secret Montreal publication? Well judging from the deafening silence that endeavour was met with, I believe it’s not too early to make the announcement that the column, titled Eating Diaspora, will officially live on this blog.

I knew this was a foregone conclusion when my second email (follow-through, ask the life-coaches: it’s all about follow-through), was also left unanswered. In the short, peppy email, I included two examples of Montreal stores I’d like Eating Diaspora to feature. I could see how the first may have let them cold (a supermarket-size Romanian grocery store brimming with unidentifiables), but when the second one didn’t incite them to make a mad dash to the phone (a Chechen brochettes joint that sells succulent, ready-to-grill kebabs), I knew my goose was, so to speak, cooked.

But all is well that ends well, friends. Wasn’t the whole point of having a blog being able to publish fun original material myself? Without having to rely on the middleman? So read the first of a hopefully long tradition of Eating Diaspora columns, featuring baklava crack-house Turkish pastry shop Pâtisserie Efes after the break. Enjoy responsibly.

Talat Tombul, Pâtisserie Efes owner © Carolyne Weldon

GOING NUTS IN BAKLAVA HEAVEN: PÂTISSERIE EFES

If to you all the word baklava evokes are those sad 9-pack plastic containers of brittle sweet cardboard you buy in the supermarket, I have some news for you: you need to get your travel cap on and make your way down to Park-Ex. Now.

While Parc-Extension immediately says “awesome South Asian food”, I suggest your hunter-gatherer map of the area will now have to be redrawn to include Pâtisserie Efes, an outstanding Turkish pastry shop which trafficks in baklava and other sinful goodies.

It should be said, right off the bat, that contrary to its unambiguous destination (i.e. your tummy), the baklava’s origins are highly contentious. Although generally admitted to be an Ottoman delicacy – perfected in the Sultan’s Palace (why is that not surprising) – several Mediterranean and Middle-Eastern nations would like to have you believe that it was their ancestors who first thought of layering paper-thin dough with nuts and butter, before dousing the whole reckless endeavour in honey syrup. I won’t be so foolish as to attempt untying that sweet, sticky Gordian knot. All I will say is that on any random day, Montrealers of Greek, Syrian and Iranian descent, among others, all flock to Pâtisserie Efes to stock up. That’s right. We’re talking baklava so good it brings feuding nations together.

Pâtisserie Efes is a bright and fragrant locale that is half pastry shop, half imported-goods store. Since its grand opening, in 2000, it has become a true neighbourhood hotspot. School kids, walking right past the fried chicken and pizza place two doors down, sail in and out to grab a cheese or meat börek ($2), rectangular-shaped puff-pastries kept warm in a glass case, while older ladies dip cookies in their tea as they knit color-coded baby matchables.

Of all the imported Turkish products on sale, a few are worth putting on your shopping list. There are the cartons of sour-cherry juice (visne suyu), which, although probably not what the Sultan had in mind, makes excellent cranberry juice surrogate in vodka drinks. There are also the seven kinds of lokum, aka Turkish Delight, shipped straight from Istanbul’s finest and sold by the pound. While the gummy squares aren’t on everyone’s favorite candy list, it’s safe to assume that if you still feel the same way after tasting these, Turkish Delights are just not your thing.

As to the pastry section proper, presumably why you’ll have trekked to Efes in the first place, a useful tool for navigating the displays is thinking in terms of two axes of evil: dry vs. wet and sweet vs. savoury. In the wet and sweet category you’ll find seven kinds of baklava ($18/kilo) moist, toothsome and thrilling specimens showcasing either ground pistachios or walnuts. Diamond shaped, round or square, they are all equally decadent and dripping in honey. There’s also tulumba, the Turkish, honey-soaked answer to the Latin churros, and a selection of home-made puddings (chocolate, vanilla, and rice. $2.50).

If the dizzying heights of the baklava sugar rush appear intimidating, the savoury end of the spectrum is also well-populated. Aside from the börek described above, Efes offers a selection of items likely to become breakfast favorites. There is simit, large sesame-covered rings that are the Turkish answer to bagels; poaça, lovely buttery ring-shaped croissants; and açma, soft white-cheese-filled boat-shaped wonders.

Another highlight is the su börek, a delightfully layered cheese affair that makes guest appearances on weekends. The only thing you could say it vaguely resembles is a delicate, home-made, fresh-cheese lasagna without the tomato sauce. But words don’t even come close. It is eaten warm, with tea, and a big smile on your face. On a recent Sunday, I asked the owner to help me explain what sort of animal su börek is. As he paused to think, someone working in the back chimed in: “just tell them it tastes like you’re gonna dream about it.”

Given its all-out popularity (folks drive in from Laval and the West-Island to get some) late-risers interested in trying it out should plan ahead and call to reserve a slab ($12/ kilo). On both Saturdays and Sundays, there are only crumbs left by 11 o’clock.

PÂTISSERIE EFES
689 Saint Roch Street
Montreal (Park Extension)
(514) 495-6535
Open daily: 6 am to 8 pm