Some time ago, I learned that the Joy of Cooking baklava recipe, while usable (it's hard to go too wrong with nuts and honey), was just not a good baklava recipe. The oven temperatures are wonky so it tends to burn, and it's sweet but not very flavorful. When we lived in Pittsburgh, however, I borrowed one of the Moosewood cookbooks from our housemate, and discovered the One True Baklava Recipe. It bakes up perfectly; it's full of spices and citrus and general sticky goodness; it is overall a thing of joy and delight.
After we moved out, I couldn't find it. I searched the Internet for "Moosewood baklava". No love. I used Amazon's "Search within this book" feature on every Moosewood cookbook. No love. I checked the index of all the Moosewood cookbooks I could find at used and new bookstores. Nothing! I was sad.
Then, yesterday, I woke up a bit earlier than everyone else, here in this delightful vacation rental that Cathy has found for us, and discovered that the fully-equipped kitchen included cookbooks in its fully-equippedness. Included, specifically, Sundays at Moosewood. Hmmm, I thought. We haven't gotten groceries for dinner yet; perhaps something in here will be inspiring. And there — there on the page — away from everything else on the page ("Your storytelling style owes a lot to Arlo Guthrie, doesn't it?" says Brooks) — was MY BAKLAVA RECIPE. I couldn't find it, all these years, because they had spelled it with a P. Paklava. Paklava. I ask you.
And then we went to the grocery, and I made a great big tray of baklava, and it is golden and delicious and overall a thing of joy and delight, and Andres OCRed the recipe and it will never, never leave my sticky little fingers again, and I can have baklava whenever I want.