After my al-Kenefeh cake for my last class, I was really jonesing for the real thing. Chef Tony Santa even tried to find the cheese for me so I could make it, but wasn’t able to. I tried all the "ethnic" grocery stores in the county, which admittedly were not many, but none of them had anything even close to the cheese used.
As usual with me, the harder something is to achieve, the more I want to.
I had no choice. I had to go to Brooklyn.
Well, I could have gone to Paterson, NJ, which also has a large Middle Eastern community, but have you been to Paterson? Yeah. Didn’t think so. Trust me. Brooklyn was preferable.
So last weekend I took the train in to the City, stopped at Lush to stock up on pricey skin care that I covet unabashedly, and then plunged into the Atlantic Avenue landmark of Sahadi. It bills itself as a Middle Eastern grocery store, but it’s really half that, half gourmet shop for gentrified Brooklynites who want their shortbread from Scotland, their anchos from Mexico and their kosher cheddar from England (yes, Sahadi had a kosher cheese section, though I also noticed they called the larger pearl couscous they sold by the pound "Lebanese couscous" instead of the more common "Israeli couscous").
I couldn’t find the cheese until I asked one of the Lebanese ladies working there if they had it.
"You want make k’nafe? You know?" she asked, intrigued.
I nodded. She smiled, apparently impressed, and showed me to the bottom shelf of the freezer, where they kept big pound-plus blocks of unlabeled white stuff.
I had brought an insulated lunchbox with me (yes, I am that much of a dork), so despite the 90 degree-plus heat that day, I was able to transport my block o’ cheese home, where it waits for me to have time to make the damn dessert.
Enroute to the subway station, I stopped at Damascus Bakery, which advertised K’nafeh (everywhere I go, I see it spelled differently).
And this is where I need your help.
I’ve been researching this dessert ever since experiencing it back in January at Ali Baba, an awesome Lebanese restaurant in Vegas. And it seems to me that there are two variations of dough and of filling, and everyone not only has their preference, but declares the alternate to be an imposter.
The first kenafeh I had, at Ali Baba, involved a gooey, slightly sweet, mozzarella-like cheese filling and a semolina-based dough similar to what pasta would be if you baked instead of boiled it.
The version I bought at Damascus Bakery (above) used shredded phyllo dough wrapped around either nuts (the oblong pieces are walnut and pistachio variations) or a filling I’ve read about, made of boiling down condensed milk until it had the consistency of cheese (below).
When I found a place to buy the right cheese in Vegas, the woman who owned the little shop insisted it had to be made with gooey cheese but also with the shredded phyllo dough. When I asked the owner of Damascus Bakery, he insisted it had to be made with the phyllo shreds, but also with the condensed milk filling.
When I tried to ferret the recipe out of the guys at Ali Baba in Vegas, they insisted the semolina dough and gooey cheese was the only way to go.
Online, I’ve found combinations of both, though it seems to me most bakeries sell the version with phyllo shreds and condensed milk filling, I suspect because both hold up better on the shelf and served at room temperature.
Personally, I much prefer the semolina dough and gooey cheese version. The phyllo dough was messy and the condensed milk filling of the one pictured above was just disgustingly sweet with no cheesy goodness.
So here’s where I want your help. Are you or someone you know of Middle Eastern/Eastern Mediterranean background? Have you been to Lebanon? Do you frequent Lebanese restaurants and/or bakeries? Most references to the dessert come from Lebanon, though I’ve also found variations in Syrian, Iraqi and Turkish cuisine. Have you had what phonetically could be called kuh-NAH-feh? What was it like, who made it and in what context was it served (warm at a homestyle meal, room temperature from a street vendor or bakery, etc)?
Yeah, I’m a little obsessed with this. I think it’s mostly because of the paucity of information on its origins and "authentic" components. And also because it’s so damn good. At least it is when served warm with gooey cheese. My advice is to stay away from the condensed milk version.
4 comments:
I'm pretty sure if you e-mailed Shuna Lydon at Eggbeater, she'd either know or know a bunch of other people you could ask.
I ate this regularly at a cafe in Bethlehem, Israel, 20 years ago, and have looked for a recipe in vain - now that I have an alternate spelling, perhaps I can find one! The type I had was ALWAYS made with semolina and cheese, with a drizzle of hot syrup poured on top before serving.
I've spent a lot of time in Syria, Lebanon, and Turkey. The cheesy pastry you describe was most common in Syria. Perhaps that is the birth place of the gooey cheesy goodness? I'd contact the embassy and ask to speak with their chef if I were you.
Kat
I know this is really, really old. But I found this because I was looking for a recipe for kenefeh. My husband is Lebanese, and the one thing he misses the most is the good kenefeh.
Though this is rarely made at home in Lebanon, it's actually fairly easy.
After an unsuccessful search online for a recipe, I remembered that I have a Lebanese cookbook that has the recipe ("Lebanese Cuisine" by Anissa Helou).
She uses the "hair" pastry, browns it in a pan with butter, then puts it in the oven with mozzarella cheese on the top (she writes for U.S. and British readers, but says that if you can get hold of the Lebanese cheese "akkawi" that's better). Then she says to flip it onto a plate brushed with sugar syrup so that the pastry is what shows, and sprinkle with a bit more syrup. Don't overdo the syrup, as most people don't like it too sweet.
Hope that helps, though I'm sure if I read more of your blog I'd find out you already knew this!
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