Nobody agrees on who invented baklava. Every version behind a modern pastry case traces back to Istanbul’s Topkapi Palace, where sultans sent trays of baklava to the Janissaries each Ramadan. As the empire spread, so did the dessert, picking up a different accent in every region. Centuries later, three Sarasota kitchens layer it three ways. A Ukrainian-born baker soaks her Greek-style version in honey on Cattleman Road. A St Armands’ sweets shop stocks more than 30 varieties. And a Gulf Gate restaurant imports the pastry, 72 layers per piece. —S.E. Miano  

OFKORS BAKERY

Marie Korsykova and her husband opened OfKors Bakery in early 2018 with recipes they carried from home and later expanded through European pastry courses. Their second location opened in December, a Main Street cafe sending out brunch till 5 pm: Shakshuka, French toast, crepes and a steak plate. Still, OfKors Cafe carries some similar items as the bakery. Look in the pastry case any morning, and the baklava nestles near cannoli, croissants and poppyseed rolls, which you can pick up along with a designer bouquet for home.

Korsykova grew up in Odesa, a Ukrainian port city named after the ancient Greek colony of Odessos, on the Bulgarian coast, and later shaped by Ottoman and Russian rule. “The cuisine and the culture were influenced a lot by Greek settlers,” she says. Her baklava belongs to that Greek inheritance. Thirty-three layers of filo, a thick stratum of walnuts and almonds between them, the whole square soaked through with honey. No sugary syrup. Greek tradition set the number at 33, one layer for each year of Christ’s life, which proves a tasty balance. The Greek method yields a drier bite than its Turkish counterpart, the nut flavor intensified, the filo audible when you break a piece apart. “You need to prepare yourself that the two of these, the Greek one and the Turkish one, are very different,” Korsykova says. “Many of my friends actually prefer the Turkish one. And that’s fine, because many people like it to be very juicy.”

EPHESUS MEDITERRANEAN DELIGHTS II

An ornate pressed-tin ceiling covers the length of Ephesus Mediterranean Delights II on St. Armands Circle. Below, carved lattice woodwork frames the glass display cases where trays of baklava stretch end to end. Chocolate pistachio. Traditional pistachio. Crunchy walnut. Each piece glistens with honey syrup, chopped nuts visible through the translucent top layers. The shop also stocks over 20 varieties of lokum, the rosewater-scented cubes known as Turkish delight. 

General Manager Kerim Dagli oversees both locations, Ephesus I and II, around the bend from each other. The baklava comes from a producer in Tampa who follows Turkish technique. “This is really the best,” Dagli says. His pick: the crunchy walnut, ordered with strong Turkish coffee, served in a small porcelain cup.

Dagli draws the line between traditions by method, at least in his own experience. “For example, the Lebanese baklava, they cook with rosewater, and Greek baklava, they cook with cinnamon. And in Turkey, we are cooking with honey.”

Ephesus II’s back room could pass for an Istanbul tea house. Patterned kilims cover the floor and the walls. A tower of stained-glass lamps glows from the center, and a heavy wooden door, centuries old by the look of the ironwork, hangs beside them. Get comfy on the low cushions, order a second coffee and spend the afternoon.

DIVAN TURKISH CUISINE

Chef Ugur Sariyar ran a restaurant in New Jersey before heading to the Gulf Coast. “I didn’t like winter,” he says. “I wanted to be close to the beach, the palm trees.” He runs Divan Turkish Cuisine with his wife Dede; their toddler daughter, Sariyar jokingly says, “works part time.” The name translates to couch, a place for relaxing in Ottoman parlors, and the small dining room backs up the promise. Blue glass nazars, charms against envy, glint beside shelves of cookbooks and mosaic lamps. A painted mural of Istanbul’s domed skyline hangs behind gray booths, with tables set in navy and patterned cushions lining the banquette.

Start with the manti, ground beef dumplings with garlic yogurt, small enough to eat in one bite, like the baklava waiting at the end. Sariyar imports his baklava from Gaziantep, the region most closely associated with the dessert’s traditional roots, made by specialists. “There’s a chef, and there’s a baklava chef,” he says. “Those people, they only make baklava. That’s why it’s so thin. You can see from one side to the other side.” Seventy-two layers of hand-stretched, high-starch dough come filled with pistachio, walnut or chocolate, and soaked in a simple syrup of sugar, lemon, honey and water. Pistachio leads; the nut was historically scarce outside that area when the recipe took form, Sariyar says. Press a fork in, the layers almost ooze. Order Turkish black tea so the tannins can clear a path to the next rich bite.

OfKors Cafe, 1359 Main St, Sarasota, 941-330-2220, ofkorscafe.com; OfKors Bakery, 3945 Cattlemen Rd, Sarasota, 941-552-9717, ofkorseurobakery.com; Ephesus Mediterranean Delights, 27 N Boulevard of the Presidents, Sarasota, 352-217-3195; Divan Turkish Cuisine, 6525 Superior Ave, Sarasota, 941-924-3030, divanturkishcuisine.com