Our Antakya trip started here in Istanbul with my first attempts to make künefe, a syrupy dessert of dough strands (kadaif) arranged in two layers and cheese sandwiched in between. I could not find a definitive recipe: here they used more cheese, there kadaif dominated, here they cooked the sweet on the stovetop, there - in the oven. It became apparent that the only way to find out was to travel to the source, the area of Turkey where künefe is coming from - Antakya.
Did the people of Antakya create künefe indeed? Well, maybe not: the dish originated in the Arabic world (where it is called kanāfah) but then I have never favored these highly political discussion of the food origin. “We and them (Syrians) are the same people. My grandmother came from Damascus”, explained Mustafa Amca, father of Özgür’s friend and Antakya native who became our guide - even though not literally - through the past and present of the town. With such movement of people no wonder that the food did travel too. Along with their spectacular takes on hummus, babaganush, falafel and many other Middle Eastern specialties Antakyans do have a right to be proud of their künefe too.
To make the dessert kadaif dough strands are chopped and mixed with melted clarified butter. Then on a round tray they are arranged in the first layer. The second layer is a particular type of cheese that is crumbled on top; it is followed by the another - final - layer of the buttered strands. Midway künefe is flipped over so that both sides cook evenly. Once ready the dessert is drowned in the sugar syrup that layers of kadaif soak up as if they were left in the Arabian dessert without any provision of liquid for weeks.
When looking for the perfect place to eat perfect künefe in Antakya I wanted to get it right from the first time: life is too short to eat subpar künefe. We sought a local advice. “I rarely eat künefe outside because the best one is always made at home”, - explained Mustafa Amca. Due to the lack of planning we deprived ourselves from that luxury. Having accepted the fact that even the best künefe we would eat was going to be only second best we ventured out to explore.
Our first künefe was at Anadolu Restaurant, one of the respectable Antakya eateries where suit-clad gentlemen enjoy their almost-as-good-as-home lunch and then come back in the evening - for a few glasses of raki with the typical Antakya spread. Künefe crowns the feast being “olmazsa olmaz” as Turks say meaning “no way to ditch”. To pay due respect to the local traditions after a dozen of starters and a main we hesitantly agreed to share 2 portions of künefe between the three of us. Round tray that looked more like 4 portions arrived to the table. What I saw was an old acquaintance I already knew from good places in Istanbul - piping hot (the only condition künefe must arrive to your table), even caramel-colored disc of dough strands generously seasoned with the greenest ground pistachio on Earth. The top was crispy and the cheese inside was soft and melty.
Not surprisingly few minutes later we were already drinking legendary Antakyan Turkish coffee (imagine the world without Arçelik Turkish coffee machine - this is Antakya) and contemplating on the künefe that had disappeared in seconds. Mustafa Amca noted with satisfaction, “It was so light! Künefe must have that crispy top”. “Why did you bring me a pile of dough?” - a künefe eater may complain if the künefe was undercooked, as we learned.
Our second shot was little künefe salon at the Uzun Çarşı - Çınaraltı Künefe Yusuf Usta’nın Yeri - taking its name from a huge branchy plane tree in the middle of the little han where time stops so that you can enjoy a künefe. Before going to the place we strolled down the market to find the makers of the original material - kadaif dough strands. And here they were with their traditional kadaif armory: a hot rotating flat platform and a copper pot with a dozen of small pipes at its bottom dispensed over the platform. Kadaif maker pours very thin pancake-like dough into the copper pot and in seconds the dough lands onto the platform as dough strands. The maker unloads the ready dough strands right onto the stall where they are kept uncovered (scandal!) probably indicating they will be sold within hours. I think only few homecooks these days would repeat the feat of my husband’s grandma who used to make kadaif at home with a ladle covered with tiny holes and a frying pan.
We entered the han, saw the plane tree and immediately got seated next to the other künefe pilgrims at Çınaraltı Künefe. The place was a recommendation of our regular customer in Sapanca: while I watched all the Antakya episodes of the Turkish food and travel shows Özgür was reaching out to the local knowledge directly. “Be there at 4-5 in the afternoon, you don’t want to eat kunefe when you are full”, said Kerim Bey, an Antakya-born living in Istanbul.
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What we saw there only remotely looked like the künefe we ate the night before. Arranged on a large round tray that would hold 10-12 portions the sweet was cooked on the charcoal. “This is how we make künefe at home’, explained Yıldız Teyze, wife of Mustafa Amca later, - “on the stovetop instead of the oven”. This künefe did not have that even caramel color on the surface and was covered with many burned dots.
To the table our künefe arrived hot and swimming in the sugar syrup. It had a characteristic charred taste to it and the cheese - cheese was really the star in this künefe. There was a lot of it, it was miraculously crumbly but incredibly stretchy at the same time (think mozzarella before it fully melts) . “The longer the cheese strands the better the künefe”, I recalled the warning of Mustafa Amca. As we were sipping tea Özgür confessed, “In Anamur we had a künefe salon where an usta from Antakya was making it and his künefe looked exactly like this!”
Neither Özgür nor myself could tell which style of künefe we preferred though. But for our third bite we came back to Çınaraltı Künefe: whatever the style is we liked it best to enjoy künefe later afternoon under a branchy plane tree.
