What happens when Greeks and Turks collide

I am typically too intimidated to make a particuler ethnic dish for someone of that particular ethnicity. I wouldn't dare make sushi for a Japanese person or paella for a Spaniard. But sometimes my drive to learn a new dish overcomes my fear of judgement by the experts.

One of my coworkers is Turkish, and I was in charge of bringing in a dessert for the team (we alternate, its very Office Space of us). Another coworker of mine suggested I bring something Turkish, to which of course I balked. Then my sister suggested baklava, and I was sold. Not only is baklava one of the tastiest desserts of all time, I also happen to have a Greek next door neighbor that would help me learn the tricks of the trade. I had to tread lightly though, this was difficult cultural territory to navigate. Both the Greeks and the Turks like to take credit for baklava, and I was not looking to stimulate conflict.

So my peaceful baklava mission began. I knew that Turkish baklava was made with pistachios, but I wasn't about to shell a full pound of them so I substituted pecans. My Greek neighbor told me to use cinnimon sticks and lemon juice in my syrup, but she was veheminently against my use of honey. Four hours and several sticks of butter later, I nervously covered up my final product to sit overnight.

Now, I'm not going to pretend it was the best baklava anyone had ever tasted, but it was pretty darn good (can't go wrong with that amount of butter, sugar and cinnimon). My Turkish coworker had the most interesting observation though; he said that it was good "American" baklava. Apparently thats what happens when you bring the Turks and Greeks together: pretty darn good American.