Every morning, the aroma of freshly baked pastry wafts down the wandering old town streets of Gaziantep, Turkey. When I attended cooking school in the city, I’d often follow my nose straight to the source: a shop where coils of golden, flaky kol böreği, still warm from the oven, fogged up the display windows.
Throughout my time in Turkey, I was never far from börek, a category of pastries shaped from a thin dough; filled; then baked, fried, boiled, or steamed. The countless varieties of Turkish börek (some of which are called “böreği”) each have different names that describe how they look or are prepared. Oblong, fried sigara böreği were always among the mezze spread at dinners out with friends. On Saturday mornings, I’d eagerly wait in a line outside the best börekçi to purchase su böreği, a squiggly-layered, boiled and then baked type, oozing with cheese. And at school, I cooked several other varieties, from the pillowy, juicy meat turnovers known as Çi börek to an
