I once had this gruff professor who led a graduate seminar I attended as a lone undergraduate. I spent each session convinced someone would discover I had wandered in by mistake as my terror of the stoic professor mounted.
In the last session, a student brought impressive homemade baklava to share. I’ll never forget looking over to the professor, silently and deliberately chewing as she teared up, her humanity on full display. Her demeanor softened as more of us turned toward her. She swallowed, then tenderly explained to us how perfect foods could, at times, make her weep.
Ever since that day, I’ve held baklava to high standards and usually avoid buying any for fear of disappointment. I have certainly never tried to make it at home.
Enter Sofra (1443 W Northern Lights Blvd), the new Turkish breakfast and lunch cafe. As I entered my eyes were drawn to a giant tray of baklava cut into diamond shapes sitting on the counter, and next, to the colorful wallpaper, full dessert case, and vibrant dishes on tables.
Colors of any kind have a healing quality this time of year. Our eyes have settled for grimy snow, dirty streets, and grey skies for weeks now. Sofra was immediately a balm for my breakup weary eyes.
Sofra is the sister restaurant to Turkish Delight, just a couple miles east on Northern Lights Blvd. It fills a gap in Anchorage brunch and lunch offerings by departing from standard American fare.
We ordered the Serpme Kahvaltı, or Turkish Breakfast. Our table disappeared as a large platter, a bread basket, and various small dishes of housemade sweet and savory spreads and colorful bites were served. We tasted small bowl of olives; two types of Turkish jam, orange and sour cherry, both served with butter; a sweet molasses tahini; kızartma (fried veggies) with tomato sauce; acuka (pepper paste based spiced breakfast dip with nuts); fresh tomato, cucumber, and herbs; blocks of a mild, crumbly feta and fried halloumi; fresh strawberries and oranges; dried apricots, dates and figs; nuts; and a dish with zahter (a Turkish herb blend similar to za’ata, usually made of thyme, oregano, sesame seeds and sumac) mixed with a zippy extra virgin olive oil.
We also added Sofra’s rendition of a favorite brunch dish, Çılbır (pronounced “chill-burr”), to the table, which is poached eggs served atop a rich, garlicky yogurt and served with two small slices of bread. My friend ordered the notoriously strong Turkish coffee, and I tried a Menengiç, described as “wild pistachio coffee with carob & milk powder.”
There is nowhere in town to get a breakfast like this before Sofra. We had a truly delightful meal inventing new sweet and savory combinations slathered atop the toast, or jammed onto oversized forkfuls. The meal filled us up, but not at all with the heaviness a diner omelette, hashbrowns, and a side of bacon would.
My biggest quibble with Sofra is 100% outside their control. All the fresh produce was limp, pale, and sad. Rowing upstream just by serving it, what we have here in April and May cannot compare to a traditional Turkish meal where the raw produce is included as a celebration of natural flavors and freshness. It’s easy to forget our Sysco-ified fruit and veggies here ever once grew on a tree or vine at all. We left most of the raw produce on the plate.
Not wanting to mess with our just-right fullness, we took some of the enticing patisserie to go. We chose the Ekler (a mini éclair with a rich vanilla pastry cream topped with chocolate), a mascarpone lemon cookie, and, apprehensively, the Soğuk Baklava. The cookie and ekler were both delicious treats. Of course, I was nervous to try the baklava but ultimately shouldn’t have been. It was perfectly light without thick honey or cloying sweetness and the ultra delicate phyllo crunch.
Those bites will either end my baklava reticence or reset the clock on another decade until I order it next. Either way, I thought of my professor, her unexpected softness, and was reminded of a day I learned even the most guarded among us can be undone by something beautiful and sweet.
Jenny Weis writes for a variety of Alaska nonprofits and causes in between keeping up on Alaska's doughnut scene, sliding on snow, and gawking at cool plants and rocks along local trails.
