Life is Like Eating a Slice of Baclava

Just like I can thoroughly enjoy a piece of baclava simply as a joy to my taste buds without worrying too much about the complexities of its baking regime, sometimes we can experience greater joy out of simple life experiences by letting go of our adult critical eye and take on a more child-like wonder of the world around us.

Yesterday I visited my local farmer’s market which is so conveniently close to where I live, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a new shop selling very intriguing varieties of baclava. I can’t claim to be much of a connoisseur of that particular type of pastry, but I know enough to be particularly interested in this shop’s offerings. The crust was light and flaky with a rich dark brown walnut and bright green pistachio filling just begging to be sampled.

So i chose a pistachio slice and brought it home to enjoy on my balcony. And enjoy did I indeed. The baclava tasted even better than it had looked. I have attempted baking my own, and so I have some appreciation of all of the delicate steps one needs to take in order to arrive at this level of near perfection. I took a close look at the pastry and I could make out at least 40 layers of paper-thin dough with honey and pistachio filling interwoven between layers. The overall effect that this layering brings is a much airier and lighter experience and the savory meets the sweet in such subtle and pleasant ways.

When looked upon at the micro level, baclava can seem pretty complex as far as pastries go. Dozens of layers are carefully placed one upon another and even the different tastes are delicate and subtle. But it made me reflect as I was enjoying the experience of eating a piece, that enjoying a piece of baclava doesn’t have to be a complicated process. We don’t have to know exactly how to make our own or inspect every layer before sampling them to know it tastes good and is an enjoyable experience.

How often do we over complicate things that maybe could be more enjoyable if we tried to just experience the moments. I live next to a park where there is a splash pad feature. For the last couple of months I’ve had the lovely experience of hearing the delighted cheers and laughter of hundreds of kids running and dancing and playing in the water. Those kids don’t have to understand the physics or the mechanics that went into the creation of the splash pad to have an amazing afternoon playing there. They are experiencing the simple joy of splashing with friends and family on a hot afternoon.

Now, it might be true that understanding the intricacies of how somethings works or is made could bring a deeper appreciation of a thing. But rarely have I found that making a process more complex brings any more joy our of the ultimate outcome. Young kids generally enjoy trying out new things out of their own merits. They enjoy drawing as its own reward rather than determining whether or not we are good enough at drawing to justify sharing our creations. Somewhere between kindergarten and adulthood, most of us determine what we’re good at and what we have found others are better at.

But just like I can thoroughly enjoy a piece of baclava simply as a joy to my taste buds without worrying too much about the complexities of its baking regime, sometimes we can experience greater joy out of simple life experiences by letting go of our adult critical eye and take on a more child-like wonder of the world around us.