Barazek

Flour, butter, sugar, milk, yeast. Nothing else. The dough is pulled into walnut-sized pieces, flattened thin, pressed on one side into sesame and studded on the other with crushed Aleppo pistachio, and goes into the oven that way. Being thin it bakes fast and comes out brittle as glass; a few seconds too long darkens the colour and turns it bitter.

It has two faces

Barazek is a cookie you turn over in your hand. The sesame face is toasted and dry. The pistachio face is oily and soft. To get both in one bite you have to decide which side to start from. The ones heavy with pistachio cost more and sit apart on the counter.

Where it comes from

Sources place barazek in Ottoman-era Damascus, and specifically in the Midan quarter. Midan is still the sweet and biscuit district of the city, and before a feast the trays spill onto the pavement. Every sweet shop in the country carries it now, but the name of Midan is still treated as the measure.

Buying it and keeping it

It is sold by weight, mixed or of one kind. Damp is the enemy here: left in the open, barazek softens within a day, so a tin or a sealed box is not optional. If it is going into a suitcase, the less pistachio the safer, because pistachio turns rancid quickly in heat.