How To Make Classic Spanakopita

I’ve been very lucky. I learned to make spanakopita, the Greek spinach and feta casserole encased in filo dough, from a variety of sources — even without the benefit of a Greek grandmother by my side. I had books, I had friends, and eventually, I had professional cooks show me. I’ve also spent a lifetime eating it and enjoying every bite in diners, upscale restaurants, and, yes, versions made by someone else’s loving Greek grandmother.

I noticed a few key things along the way, learned lessons from trial and error, and have modified my recipe over the years to create a fail-proof pie (it’s all in how you fold it), with a filling so rich and flavorful you’ll wonder why you waited so long to make this a part of your home-cooking repertoire.

Putting my own spin on spanakopita came about when I decided to melt the butter with a touch of the fruitiest of Greek olive oils and a fistful of bay leaves. Bay leaves provide a very fleeting flavor that can be hard to pin down, but in this recipe they act as an echo for the more discernible herbs like dill, oregano, and thyme, allowing them to linger on in your mouth — even after the flavor of the bay is gone. This infused butter remains my personal touchstone for taking advantage of baking with filo. I see the space between each sheet of dough as an opportunity to create literal flavor layers. So every time you brush the bay-infused butter over the filo in this recipe, know that it’s in the service of flavor!

Filo dough’s thin, buttery layers are second to none, and in spanakopita they are what holds the rich spinach and feta filling in place and gives this savory pie its crunchy, golden halo. This version, like most, uses premade frozen filo dough, lacquered with melted butter and cooked to reach the epitome of flaky, crunchy goodness.

Filo dough can be finicky. Its thin texture makes it delicate to handle, but it’s also the key to the ethereal shatter we desire after it bakes up. Any time you work with filo dough, keep this truism in mind: it will tear. The filo dough will tear and it will be just fine! And when it does you can layer a few of the large parts of torn sheets between a buttered layer, and the spanakopita will turn out just as delicious. If you’ve have a hard time using filo in the past, save the best-looking sheets — usually the first ones you roll out and gently pull off — under a separate damp kitchen towel and use them for the very top of the pie.

All good spanakopita fillings share the same core characteristics: an abundance of deeply flavored greens, the generous use of herbs, and a cheese that complements the greens. Once you’ve given this recipe a try, go out and make it your own. Mix up the greens you use, change up the herbs, and explore the nuances of different cheeses.

• The greens can vary: Whether it’s the spinach invariably used in the most classic version, or any combination of dark leafy vegetables used in its place, these greens are cooked down and seasoned with aromatics like garlic, shallot, and onion to create a deep earthy base to contrast the salty cheese. If you’re moving away from spinach, stick with baby versions of tougher vegetables like collards or kale and avoid super-bitter greens like watercress and dandelion greens. No matter what green you use, you will need to get rid of any thick or hard stems for a consistently tender bite.
• Use herbs aplenty: Greek food is herbaceous. Marjoram and oregano are wildly popular and I use either or both along with plenty of fresh dill fronds to perk up the filling. I’ve even used some minced fennel tops for a hint of licorice twist. You don’t have to stop there: Add basil for a sweeter herb profile, parsley for a bright grassy taste, or even cilantro. A word of caution regarding rosemary — a little goes a long way; add too much and it can overpower the dish.
• Not every cheese works: I tried many alternatives with mixed success. I stick with feta for the salty kick. Fortunately, good feta can now be found at many supermarkets. If I can find creamy feta, I use that cup for cup if I want a easy way to a creamier filling. I also have to admit that I often use about one-third freshly shredded kefalotyri cheese — a hard sheep’s milk cheese with a sharp, salty flavor — when I make this for a special occasion. Many years ago I hunted it down from specialty shops in New York City, along with creamy feta, and it was such a surefire winner that it may have won over my then-young meat-eating husband to this vegetarian dish. Kefalotyri, which slightly melts, is still hard to find to this day, but is a worthy variation if you want to experiment.