Sinori: Georgia’s Flaky, Buttery Best Kept Secret

Let’s talk about Sinori – Georgia’s flakiest, creamiest, most unfairly underrated pastry that lives somewhere between a pie, a lasagne, and your best carb-laden dream.

Born in the lush northeastern region of Kakheti, Sinori is what happens when rural ingenuity meets dairy obsession. The origins? As humble as it gets. Georgian farmers, with their enviable access to fresh milk, curds and buttery dough, needed a dish that could feed the family, warm the soul, and use up yesterday’s leftovers. Sinori was their answer. A layered bake made with sheets of thin, unleavened dough called “yufka” or sometimes “lavashi,” generously slathered in melted butter and slumped with matsuni – a tangy fermented yoghurt that could wake the dead.

Unlike khachapuri, its more famous cousin who gets all the Insta-love, Sinori is the introvert of the Georgian carb family. It doesn’t shout, but once you’ve met it, you’ll never forget it. It’s a dish that never tried to be trendy, and frankly, wouldn’t care if it was. It’s here for comfort, not clout.

Now, while the Kakhetians will swear their version is the One True Sinori, you’ll find delightful riffs across eastern Georgia. In Tusheti, they might add cottage cheese or boiled potatoes between the folds. Some swear by the addition of garlic to the yoghurt sauce. Others go full dairy maximalist with extra dollops of sour cream. Each region insists theirs is the original, but that’s Georgia for you – gloriously stubborn and full of flavour.

What makes Sinori so special? It’s deceptively simple but tastes like it took all day. The dough, often brushed with ghee or melted butter before baking, becomes crisp on the edges and chewy in the middle. The matsuni sauce sinks into the folds, making it both rich and tangy. It’s a masterclass in texture. You’ve got crunch, you’ve got melt-in-the-mouth, and you’ve got that slightly sour, creamy hit that makes your tastebuds wake up and text you, “what was THAT?”

Pairing-wise, Sinori is a team player. It goes beautifully with a glass of chilled white Tsinandali – a dry Georgian wine with just enough acidity to match matsuni’s tang. If you’re more of a tea person, try it with strong black tea, no sugar. Or go full rustic and have it with a glass of matsoni drink, if you can find it outside Georgia (spoiler: you probably can’t).

Food friends? Sinori plays well with simple salads – tomato and cucumber with a fistful of herbs is a classic. A side of pickled jonjoli (bladder campion buds, yes really) is also traditional. If you’re really going for it, serve with lobio (bean stew) and pretend you’re at a supra.

Health-wise, Sinori is not pretending to be salad. It’s full of dairy, carbs, and love. Matsuni does come with probiotics, though, and the dish is usually quite low on added salt and meat-free. It’s comfort food that doesn’t try to be anything else. If you’re lactose-intolerant, maybe admire it from afar (or pop a pill and take the risk).

You can find Sinori in family homes and local eateries across eastern Georgia, especially in Kakheti. But don’t expect it to show up on the tourist menu next to khinkali and khachapuri. It’s still a bit of a local secret. Your best bet? Make friends with a Georgian grandma. Barring that, you could always make it yourself.

Sinori recipe:

Start with the dough. Mix flour, water, and a pinch of salt into a soft dough. Roll it into very thin sheets (or buy yufka/lavash if you’re feeling modern). Lightly toast or bake the sheets until just starting to crisp.

For the sauce, whisk together matsuni or natural yoghurt (full fat please), a clove of crushed garlic if you’re brave, and a pinch of salt. Warm some butter until golden and nutty.

Tear the dough sheets into wide ribbons. Layer them into a buttered baking dish, generously spooning matsuni and melted butter between the layers. Don’t be shy – this is not the moment for restraint.

Bake in a moderate oven until the edges are crisp and golden, and the whole thing is bubbling gently. Serve warm, with extra yoghurt on the side.

It’s not fancy. It’s not photogenic. But it’s magic. And it’ll win your heart faster than a Georgian toastmaster with a litre of wine and a poem about horses.