One of my favorite food memories takes me back to an unusual time and place: Monday mornings in my college Biochemistry lecture hall. It was there that two or three times a month, a very generous friend would hand me a suitcase-sized white cardboard box bulging with unsold pastries from her waitressing job 75 miles away in Queens. But this memory is about much more than the desserts–it is just as much about my friend’s bawdy and hilarious stories, populated by people named Kostas, Melina, and Eleftherios. Equally, the memory is about a café I had never yet seen: Omonia.

No surprise then, that when we moved back to New York, my first culinary pilgrimage was to Astoria. I ordered my favorite dessert, a citrusy, lemon-syrup soaked cream custard called galactobouriko, and drank two tiny-but-potent cups of Greek coffee while chatting with Omonia’s owner. We talked about my college friend, the neighborhood, and how things had changed for his business since my last taste of Omonia 15 years ago. He was careful to point out that even though Omonia gained a bit of reknown a few years ago after a high-profile catering gig for My Big Fat Greek Wedding, the restaurant’s recipes remain the same as they have been for decades. And from what I can tell, I believe him.

Chopper, HungryMan, and I stopped in again this week for a late-night dessert. I arrived with a dual mission: first, I wanted to share the joys of galactobouriko with Chopper, who had never tasted one before; no less importantly, I also wanted to taste a Greek dessert that, during my college years, I only heard about but never tasted. My friend never brought me bougatsa in those huge white boxes because it is a pastry that is intended to be served warm. If it’s not heated and fresh, she told me, it’s no good. No microwaving, either. But, she promised, if you like galactobouriko, you will fall in love with bougatsa. Now that I’ve tasted them side-by-side, I see exactly what she meant. Like two phases of the moon, they are similar enough to be mistaken for one another, but different in a few important ways.

Bougatsa is another creamy, custardy phyllo pastry, but unlike its syrup-soaked cousin, it is not flavored with oranges and lemons. Instead, bougatsa is served dry and dusted with ground cinnamon and powdered sugar. Where galactobouriko is sticky and messy, bougatsa is crispy, toothsome, and elegant. Its warmth is also another big asset–heat releases odors from the vanilla and cinnamon, making bougatsa a dessert that is impossible to ignore when it is sitting in front of you. I think I may have to agree with Chopper and HungryMan and admit that I like it just a little bit better than galactobouriko, but as the weather warms up in the city, perhaps my preferences will change once again. And when I do decide to revisit the question of which is better, Omonia is where I’ll go–but this time, I’ll be the one leaving Queens with a big white box of goodies to offer my friends.

Omonia Café, 32-20 Broadway (near the Broadway Station on the N & W lines) in Astoria, Queens, 718-274-6650