Bougatsa me Tyri is the savory side of Thessaloniki's bougatsa: the same hand-pulled, translucent phyllo and brushed butter as the sweet version, but wrapped around cheese instead of custard. The angle worth holding onto is that this is a morning savory pastry, not a dessert with a twist. It is cut at the counter into ribbons with a metal scraper, served warm, and eaten standing, often with a coffee.
The cheese filling is the whole argument. A good bougatsa me tyri leans on a semi-soft Greek cheese with enough salt and tang to carry, sometimes loosened with a little semolina or egg so it sets into a creamy, sliceable layer rather than a greasy pool. The phyllo is stretched by hand until you could read through it, layered with butter so it bakes into distinct shattering leaves, then closed over the cheese and baked until the top is deep gold. Done well, the contrast is sharp: the pastry crackles, the cheese underneath is molten and salted, and a cut slice keeps its shape. Done poorly, it slumps three predictable ways: phyllo rolled thick so it eats like soft bread, cheese that breaks into oil under heat instead of holding together, or underseasoning that leaves the whole thing flat. No sugar goes near this one, which is the clean line between it and the sweet bougatsa me krema.
The split in this family is by filling rather than shape. The custard bougatsa me krema and the spiced-meat bougatsa me kima share the identical pulled-phyllo shell; each is a distinct preparation and deserves its own article rather than being crowded in here. Within the cheese version, the variation is mostly the cheese itself, milder or sharper depending on the shop, and the ratio of filling to pastry. It is sold by weight, cut to order, and falls off fast as it cools: best within minutes of the cut, while the leaves still shatter and the cheese is still warm.