Burekas Gvina (בורקס גבינה) is the cheese-filled burekas, built around a salty Bulgarian-style white cheese and treated by many as the default burekas when no filling is specified. The angle is the tension between a rich, lactic, slightly tangy interior and a pastry that has to stay crisp against it. Cheese melts and weeps moisture as it bakes, so this version asks more of the lamination than a drier filling would. When it works, the bite goes from shattering leaves into a soft, salty pull; when it fails, the heat has either dried the cheese into a crumbly knot or steamed the base into a damp pad.
The build is short and the proportions are everything. The dough is the same thin laminated sheet used across the family, brushed so it bakes into separate leaves. The filling is a soft brined cheese, often a Bulgarian or feta-style white cheese sometimes loosened with a little soft cheese or egg so it stays creamy rather than seizing into a hard lump. It is spooned onto the pastry, folded into a triangle or coiled, sealed, washed with egg, and finished with sesame seeds. A common signal is the seed itself: cheese burekas are frequently marked with a different seed or a plain top so a bakery can tell fillings apart without cutting one open. Done well, the pastry stays crisp to the base, the cheese is molten and just salty enough to carry the richness, and the triangle holds together in the hand. Done badly, the cheese is bland and the salt is missing entirely, the filling has overbaked into a dry curd, or excess moisture has soaked the bottom layers so the whole thing folds shut.
Within the cheese reading the variation is mostly in the cheese itself and how it is eaten. Sharper, saltier brined cheeses give a more assertive burekas; milder blends read softer and closer to a breakfast pastry. The standard street service splits it and adds a hard-boiled egg, pickles, and a spoonful of tomato relish or s'chug, the salty cheese and the bright relish playing off each other; that treatment is documented as its own form. Some bakeries lean the filling toward a potato-and-cheese blend, which sits between this and the potato version and is worth distinguishing rather than collapsing together. The meat, potato, mushroom, and spinach fillings are the same pastry around a different center and each deserves its own article. On its own terms, the cheese burekas lives or dies on two things: a brine sharp enough to matter and a pastry crisp enough to survive it.