Pear Tartine

Dear Devon,

I subtly lobbied for an apartment located near one of Barcelona’s many vibrant markets. Within its various and colorful streets, Barcelona houses forty green markets, selling an abundance of brightly colored fruits and vegetables, farm fresh eggs, sun dried fruits, cured meats and cheeses, and rich meats, fish, and poultry. My local market, situated a mere 3 blocks away, is a deep well of inspiration. Saturdays are the major market days. The crowds and rush are incredibly dense. At the moment, I don’t have the nerve to slide up to the counter. I do my shopping on the much slower paced Tuesday afternoon.

I am slowly making friends with the local vendors, who are starting to show a glint of recognition as I walk pass. For their part, they are very patient with my faltering Spanish and American indecisiveness. The practice of browsing does not exist. Spanish shoppers know exactly what they want, how much of it, and from whom. They don’t ogle and oh-and-ah the crates of pungent spring onions or wonder at yellow plums and mint green skinned citrus fruits. Like a lion, I pace in circles in front of each stall, carefully selecting my purchases and double-checking my conversions from metric to English measurements.

A friendly smile and a cheerful “Hola, buenas tardes” will take you a long way in building relations with vendors. My first week shopping, the fruit lady suspiciously eyed me in that small town way. Though I asked for four pears, she gave me eight and refused to be corrected, even after I persisted. Somewhat defeated, I slunked home with double my order, vowing not to return to her the following week. Midway through the week, I had a major change of heart. Enjoying one of those delectable pears, my resolve failed and I found myself in her debt. The pears were so good that four is not enough to get you through the week, eight was a much more suitable number. The following week, her stall was the first one I visited. I asked for eight pears and hoped I wouldn’t end up with dozen (though I wouldn’t complain too loudly).

Though relatively petite, the pears pack some major flavor. The flavor is clean and distinct, like spring water with undertones of honey and a soft citrus flavor. The pears are wonderfully aromatic, like freshly bloomed blossoms. The rounded shapes fit snugly in the palm of my hand. The soft, yellow skin wonderfully blushed with speckled rose tinted flecks on their smooth bellies. Each bite contains the perfect balance of crunchiness to juiciness. None of that mealy, coarse skinned fruit back home, but napkin worthy, juice dribbling down my chin fruit.

The pears are so tasty that improvement or embellishment is really not necessary. In the end, spreading chocolate-hazelnut butter on freshly baked baguette and topping with pears is not really cooking. It could be considered cheating. But this combination is so good that if you consider this cheating, you can call me a cheater with a capital “C.”

Pear Tartine

Baguette
Ripe pears
Nutella or some similar hazelnut chocolate spread

Using a serrated knife, divide and halve the baguette into six-inch segments. Generously spread each half with a thin layer of nutella. Thinly slice pears lengthwise. Arrange sliced pears on prepared baguette.

Good for a quick dessert or at breakfast with tea or even as a midnight snack. Good anytime.

One For You, One For Me Pear Apple Crisps

Dear Devon,

The best pear I ever ate was in Italy. It weighed over a kilo and was about a foot long. I've never had one quite as good. I seldom eat pears. It's not that I don't like them. In fact, it's the exact opposite, I love them. But I've been disappointed by the mealy, tasteless ones so often that I don't eat them anymore. So when a friend told me about the wonderful pear he ate at lunch, I had some reservations. I decided to go to the exact same store and buy a pear to see for myself. What can I say? He was right. The juice running down my chin was a surefire indication that this was not any old pear. Since that afternoon, I've had pears on the mind. My pear apple crisp is the product of these daydreams.

Though the pears were delicious on their own, I added apples, to give the dessert some interesting texture and a variety of flavors. I am using Golden Delicious for its subtle sweetness and sustained crunchiness even after baking. I spoon the prepared fruit into four 5-inch white fluted ramekins. I like the idea of serving each guest their own pear apple crisp. But, later discovered that the portions were a bit hefty. His and Hers became a 2 for 1 deal. No matter, the remaining desserts will store nicely in the fridge for a quick dessert some other night this week.

I am using a relatively basic crumb topping: butter, flour, brown sugar, rolled oats. Two noticeable changes include a dash of cayenne pepper for a spicy surprise and a hefty 1/2 tsp of salt. Desserts need a bit of savory to calm the sweet. The natural sweetness of the fruits and the spicy cayenne stand up to the extra salt. If you are adverse to over-salted food, reduce to a 1/4 tsp of salt.
Pear Apple Crisp

3 Golden Delicious Apples
3 Bosch Pears
1/4 cup brown sugar
2 tbsp lemon juice
3 tbsp flour
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup sliced almonds

Topping
4 oz cold butter
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup old fashioned rolled oats
1/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp kosher salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter ramekins or large ceramic pan. Transfer to a foil-lined baking sheet. Set aside.

For the filling: Fill a large bowl with ice cubes, water, and lemon juice. Peel, core, and slice apples and pears. Place sliced fruit into lemon water to prevent oxidation. Remove fruit from acidic water. Put fruit into a large bowl, sprinkle with sugar, flour, and cinnamon. Toss until all the fruit is coated. Divide into the ceramic containers or pour into large baking dish. Sprinkle with sliced almonds. Set aside while you prepare the topping.

For the topping: Place flour, rolled oats, brown sugar, cayenne pepper, and salt in a large bowl. Cut butter into cubes. With your fingers, crumble the butter into the flour mixture. Continue to rub the butter into the flour until the mixture forms clumps the size of small peas. This can be easily done with a stand mixer. I don't have one, too heavy and no storage space. Sprinkle the topping over the fruit. Don't push down.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes or until topping is browned and filling is bubbling. It goes nicely with ice cream.

Store any leftovers in the fridge for up to a week covered in plastic wrap. Reheat in the oven at 350 degrees until warmed through 10 - 15 minutes.

Not So Classic Pear Clafoutis

Dear Devon,

Life has been very hectic since Thanksgiving and is about to go crazy all over again. First, a couple of weeks ago, my kitchen was pulled apart by my very capable super, looking for the source of water dripping into the apartment below. It took a week to complete the work. A week and half worth of lost images, thanks to a corrupted memory card, plus the hole where my kitchen sink should have been kept me from posting. Fortunately, both issues have been resolved and I am happily writing to you again.

I saw these cute Seckel pears at the farmers market and had to buy a bagful. I couldn't resist. They were destined for my oven. At first, I thought I would use them in a pear tart. But then I decided they were so special that I needed to try something a bit more adventurous. A few summers ago, I went on a big clafoutis kick. I never made them with the traditional cherries (too much work), but instead substituted blueberries, apples, and sometimes almonds. The results were always the same--delicious.


In the past, The Joy of Cooking's recipe served me well. This time, I followed Julia Child's recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Her recipe is a bit more complicated. If I had read the instructions through to the end, I would've discovered that she wants you to start the cooking the dessert on the stove and finish it in the oven. Of course, I didn't notice this until I had already put the pan into the oven. I don't think it affected the outcome.


It has been a year or two since I made clafoutis. I remembered it to be more like a pancake than a custard. I won't say I was disappointed, but it's hard to overcome an expectation. The subtle flavor of the pear and sweet egg and milk custard were wonderful in combination. The almonds gave a nice bit of crunch to an otherwise smooth and delicate dessert. Unlike a custard, the clafoutis lacked the overwhelming brightness of egg yolk. While egg yolk would have enhanced its richness, I feel it also would have overpowered the soft pear flavor. It would be a shame to destroy the light and clean taste of pear, especially when flavorful pears are so hard to find. I did not have enough milk and used a combination of whole milk yogurt and whole milk.

I have no objections to the Joy of Cooking's take on claufoutis. In fact, I prefer it to Ms. Child's version. But sometimes it's good to try new things.


Pear Clafoutis
Julia Child. Mastering the Art of French Cooking, vol. 1
 
1 lb small pears, Seckel pears
3/4 cup whole milk
1/4 cup whole milk yogurt
3 eggs
1/4 tsp lemon zest
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/3 cup almonds, chopped
2 tbsp butter
1/2 cup flour
1/3 cup sugar

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Fill a large bowl with a few ice cubes, water, and a splash of lemon juice. Peel and halve pears, submerging the pears in the water bath. This will prevent discoloration. I tried coring the first pear; but the fruit was so small and slippery that I quickly became frustrated and abandoned it. Luckily the seeds are small and hardly noticeable in the final product.

In a large mixing bowl, whip eggs with sugar until frothy. Add in milk, yogurt, and vanilla. Beat until thoroughly incorporated. Gradually stir in flour and a pinch of salt. Set aside.

Melt butter in a small saute pan. I used an eight inch copper bottom pan. Arrange the halved pears cut side down in the melted butter. Pour batter over pears. Bake in the oven at 375 degrees for 10 minutes. Lower oven temperature to 350 degrees and bake an additional 30-35 minutes or until the top is nicely puffed and golden brown. Toothpick test it for doneness.

Note: It will sink as it cools.