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DISH: That’s the Pome of it
Food preferences sometimes makes no sense. Some of us love apples, but have little appreciation for the pear. Apples are lauded for their firmness. Pears eaten dripping over the sink earn accolades. But firm pears in a salad? Or on a cheeseboard? Ooh la la! Or, in English – yassss. Though their flesh and flavor are different, apples and pears share a botanical category and growing season. As pome fruits, or members of the rose family, apples and pears have a slim core surrounded by a fibrous membrane. They flower in spring on deciduous trees, bearing fruit later in summer and into early fall. There are some 3,000 types of pear and thousands more of apples. Neither started in North America, but now North America produces many. Apples have a marked place in history and idiom. Though the Bible did not indicate which actual fruit tempted Eve, the apple became the symbolic target. Blame Milton for the poetic reference. But he was only capitalizing on a biblical translation from the fourth century AD. Scholars believe his reference has roots in the dual meaning of the Latin word, malus, itself translated from the Hebrew “peri.” Peri indicates a fruit. At that time, it could have been apple, pomegranate, or grape. (Some favor pomegranate these days, given its ubiquity in the region.) Or it could even have been a pear. But malus means both evil and apple. In the end, it was that dual translation, so easy a pun, that took root. Although the apple is firmly planted in literature, the pear certainly deserves its place in the fall kitchen. To pick the perfect moment to eat a pear, press gently around the stem. A little give and it’s good to go. Too ripe results in a mealy texture, but you can still use them to make a mixed apple-and-pear sauce, a little heavier on the apple than the pear. Pears are best left to ripen on the counter. If they don’t get there, consider roasting them with nuts, dried fruit, and cheese. Then eat them with arugula and/or French bread. Jen recently tested three different versions of roasted pears for Cheryl's Cookies before settling on one that worked best with sweet accompaniments; that recipe will be published soon. And while the silky Harry & David Royal Riviera pears she used could have easily have been eaten out of hand, she sacrificed half-a-dozen to the oven. You can also poach firm pears. These require ZERO baking expertise. The classic dessert Poires Belle Hélène traces its history, most likely, to 19th-century operetta "La belle Hélène" by Jacques Offenbach (or possibly a singer in that operetta), and was created by the founder of French cuisine as we know it, Chef Auguste Escoffier. It centers on a beautiful whole pear, poached in sugared water that has been spiked with cinnamon sticks, vanilla, or other aromatics. After cooling them in their seasoned liquid, pears are drizzled in chocolate and served with ice cream. They can be made a day in advance and left in the liquid for easy assembly later. Some gild the poires with toasted slivers of almond – as tempting a fruit dessert as any Eve, or Adam, probably ever encountered. Of course, both of us experimenting with pear recipes this month led to an internal debate: What's the best way to peel and core them? Jen slices them in half first, pares the skin away with a sharp knife, and cores them with a melon baller. Betsy prefers to skin them whole using a peeler. Then she cuts them in half and cores them with a spoon. But you could also leave them whole and core them from underneath with a straight-edged peeler or an apple corer, leaving the stem intact. However you choose to do it, if you're roasting them, make sure to plane a little bit away from the round side. That they'll sit in a baking dish without rocking. Otherwise, you'll get the only thing you don't want when cooking pears: uneven raw and burned bits.
BK / JK
DISH: Recipes
Savory Pear Tart
This dish is so delicious and flexible. Don’t fight it. Switch out the fruit and/or the cheeses. Don’t skip the caramelized shallots, although a combo of garlic and onion can work, too. 2 tablespoons butter 4 bulbs shallots, peeled, halved, and sliced ¼ teaspoon salt 3-4 sprigs fresh thyme or a couple of sprigs of dried thyme ¼ teaspoon sugar 1 package puff pastry, defrosted according to package directions ½ Bosc pear (or alternative), halved, cored, and sliced thin 3-4 ounces of shredded cheese – mozzarella, blue, Gruyère, etc. 2 tablespoons Parmesan Flour for rolling Parchment paper Melt the butter in a medium sauté pan over medium to low heat. Add the shallots, ¼ teaspoon of salt and the thyme. Cook for 10 minutes until soft. Lower the heat if burning. Add the sugar and continue to cook until caramelized. Let cool. Preheat the oven to 400. Unfold the puff pastry on parchment paper. Flour a rolling pin and pass it several times over the dough. Prick the dough with a fork. Transfer the parchment and pastry together to a baking sheet. Top the dough with the shallots, slices of pear, and both cheeses. Bake 20-25 minutes until the pastry is puffed and brown. Dive in.
BK
Caramel Poached Pears
Pears can be poached in just about any liquid (wine, water, juice). They’re best with just a few additional flavors and some sort of sweetener. For this version, I peeled them with a Y-shaped vegetable peeler, cut them in half, and removed the tough core with a spoon. Smaller pieces equal faster cooking. The traditional Poires Belle Hélène feature whole pears. They take longer to poach and might need occasionally turning to ensure evenly cooked fruit. To remove the core, use a slim knife, straight vegetable peeler, or apple corer from the bottom. 3-4 Anjou pears (or alternative) 1 cup granulated sugar 4 cups water, divided 1 vanilla bean, cut open Parchment paper Peel, halve, and core the pears. Reserve the skins. Place the sugar in a heavy bottom sauce pan. Cover the sugar with just enough water to make it look like wet sand. Over medium or higher heat, bring the sugar to a boil, controlling the heat so it doesn’t start bubbling up the sides. Let the sugar continue to bubble until it turns light brown. This may take 10-15 minutes. While whisking vigorously stirring, slowly add the rest of the water to make the poaching liquid. Add the pear halves, skins, and vanilla. Cover the halves with a circle of parchment that has a steam hole cut in the middle. Bring the water to a slow boil again and cook the pears until tender, 15-20 minutes. Turn off the heat and let cool in the poaching liquid. Plate with ice cream, chocolate sauce, and toasted almonds if desired.
BK
DISH: Recap and Coming Soon
Betsy is in the digital and real world teaching culinary, mixology, and floral skills. Fully vaccinated, she's back to planning events, too. You can hire her for both by contacting her at betsy@theportablegarden.com.
Jen's having fun with seasonal fruit, ice cream and coffee, and basic ingredients for Cheryl's Cookies, meat and grilling thermometers for BobVila.com, and hitting up all the fun spots on Miami Beach for Insider. In the poetry world, she collaborated with 27 other local poets to write a heroic crown for Miami-Dade County Mayor Daniella Levine Cava – watch the poets read it here or read it yourself here – and her poem "Duck" was a finalist, out of more than 1800 entries, in the 2021 Jack Grapes Poetry Prize. It will appear in Cultural Weekly shortly. Other poetry publications include in The Intima and About Place. Coming Soon: Jen's developing holiday recipes for Cheryl's Cookies as well as testing holiday kitchen equipment for BobVila.com (yes, there are eight turkey fryers in her foyer). Two food articles, one on caviar and one on a local chef, are forthcoming in Lifestyles South Florida and a few pieces for a special Miami Herald magazine project will be out in time for Art Basel Miami Beach and Miami Art Week (tune in to find out what locals really think about NFTs!). Poems from her sixth full-length work-in-progress will appear in Aji Magazine, Crab Creek Review, DIAGRAM, DIALOGIST, Escutcheon Review, K’in, Mom Egg Review, Pirene’s Fountain, Rogue Agent, UCity Review, and The Westchester Review, as well as couple of anthologies, one on the pandemic and one on disabilities. You can hire her for writing by contacting her at kavetchnik@gmail.com. Visit her website at jkaretnick.com.
TILL: Poetry
Tales of the Cocktail
Last night, Jon and I had dinner at a lovely Mexican restaurant in Coconut Grove, Los Félix Miami, that is artisanal, sustainable, and natural. We're taking corn imported from Mexican milpas. Local line-caught fish. Mushrooms cultivated just a few miles south. All-natural wines and craft beers (of course). Truly an outstanding newcomer, it also features Krüs Kitchen, an upstairs cafe and market that continues the farm-to-table vibe with a variety of products, including liqueurs. I was delighted to come away with packages of razor clams, which you can find all over Spain but never in the States, and Jon was thrilled with his haul of bitters for his bar. It reminded me of this poem, which I wrote years ago after over-imbibing at – I mean, attending –the inimitable industry beverage conference, Tales of the Cocktail, in New Orleans. It seems sadly prophetic now. Still, those were some days. I think.
Tales of the Cocktail
Save the Sazerac, bring back the absinthe frappé, say that's Amaro, amore-- the future is bitters. Discuss their lengths. Another verse, same as the first: When bartenders want to evoke Hemingway they shake a Sazerac, bring back the absinthe, that miracle cure, that once-banned substance, wield an atomizer, words like "mixology." The future is bitter. Discuss at length. You can use water to dilute the strength but most 'tails are into hyperbole: Sazeracs served straight up, rye plus absinthe, cobblestoning New Orleans with a romance that leaves a foreign taste on the papillae. The future is bitter. Discuss at length the green fairy made infamous, the minx that in turn kept them from selling it honestly. Save the Sazerac, return to absinthe. The future is bitter. Discuss at length.
JK
You can find this and other food-and-drink poems in Brie Season (Kelsay Books, 2014).