Pear Crostata

Experimented on my friends again today. I don't really see them as guinea pigs, and I certainly hope they don't feel that way. Often though, I try recipes for the first time when asked to bring something for a pot-luck. It's that "sink or swim" method that I, for some weird reason, seem to enjoy. "I sure hope this works, because if it doesn't, there's no time to make something else".

Sheesh. Maybe I don't have enough stress in my life. Although, if you really think about the term "pot-luck", maybe I shouldn't feel bad: Pot = dish of food and Luck = element of chance. I'm simply contributing to an ancient and cherished cultural tradition. Think about it, if I only brought dishes that were a "sure thing"... how then is the "luck" aspect to be represented?

Today I made a Pear Crostata based on my favorite Peach/Plum Crostata* recipe. Not exactly flying blind, I'll admit, but still I had no idea how the pears would act, or what proportions of stuff to mix with them, etc.

My tendency is to lean on a recipe like a person with a broken leg leans on crutches. I need it to support me and take some pressure off, but eventually find that there are times when I can set it aside and hop around on one foot. So this is me, doing my part to preserve our rich history... without crutches.

Pear Crostata
[[Original pastry recipe is no longer available. New recipe has been linked below]]

1/2 recipe of Prodigal Pastry
zest and juice of one lemon
1/8 cup flour
1/8 cup sugar
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp cardamom
5 large pears (or the equivalent)
1 small handful of cranberries

Prepare the pastry according to the recipe. Roll out to a 14" circle (don't worry if it's not perfectly round). Put pastry back into fridge, either on a baking sheet or loosely rolled between two pieces of plastic wrap.

Pre-heat oven to 400°. In a large bowl, mix together the lemon, flour, sugar and spices. Peel and core the pears, then cut them into 1/4" slices (or 1/2" cubes). Work with one pear at a time, dropping the slices into the mixture in the large bowl and stirring them gently every so often. Chop the cranberries (not too fine), and set aside.

Take the rolled out pastry from the fridge, and if not already on a baking sheet, center it on one now. Using your hands or a slotted spoon, transfer the fruit from the bowl to the pastry surface. Do not dump the fruit from the bowl onto the pastry! Spread/arrange the fruit evenly over the pastry, leaving a 2" border around the edge. Discard any extra liquid on the bottom of the bowl. Scatter the chopped cranberry evenly over the pears.

Fold edges of pastry inward, and lightly press the folds that form as you go around. Brush the folded edge with a little water and sprinkle with sugar. If it's warm in the kitchen, or if (like me) it takes longer than you thought it would to arrange the fruit and play with the edges, pop the whole thing (pan and all) back into the fridge for 15 minutes.

Bake at 400° for 15 minutes, then drop oven temp to 375° and bake for another 25, or until crust is nice and golden/amber colored. Let rest on pan for 5-10 minutes, then carefully slide onto a rack to finish cooling. After that, I usually slide it onto a big cutting board and cut it into wedges with a pizza-cutter.

Notes: Overall, it turned out well. My biggest complaint was that I should have made two of them. Always make more than you think you'll need. It was a little heavy on the cardamom (corrected amount is listed). The pear slices did not hold up during the careful stirring part. Next time I'll dice them instead. Try increasing the amount of cranberries and tossing them with the pears. Try ginger instead of the cardamom. Still not a fan of baking with pears. If they're firm enough to work with, they're unripe; if they're ripe, they'll fall apart and not hold their shape. They sure do taste lovely though.

*I'm noticing that all the crostati I've made use fruit that begins with the letter-"P". I was planning on trying apple next, but maybe I should use papaya or persimmon instead? Or would Pippins be o.k.?

Baked Pear Pancake with Gingered Maple Syrup

I have a love/hate thing going with pears. At their very best, they are juicy, sandy and honey sweet; still the littlest bit firm and yet ever-so-slightly soft at the same time. They are unlike any other fruit. However, identifying their peak perfect point for consumption is something that eludes me. I always seem to get to them too early when they're rock hard; or too late when they've gone soft. Like with a mushy apple, I feel utterly disappointed after biting into one of those. You don't want to go on eating it, but you don't want to waste it either, so you soldier on and are that much more suspicious of the next one you try. Once bitten, twice shy.

This is the perfect dish to make if you're pear-anoid like me. Or should that be pear-annoyed? (Bad pun either way, I know. I'm so sorry.) The pears are cut up into pieces and cooked in a big pancake. There's no fussing over whether they're "perfect" or not. They are in the supporting cast, not a starring role. True, they have more lines than, say, the flour, milk or butter; but there's no star on their dressing room door. No entourage. No fawning fans.

If anything is the star in this show, I'm thinking it's got to be the Gingered Maple Syrup that I haven't tried yet. We just never seem to have real maple syrup on hand when I want to make this recipe. And unless prices come down, I won't be trying it anytime soon either. Maple syrup used to be a staple, a given, a no-brainer. Now, it's a total luxury item, right up there with caviar and cashmere socks. Maybe I'll put it on my Christmas list. Then, if Santa comes through, we could make this dish for brunch the day after Christmas. Now that would be perfect.

• Baked Pear Pancake with Gingered Maple Syrup, page 125 of Gourmet's Quick Kitchen, 1996

Notes: As I was about to slice open the lemon before juicing it, I thought "why waste the zest?", so I zested it into the flour mixture first. Made a lovely addition. Subtle, but lovely.

Oatmeal Ginger Pear Crisp

I had planned on making Pear-Ginger Preserves today, but quickly realized that my bounty of (free) little pears were too soft to stand up to the rigors of canning. The pear preserves would more than likely become pear mush, and I didn't want to go to all the trouble of canning them only to end up with something I didn't want.

What I also hadn't reckoned with were the interesting things that you can sometimes find in homegrown fruit. Enough said. It turns out that in the end, I wouldn't have had enough pears for the preserves anyway. So, there I was with a bowlful of peeled, cored, cut up, not-so-firm pears in lemon water. A mad panicky search ensued; tearing through my cookbooks for a recipe that called for thusly prepped pears. Cook's Illustrated came through, as they often do.

I had wanted something simple (you may well wonder why I was looking in Cook's Illustrated), and I found the perfect thing: a Pear Crisp. Simplicity itself. It required roughly the same amount of pears that were sitting prepped and waiting, ever so patiently, on my counter. After a little tweaking (because of all the stuff I didn't have), the dessert went together quite fast. I even used the food processor again. Two days in a row... maybe I should just leave it out on the counter next to the toaster? Nah.

Oatmeal Ginger Pear Crisp
Adapted from the Pear Crisp recipe on page 23, Cook's Illustrated, September/October 2007.

For the topping:
1/2 cup walnuts, chopped
1/2 cup flour
1/4 cup brown sugar
6 pieces crystallized ginger, chopped
2 Tblsp sugar
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp salt
6 Tblsp melted butter, cooled

1/2 cup old fashioned oats

For the filling:
2 Tblsp sugar
Pinch of salt
1 tsp cornstarch
2 tsp lemon juice
15 small pears

Preheat oven to 425°. Place rack in lower-center position. Place all topping ingredients except butter and oatmeal into food processor. Pulse in 1-second bursts until nuts are finely chopped. Add melted cooled butter to nut mixture and pulse until wet and crumbly looking. Add oatmeal and pulse until evenly distributed. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together all filling ingredients except for pears. Peel and core the pears, then cut them into chunks no smaller than 1-inch. Toss the cut up pears with the lemon and sugar mixture in bowl. Pour into an 8x8-inch baking dish. Crumble the topping evenly over the pears with your fingers. Bake for approximately 30 minutes, or until topping is browned and juices are bubbling.

Cool on rack for 20 minutes before serving.

P.S. It's another "dessert today, breakfast tomorrow" recipe! I'm really liking these. They're so very versatile...