Winter Skies, Kitchen Aglow

It is Thanksgiving in the United States of America, my second home. My angelheart Eric returned to LA yesterday after a heavenly 8-day sojourn in New Zealand, which was far too short. Although terribly depressed, as anyone is when apart from his or her most loved one, I am thankful that he was able to come over and spend some time with me, for it may not be months now until we next see each other.

As is typical in a state of sadness, I felt the need to bake. I also wanted to contribute something to the Thanksgiving table. Of course, we don't have cans of pumpkin purée lining our supermarket shelves in New Zealand - at least, not typically - and butternut squash is not in season, so I couldn't make any purée for myself. I headed to the market for other American favourites in the Autumn: pears and pecan nuts.

I first had pecans by way of the infamous Southern delight: pecan pie. Pandoro Panetteria in Parnell (on the inner-city fringe of Auckland) used to make a nutty and sweet pecan pie. I adored its custard filling made with both brown and white sugar. I say this in past tense because I haven't had one for years and don't know if they still make it. I should stop by. It is criminal that I never had one in all of my years (and Thanksgivings) in the USA - or, at least, I didn't have one that I remember.

I do like pecans a great deal, though. I love their oval shape and the ridges cracked into their maple-to-deep brown skin. Pecans are rich in flavour, particularly of butter, which is perfectly heightened with any recipe that involves melted or brown butter. Storing them isn't terribly difficult. According to the National Center for Home Food Preservation, shelled pecans should be refrigerated or frozen. They need to be kept away from air and light as they have a high oil content; exposure to heat will quickly make the pecan's natural oil go rancid.

Thanksgiving is a time of year that is associated with all things richly hued. This is the season in which I never seem to tire of the clichés that are presented in store fronts or on magazine covers, where everything is brown, orange and burnt red. Deep in a sepia haze, one can be forgiven for wondering what it's like to see "normal" again. Of course, I don't find it suffocating or overwhelming because I don't have the cultural associations that go along with it, whether it be dealing with the emotions caused by family hysteria or by a post-colonial reality. But bring it on: roasted squash, braised mustard greens, carrot puree, fennel gratin, roast turkey (first brined then stuffed with citrus), toffee apples, maple ice cream, brown butter sauce, dark cups of coffee, pumpkin pie, and, of course, all the nuts of the fall: hazelnuts, chestnuts, and pecans...

Pear Crisp
(Adapted from the Brown-Sugar Apple Cake recipe in Martha Stewart Living, October 2006)

95 1/2g (3 1/3oz) butter, melted
2 medium pears (I used Bosc), approximately 2/3 kg (1 1/2lb)
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
2/3 cup brown sugar, any colour depending on desired depth of flavour
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 egg, lightly beaten
2/3 cup pecans, toasted and coarsely chopped

1) Preheat oven to 180 C (350 F).
2) Butter a loaf pan. Mine measures 22 x 13cm (8 1/2 x 5").
3) Peel, core and cut pears into 1cm (> 1/3" but < 1/2") slices. You can dice them, if you prefer a neater presentation when the crisp is inverted after the initial cooling period once baked.
4) Add sliced pears to a medium bowl and toss them with the cinnamon, nutmeg and granulated sugar.
5) Spread the spicy pear slices on the bottom of the loaf pan.
6) In a large bowl, whisk together the brown sugar, flour and salt.
7) Add the egg and butter and whisk until just combined.
8) Stir in the pecans.
9) Pour batter over the spicy pear slices.
10) Bake until the top is a maple brown and a skewer comes out clean, approximately 35 minutes. I checked after 25 minutes and poured out any excess butter that was bubbling on top.
11) Let cool slightly on a rack.
12) Use a knife around the edges of the loaf pan to loosen and invert.
13) Cut into squares or cut across into slices.

The base is chewy and redolent of the butteriness imparted by the pecans, the toasted pieces of which full each mouthful with warmth. The soft slices of pear are spicy in the most comforting of ways - What would Thanksgiving be without spices?

To my angelheart Eric and all my wonderful American friends:
Happy Thanksgiving!

Labels: Afternoon Tea, Crisp, Holidays, Martha Stewart, Pear, Thanksgiving

  Poached pears are the perfect autumnal dessert. They can be poached in red wine or sugar syrup and cognac, and they can be served with a dollop of creme fraiche, with gingerbread, and, as my angelheart Eric and I often prefer, on their own.

Quite often I turn to Tamasin Day-Lewis for inspiration. Her Simply the Best offers fine seasonal recipes highlighting produce and meat at its prime. I have yet to make her Sticky Gingerbread, which she suggests be served with her vanilla and orange blossom water Poached Pears. After making Assabih bi Loz (Almond Fingers) in September, I was worried about using orange blossom water again. My angelheart Eric had said, in his tactful way, that it tasted like soap, and I was not even being heavy-handed. To my delight, he was keen to see how it would work with the pears.

This makes enough for four if accompanied by the sticky gingerbread (I will make it soon!), and is filling for two if served as is. I fiddled with the recipe on account of what we had on hand, so in parentheses find Tamasin's suggestions. We used bartlett pears, which have a tropical aroma that pairs well with citrus.

Poached Pears
(from Tamasin Day-Lewis' Simply the Best)

2/3 pint (400ml) water
2 1/4oz (67g) granulated sugar (vanilla caster sugar)
2 slices of lemon peel (and 2 slices of orange peel)
1 vanilla pod and its scooped-out seeds
2/3 tablespoon orange blossom water
4 firm but ripe pears, peeled, stalks left in, lightly coated with lemon juice to prevent oxidation

1) Make the sugar syrup by boiling the water and sugar with the lemon peel, vanilla pod, and vanilla seeds. Boil until thick, but do not let it turn brown.
2) Add orange blossom water and the pears.
3) Cook at a gentle simmer until pears are just tender when pierced with a skewer - roughly 20-25 minutes.
4) Leave to cool before serving.

The pears hold up really well to the lemon peel and orange blossom water. In fact, the orange blossom recedes a little in the flavor on account of the vanilla, though its aroma lingers. The most exotic of scents filled the kitchen as the pears were being poached; the most delicate of lemon and vanilla aromas wafted throughout the apartment. I look forward to accompanying poached pears with Tamasin's Sticky Gingerbread on a much colder night. 

Labels: Pear, Tamasin Day-Lewis