Pear

This crustless pie is an easy dessert to prepare from scratch. It’s perfect for fall, when pears are at their peak. And because it has a custard base, it needs no accompaniment.

Like many food-oriented folk, I have a serious kimchi obsession going. But I didn’t want just any old kimchi recipe in this book. And I knew just where to turn in search of a recipe that has a little something extra: my friend Deb Samuels, cooking teacher and coauthor with Taekyung Chung of The Korean Table: From Barbecue to Bibimbap. Deb keeps up on all things Korean, and she told me that not only is it becoming more fashionable to salt kimchi less than traditional recipes call for, but also that the water-soaking process probably can be skipped entirely. She also said one of her favorites is a white kimchi with a main ingredient of Asian pear, which happened to already feature strongly in my Korean Short Rib Tacos (page 92). Why not try a kimchi with cabbage and pear together? Of course, she was right on the money. Look for Korean chili powder, which has a distinctive heat but a mellow, sweet undertone, in Asian supermarkets; for kimchi, there really is no substitute. Once you have your ingredients, this kimchi could hardly be simpler to make, and the slight sweetness and crunch it gets from the pear make it positively haunting. Besides using it on the tacos, use it on Kimchi, Ham, and Fried Egg Pizza (page 107) and Fried Rice with Cauliflower and Kimchi (page 136).

This cobbler is sooo good and sooo easy. It’s unbeatable topped with vanilla ice cream. You can substitute peaches or pineapple tidbits for the pears.

This versatile fruit sauce is excellent with both Pumpkin Waffles (page 138) and Buttermilk Waffles (page 135). Try stirring it into yogurt, spooning it on top of ice cream, or serving it as you would a fruit cup. Bosc pears work the best here because they are juicy, yet they hold their shape. Use a softer pear and you may wind up with pear sauce, which certainly tastes good, but it isn’t as visually appealing as this raisin-flecked chunky compote. If storing for later use, cool the compote completely before covering it with a lid or plastic wrap. This will keep in the refrigerator for up to one week. If the compote is cool, reheat it over low heat to serve hot. Or you can serve it chilled or at room temperature.

This is a great fruit dish in the autumn, when the apples and pears are at their peak. Make it a few hours ahead of time, if you like, and leave it at room temperature until ready to serve. You may want to heat it briefly in a 300°F oven before serving. Choose a tart apple, such as Granny Smith, or any good local apple. This could be served as a side dish, as a starter, or even as dessert!

Choose your favorite fall fruit to adorn this sweet focaccia. The great Italian cook who taught me how to make it recommended throwing three tablespoons of water into the lower part of the oven (below the pan of focaccia) three times during the first ten minutes of baking. The steam created results in a crispier crust. Try it, but be careful not to extinguish the pilot light or soak the focaccia!

A Southern tradition, chow-chow is a spicy, pickled fruit-and-vegetable relish that utilizes the produce at the end of the harvest. The fruit and vegetables can vary from recipe to recipe, and can include green tomatoes, sweet peppers, onions, cabbage, carrots, and cucumber. Since Meme and Dede had a pear tree in their yard, they made chow-chow with pears. When I called Aunt Louise to ask for this recipe, she started reciting, “A peck of pears, peeled, cored, and sliced.” I laughed. Members of my family teasingly offer loving sentiments accompanied by the phrase, “A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.” But that is pretty much the extent of my definitive knowledge about a peck. However, a peck is an actual measurement: one-fourth of a bushel, which is about fifty pounds, depending on what is being measured. Bushel and peck baskets made of curved wooden slats with thin wire handles are still seen at farmer’s markets and farm stands all across the South.

There’s an ancient pear tree at the edge of Mama’s driveway. The pears have thick green skin, are very aromatic, and have an intense pear flavor. Most certainly a now-nameless heirloom variety, they appear to be similar to an Anjou or a Bartlett. Remember the canned pears often served with cottage cheese in the school cafeteria? Those are Bartlett pears. Anjou pears are distinctive in that they remain green even when fully ripe. Meme and Dede preserved the pears from the yard in quart containers packed in heavy syrup. Meme served them chilled for dessert and topped with grated Cheddar cheese for “salad.” One of our favorite treats was the deep-fried, half-moon-shaped pies she made with pureed pears and biscuit dough.

Not that long ago, for most of America, “cheese” meant pre-sliced singles wrapped in plastic, or insipidly flavored orange wheels produced in America’s heartland. Any cheeses considered “gourmet” were imported from Europe. Fortunately, artisanal cheesemaking is now thriving all over the country, including the South. I love the fresh goat cheese from the Wehner family’s Green Hill Dairy and Sweet Grass Dairy in Thomasville, Georgia. Their cows and goats roam freely in the woods and graze in lush, green pastures. This idyllic existence, the family maintains, makes them so content that they produce the most delicious milk, which, in turn, makes the best cheese. Sweet, roasted Bosc pears, tender baby arugula, and mild creamy goat cheese make this simple, elegant salad sing.

These poached pears are especially luscious with their Pacific Rim accent. Locally grown, in-season, organic pears are far superior for this slow-cooked dessert than store-bought fruit shipped from far away.

This is a standard tart in France, and I thought the combination of pears and chocolate on flaky pastry was so tasty I had to bring it back. This would be a perfect ending to one of the “Impressing Your Date” meals. It’s easy, tastes great, looks really cool, and can all be done ahead of time.

Choose a fragrant, tasty variety of pear for this granita, such as Comice, Bartlett, or French butter. Few people think of pairing pears with chocolate, but it’s a surprisingly good combination, and once you taste it, you’ll wish you’d known about it sooner. Don’t hesitate to use one of my Perfect Pairings that follow the recipe to make up for lost time.

Use fragrant pears that are buttery ripe and slightly soft to the touch. You’ll be glad you did when you taste how good this simple sorbet is. Pears are one of the only fruits that ripen off the tree, so if your pears are rock hard when you buy them, chances are they’ll transform into soft, luscious, sorbet-worthy fruits in a few days. When just right, pears exude a strong, unmistakable sweet pear fragrance at the end opposite the stem. Bartlett, Comice, and French butter pears are varieties that I recommend.

When friends found out I was writing a book on ice cream, many felt compelled to “help out” by passing along really odd flavor combinations they’d either seen or heard of. But somehow, I just couldn’t seem to get enthusiastic about combinations like Clam-Raisin or Duck Fat Swirl. However, when Judy Witts raved about this combination, which she’d enjoyed at her local gelateria in Florence, it piqued my interest. After a bit of trial and error, I discovered that the key to preserving the character of pecorino is to very finely dice the cheese rather than grating it. The little bites of salty cheese are the perfect counterpoint to the fruity, pear-flavored custard.

This ice cream combines the best of two worlds: deeply caramelized sugar and sweet, juicy pears. Use the ripest, most flavorful pears you can find, since you want the flavor of the pears to stand up to the slightly burnt taste of the caramel. I recommend Comice or Bartlett pears, which have a heady, roselike aroma when ripe. Don’t be alarmed if the sugar hardens and crackles when you add the pears. Keep cooking, and the pears will dissolve the caramelized sugar nicely.

When I was going over the recipes to include in this book, next to this one my editor wrote in big letters “BY ALL MEANS.” So I took that as a “yes.” Because of the caramel, the mousse is slightly soft even when frozen, so it’s best stored in the coldest part of your freezer. But don’t forget about it back there. Once you taste it, I doubt that you will.

The surprising zip of fruit chutney counters the richness of mousse au chocolat and adds a whole other dimension to this unconventional dessert. I don’t know if it’s a combination the French would approve of, but when I made it as a pastry chef on a cruise line, a few thousand people gave their consent. Each plate that came back to the kitchen was scraped clean. Unlike traditional chocolate mousse that uses uncooked eggs, this one has a cooked custard base. So, there’s no reason for anyone with concerns about consuming raw eggs to jump ship rather than dive into this dessert full-steam ahead.

I’ve been living with a kitchen a fraction of the size of a normal kitchen for a number of years, so I’m always looking out for desserts that can be made with a minimum of fuss. And I’m happy when a dessert requires a minimal amount of counter space because between my imposing stand mixer and the half-eaten chocolate bars and other edibles scattered around my kitchen (and on my desk, and in my living room, and, I’m not embarrassed to say, sometimes even in the bathroom), I’m lucky to have enough space to peel a few pears. That’s a good thing, actually, because it means I can make this dessert all winter long, no matter what shape my kitchen counter is in. Once peeled, just pop the pears in the oven, and when they come out, strain out the liquid and use it as a base for one of the best—and easiest—caramel sauces imaginable.

I’m a big fan of fruit crisps. When I worked at Chez Panisse, I learned I wasn’t alone—they were more popular than our signature dark chocolate cake. But I’m not entirely convinced that I’d choose a fruit crisp over chocolate cake. Maybe I’d order both in the name of research. This fruit crisp topping, made with crunchy polenta, stands up well to the juiciest mélange of fruits. Here, I mix apples and pears, and it may seem like a lot of fruit when you’re doing all that peeling and slicing, but it cooks down considerably during baking. Use a good baking apple, such as Gravenstein, Winesap, Pippin, Northern Spy, or Cortland.

An Italian acquaintance once pleaded, “Please—tell your American friends not to bring us any more maple syrup. Basta!” At first, I didn’t quite understand. I mean, who doesn’t love maple syrup? But then I remembered that while we Americans love to douse everything we can with the sticky stuff, Italians take their infamous 30-second breakfast by downing a quick espresso at their corner caffè and never belly up to a stack of pancakes or plate of waffles in the morning. Since I’m not Italian, any gifts of maple syrup are encouraged. And I promise not to save it just for breakfast.

While vacationing in Paris, I fell in love with the delicious fruit tarts. Here is my whole grain, sugar-free version with a fragrant frangipane filling made in the classic tradition using finely ground almonds. Now you can indulge and feel great afterwards. C’est magnifique.

I call this “company food”—as in, what can I make for company that’s easy but impressive? Poaching a pear sounds fancy, but all you’re doing is simmering it in a fruity broth. The poaching softens up the pear, making it a breeze to chew and digest. The Saffron Broth turns the pears a beautiful sunset yellow color. Or if you prefer, check out the vanilla and star anise variations below. All three are light, refreshing, and nourishing; if you’re looking for extra calories, top with a generous dollop of nut cream.