Strong Guts
My Beloved and I have strong guts. We ate slices of this Bartlett pear croustade.I made the croustade because we had invited our next door neighbor over for dinner out of pity for his bachelor state - his wife was away on a girlie weekend with her best friend.
I used the last of the pears that Cranky gave me and I've been hoarding in the fridge. I didn't even peel them, just cored and sliced them lengthwise, tossed them with a minimal amount of sugar and allspice, piled them in a paté brisée crust, dotted them with butter and folded the crust up around them before sliding it into a 350 degree oven for about 40-50 minutes. It came out leaking the most beautiful bubbly brown pear juice you've ever seen escaping a buttery crust and looking adorably rustic. It perfumed the whole house.
So, I slid it, still warm, onto my beautiful, handmade glass plate, the one with the wreath of greens and flowers around the edge melted into the design, the biggest plate I own, the one I excitedly bought 20 years ago in Rochester, NY direct from the artist who made it. I loved that plate. I discovered it was made of non-tempered glass when it cracked dramatically into three pieces underneath my cooling croustade.
Needless to say, I couldn't serve it to our neighbor (he's a nice guy) with glass slivers in it. I sorrowfully consigned my much-loved plate to the recycling bin double-wrapped in paper bags, slid the ruined croustade back onto the baking sheet to cool completely, and rushed down to the local market to pick up some small cookies and coffee ice cream to make an emergency dessert of ice cream sandwiches.
The next day, I kept thinking, "I gotta just throw this croustade away!" But the pears were so beautiful and the crust was just right and the plate broke cleanly (except for a few small slivers of glass on my counter) and, well, I just couldn't do it. So, for lunch today I cut myself a healthy wedge, heated it gently in the oven and ever so gingerly took a bite. It was everything I had hoped it would be - buttery, fruity and spicy. When My Beloved got home, he did the same. So far, no glass. And, even if we do encounter some, we have strong guts when it comes to pear croustades.
posted by Zoomie at
5:06 AM
6 Comments:
I don't know what I admire the most - your cooking skill or your courage in braving glass splinters to savor that tart! Bon appetite!
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I'm happy about your croustade, and really sad about the plate.
O noes on losing a favourite plate, most breakages at our place involve a fast moving cat.
Still, eaten carefully I'm sure it will be fine!
....and know, you really do, that if you had served it to your neighbor he most certainly would have been the only one to swallow a sliver of glass.
Kudzu: Ha ha!
(word verification: flampan)
Nancy, no splinters at all and we have finished the tart. Shoulda served it to the guest!
Cookiecrumb,
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Appreciate your understanding about my plate. Still down in the mouth about that.
Morgan, you, too. I know about the cat thing, too, although mine was just plain clumsy. Pretty, but clumsy.
Kudzu, you're so right - Murphy's Law would have seen to that, for sure!
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