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.

Pear-Ginger-Orange Blooper

Okay, so this is the recipe I started out to bake. Pear Ginger Upside Down Cake. Doesn't that sound delicious?

Cranky had gifted us with a big bag of pears and oranges from his very prolific trees so I was eager to make something pearish and I just happened to see this recipe on one of my favorite food blogs. How's that for great timing?

When I brought out all the ingredients, however, I realized I didn't have molasses. My choice was the run out to the store or to improvise. Not being a huge fan of molasses, anyway, I decided to try substituting real maple syrple, of which I am extremely fond and of which I had plenty. I could just imagine that maple would add a nice note to the pear and ginger flavors in the cake.

Then, I was looking at the oranges that came with the pears and recalling that Cookiecrumb told me that the zest was the best part of their oranges, so I decided to add an orange worth of zest to the topping for the cake. Another improvement!

Later, right after I had loaded all the (fairly stiff - I shoulda known) batter into the cake pan on top of the pears and topping, I realized that I had left out entirely a key ingredient, the buttermilk. Well, um, that is, I didn't have any buttermilk, either, so I was going to substitute kefir that I had on hand but now had forgotten... *sigh* Some days are like that.

Anyway, I could do nothing but slide it into the oven anyway and hope for the best. I did that and checked it frequently as it rose beautifully and turned a lovely golden brown. When the cake tester came out clean, I cooled it a bit, released it from the springform pan and let it cool completely on a rack.

It was simply delicious. One of the best mistakes I've ever made. The pears were firm and sweet; the topping was sweet but not excessively so. There was a nice hint of ginger without being overwhelming and it complemented beautifully both the orange and the pear flavors. Next time, I will remember to add the kefir, as the crumb was tight and slightly dry, more like pound cake than cake-cake, but I will keep the maple syrup and the orange zest in the recipe for sure. I may add zest to the batter, as well.

It was so good that I had to cut it up and give it away to the neighbors to keep us from eating the whole thing. I credit my baking guardian angel with keeping my mistakes from turning this cake into a true blooper.