writer and photographer JULIA MATUSIK
I've been monitoring the pears in the fruit bowl. They were, of course, rock hard when I bought them from the roadside stall. I chose the glou morceau variety, also known as spring dew, not because of any preference for its classic pear flavour or any particular ability for this variety to cook well, but rather because I like the name. It sounds old, as if it has a history – a romantic pear story not found in the ordinary-sounding Williams or Packham pears that dominate the supermarket varieties.
Pears are picked unripe; their ability to continue ripening after they have been harvested is a tick on the plus side of the pear column. However, it also works against the pear. In recent years, consumption of pears has steadily declined. We eat just over 2kg of pears a year compared with about 10kg of apples. One of the reasons shoppers gave for their reluctance to buy pears is that they are hard or unripe in the shop. Other reasons given for the decreasing popularity of this once fruit bowl staple is that they are tasteless, having been in cold storage for too long, and that choosing a good pear is difficult.
It is true that determining the time of perfect ripeness can be fraught. The American philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson, said, "There are only 10 minutes in the life of a pear when it is perfect to eat." He wouldn't be far wrong – they go from seemingly inedibly hard to overripe in mere moments. It is perhaps this elusiveness that has contributed to the pear's reputation for fickleness and the subsequent demise of its popularity.
An overripe pear is almost as bad as an underripe one; gritty and woolly, it loses flavour and appeal. If, however, you manage to time things just so, the perfectly ripe pear is a divine thing. The texture not too hard and not too soft, a slight resistance when bitten but yielding almost immediately, an obvious juiciness and a fragrant, almost floral flavour. It is truly superb. The perfect pear, determined through a combination of sweet aroma and an ever so slight give in the flesh surrounding the stem, should be enjoyed in its unadorned state.
Anything less than this, and they are perhaps best cooked in some way. Poaching firm, slightly underripe pears is an excellent way to improve their texture. A saucepan filled with half a litre of water and a cup of sugar should provide enough liquid to poach four pears. You should peel the pears and can leave them whole (scoop out the core and seeds with a teaspoon or melon baller, if you prefer), or peel, core and cut them into quarters. Flavour the water with some spices, such as cardamom, a vanilla pod and a strip of lemon peel. Or try a cinnamon stick and a star anise with a strip of orange zest. Experiment with flavours you enjoy. Simmer the pears gently for about 10 minutes before pressing the tip of a small knife into the flesh. The pear should be soft but not mushy. If you started with particularly firm pears, you might need to leave them for a few extra minutes.
A supply of poached pears is a convenient and tasty standby for breakfast. Serve atop muesli, yoghurt, weekend pancakes or French toast. Spread a toasted crumpet with ricotta cheese and poached pear. Add poached pears to a cheese board or use them as a base for dessert. While they can be served simply with cream or ice-cream, a one-bowl cake takes things to the next level.
Melt 200g of salted butter in a small pan. While it is cooling, put 180g of almond meal, 75g of plain flour, 200g of caster sugar, and 1/2 teaspoon of baking powder into a bowl. Use a balloon whisk to give it a mix and remove any lumps. Pour in the butter, 4 eggs and 1 teaspoon of vanilla paste and mix well. Spread the batter into a 23 cm round shallow cake tin, lined with baking paper. Arrange quarters of poached pear on top and bake for 45-50 minutes. You can serve this warm or at room temperature.
For an autumnal take on a pavlova, you might like to try it topped with poached pears, a swirl of chocolate sauce and a scattering of toasted chopped hazelnuts. Similarly, you could make quick individual seasonal trifles by layering in a glass, roughly torn cake pieces drizzled with your liquor of choice, custard, cream, poached pears, and a scattering of toasted flaked almonds. Its presentation and flavour far outweigh the effort.
Pears need a marketing campaign, something that highlights the appeal of this out-of-favour fruit. Something to stop farmers from pulling up their trees and replacing them with more economically viable crops. You can do your bit – eat more pears!
Julia Matusik is the complete foodie. She has had market stalls, organised farmer’s markets, run a cafe, done postgraduate studies in gastronomy, conducted cooking classes and judged preserves and cakes at the Brisbane Show. She cooks most days and, perhaps most tellingly, she misses cooking when she goes on holiday. Julia and her husband Michael recently moved from Brisbane to Geeveston, where they now live in an 1890s farm cottage, surrounded by a seasonal rhythm far more pronounced than the life they knew in the sub-tropics. More of Julia Matusik’s writing and recipes can be found at www.juliaspantry.com.au.
