Categories
Fruit Desserts The Book

197. Balsamic-Roasted Pears with Pepper and Honey p.809


The recipe

This is how dessert should be, simple, elegant, and not too heavy. I’m rarely in the mood for a slice of cake right after dinner, and the yen for creamy or frozen treats is even more infrequent. However, a cheese plate is always a welcome addition to a meal. I associate this kind of dessert with Italy, almost every menu has some combination of pear and cheese, and honey is a common touch. One handwritten menu I saw there advertised the Cheese and Fear plate, I was hoping for a high concept dessert, but it was just a typo. 

The dish is simple to prepare. You roast pears in a buttered dish for 20 minutes, then pour balsamic over-top and roast for 5 minutes more. Plate the pears, drizzle them with the juices in the pan, and serve with slices of Manchego. Drizzle the plate with honey, and a few grinds of pepper, then serve. 

The Good: With hardly any effort you can create a satisfying end to a big meal. It can pretty well all be done ahead, just pop the pears in the oven while you’re clearing the dishes, and they’ll be ready once everyone’s finished up their glass of wine. The presentation is really simple, but it looks great. Pears have a great affinity for cheeses, and the balsamic glaze makes the whole interaction more appealing. The few grinds of pepper emphasize the sweet-savoury interplay of the dish. 

The Bad: For my money, this dish could have moved a little more to the savoury side. I found the total effect of the roasted pears + balsamic + honey to be pushing the balance too far to the sweet. A more assertively flavoured cheese, or a more acidic balsamic might have brought things into balance. Also, some nuts would have been a very nice addition to the plate. Roasting pears is a delicate affair. I like them roasted so that they loose their gritty-grainy texture, but I don’t want them to turn to mush. Mine ended up a little too firm, half an hour in the oven might have served them better.

The Verdict: Overall I was quite happy with this dish, and I’ll certainly make variations on it again. I think disliking sweet desserts is largely my own personal issue, so it may not turn others off this dish at all. Even with a little more sugar than I would have liked it was an excellent way to finish our dinner.

Categories
Fruit Desserts The Book

109. Strawberry Shortcake p.813

The recipe is a variation on this one from epicurious. The main difference is that the linked recipe uses buttermilk biscuits, while The Book calls for the cream biscuits I wrote about the other day.

It starts with three pints of strawberries, hulled and quartered. This is the kind of recipe instruction that I consistently underestimate. I figure this job will take in around 5 minutes, but it’s really more like 20. I’m a chronic under-estimator of time in all areas of life, so I don’t foresee this changing any time soon. Once the strawberries are quartered they’re mixed with sugar, and lightly mashed with a potato masher. The idea is to get them to release their juices without destroying them. I managed to squish out a good deal of juice without breaking more than a few of them. The strawberries are then left to macerate for an hour on the counter.

When the strawberries are swimming in their own juices it’s time to whip the creams. Heavy cream and sour cream are beaten together with some confectioner’s sugar to the soft peak stage. Then the shortcakes are assembled.

The word cake has a specific and circumscribed definition, a biscuit casually topped with whipped cream and fruit doesn’t really fit it. If the biscuits were covered in whipped cream, decoratively layered with strawberries and allowed to set up in the fridge for a while, I’d buy the argument that these are individual serving cakes. As the recipe reads this is no more a cake than a meatloaf sandwich is a hamburger.

Still, this did taste pretty darn good, and it reeked of summer. Our strawberry shortcake growing up had a very similarly textured cake, but it was a large layered affair cut into slices. I fondly remember the adventure of trying to get the slices out in one piece, and the hilarity of mom’s face as strawberries and cream plummeted toward the dining room rug. I missed that in these neat little biscuits, but as I value the carpet in my dining room maybe it’s a compromise I can live with.

As with all deserts in the book, it was too sweet. I even cut back on the recommended amount of sugar on the strawberries because they were naturally sweet and perfectly ripe. 1/3 of a cup was way too much, I should have gone with a couple of tablespoons. The extra sugar helps to pull juice out of the fruit, but it was a bit much. I really liked the sour cream tang in with the whipped cream, which acted as a nice counterpoint to all the sugar on the berries. It worked in the same way the sweet acidity of good balsamic goes with strawberries.

As I said the other day, the biscuits were a great base for this dish. The whipped creams were a winner, and you can’t go wrong with summer fresh strawberries. The Book tried to mess with the perfection of July berries, and ended up taking away from their natural goodness. Summer just wouldn’t be summer without strawberry shortcake, and this version was certainly good enough to fulfill my seasonal need.

Categories
Fruit Desserts The Book

108. Cream Biscuits p.814

This recipe is word for word identical to the recipe for cream biscuits that appears on p.596. Whether this is a printing error, or an easter egg in The Book, it’s the easiest recipe write-up ever.

Categories
Fruit Desserts The Book

44. Apple Crisp p.812

Sorry, no recipe.

The Book and I do not get along when it comes to dessert. It’s becoming a tired refrain, but it calls for too much sugar in just about everything.

Familiarity as we all know breeds contempt, and I am certainly familiar with fruit crisps. If this had been an obscure Austrian confection I would have been fairly impressed, but once you call it an apple crisp you’ve plunged into much deeper waters. My ideal apple crisp has a (wait for it) crisp topping, which crumbles nicely. I’m not sure how a crisp is distinguished from a crumble, but I want both in the same dish. The topping should be substantial, not too buttery, and avoid being too fluffy and cookie like. The filling should have a bit of running juice at room temperature, and distinct apple pieces which offer a bit of resistance when you bite into them. A nice dose of citrus punches up the flavours of the apples, and cinnamon is a must-have, tastes-like-home addition.

This recipe measured up reasonably well to those standards. The topping was nicely crisp, but failed the crumbly test. It erred too far on the side of cookieness. However the pecans added a nice crunch, and provided a bit of crumble. The topping could have stood to have more nuts in it actually. The dish let me down on the filling though. It called for three types of apples, Macouns, Fujis, and Jonagolds. The texture was nice, with some toothsome chunks and plenty of juice, but the flavour was way off. All of the apples they call for a fairly sweet, plus they added a good deal of sugar, taking it to candyland. The lemon juice was limited to two tablespoons, with all the sugar in there the lemon could have been doubled easily.

This dish had some things going for it, and the end result tasted pretty good. The topping could have been part of an excellent dish, unfortunately the filling was underwhelming. Fruit crisps are a simple, ubiquitous summer / fall dish, and everyone will have their own way of doing it, and their own standards by which to judge it. This dish may very well be someone’s favorite apple crisp in the whole wide world, it’s just not mine.

Categories
Fruit Desserts The Book

20. Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble p. 812

Sorry no recipe for this one

This was a very straightforward no surprises crumble. Incredibly easy to put together, and bursting with summer flavours. I grew up on this stuff. Mom was guaranteed to make a least a couple of these during the height of strawberry season, and we were usually good for one more in the fall with the strawberries she’d frozen.

I love the sweet-sour interplay of the strawberries and rhubarb. The balance between sweet and tart is the key to this dish. You absolutely have to add sugar or the rhubarb will make the whole thing sour, but too much and the magic is gone. Here I think they overdid it a bit on the sugar. They call for 1 – 1 1/4 cups of sugar for 2 lbs of strawberries and 1 1/2 lbs of rhubarb. I went for a cup of sugar as my berries were quite sweet, and the final dish was still more sugary than I would have preferred. I would definitely cut the sugar a bit and up the lemon juice. I’ve said it before, but the people at Gourmet really do like their desserts sweeter than I do.

I really enjoyed the simple rolled oats topping (just oats, flour, brown sugar, salt, and butter). It didn’t come out as a very crumbly crumble, more of a big cookie on top of the fruit filling, but it was wonderfully moist and the oats gave it a nice texture to contrast with the fruit.

This was a delicious crumble, but almost all strawberry-rhubarb crumbles are delicious crumbles. This was a pretty standard recipe that didn’t bring anything new to the table, or really decipher the formula which turns simple into deceptively simple. Excellent result, but an average recipe.

Categories
Fruit Desserts The Book

11. Cherry Clafouti p. 817

This was a very straightforward dish, an eggy batter poured over cherries and baked until puffed and golden. It was very easy to put together, the whole batter is made in the blender, and the addition of almond and vanilla extracts as well as kirsh gave it some complexity of flavour. I’m always happy to see kirsh turn up on an ingredient list, because other than fondue au fromage, I’m not quite sure what to do with it.

The recipe recommends pitting the cherries, but gives the option to leave them whole. I left them au naturel and warned my guests. We didn’t have any incidents at dinner, however the next day I bit down on a cherry stone and may have loosened a tooth. The final dish was quite sweet, but I believe this was my fault. In rereading the recipe I notice that it called for sour cherries, and I’m fairly sure I used Bings from the grocery store. The sour cherries would have been welcome here, or if using sweet, cut the sugar.

This dish is located in the Fruit Desserts chapter of the book, but I think it would be more at home in with the Breakfast and Brunch section. It was billed as being “halfway between custard and cake”, turns out this is the state known as pancake. I was hoping it would be less sweet and more boozy, but as I mentioned that was probably my fault.