Tag Archives: dessert

Divine Red Wine Poached Pears

Doesn’t the phrase ‘poached pears’ sound so elegant? To me, it sounds like a dessert that might be served at a fancy party . . . in England. Definitely in England. There would be a table with cut crystal on it, freshly polished sterling silver flatware, wallpaper covered in roses on the wall, and a gracefully aging hostess with a ramrod straight back, who would say “Would you care for a poached pear, my dear?”

“Why yes, I believe I do,” I would assure her, tucking a curl behind one of my ears. Yes, in this vision my hair is a shining waterfall of curls, pinned up in loose poofs, with clusters of perfect corkscrews around my ears and above my alabaster brow.

But back to reality (with my brown hair which won’t hold a curl to save its life and my non-alabaster, quite freckled brow). I do have good news for all of us: besides being delicious, these pears (recipe adapted from this blogger) are a cinch to make. You toss them into a pot with a couple ingredients and they just kind of hang out there for a little over half an hour. After that, slap ’em in the fridge and you can feast off of them all week long. At least that’s what I did.

This is my idea of a perfect summer dessert–flavorful while still light, cool and satisfying on a hot evening, sweet but not cloyingly so, and they’re great either by themselves or with ice cream.

Ingredients

(Serves 6)

6 pears
1 cup red wine
1 cup water
1/2 cup + 2 TBS sugar
1 cinnamon stick OR 1 tsp ground cinnamon
2 cloves
Zest and juice of 1 orange

Peel the pears, leaving the stems intact.

In a large pot, combine the red wine . . .

. . . water . . .

. . . sugar . . .

. . . orange zest (man-hand + microplane = I love my life) . . .

. . . orange juice . . .

. . . cloves and cinnamon.

In other words, all the ingredients except for the pears.

Behold our poaching liquid! Heat the pot over medium, stirring occasionally until the sugar dissolves. Don’t sweat it if some globs of orange flesh got in there, too. Whatever, say I. It’s bound to add nutritional value, right? Right. That’s what my Mom used to say about bugs. “Oh, you ate a bug? More protein for you.”

Place the pears upright into the pot, fitting them together snugly.

Bring the poaching liquid to a boil . . .

. . . then cover the pot, turn down the heat to low, and cook for 35-40 minutes.

From time to time, lift the lid and spoon the liquid over the pears.

When the lid finally comes off, you will see a thing of beauty–the red wine has soaked into the pears, making them a lovely shade of mauve.

Test the pears for doneness by turning one over and inserting a sharp knife into its–hrngh hrngh–rounded bottom.

If the knife slides in easily with just a little resistance, the pears are done.

Discard the cloves and cinnamon stick, and let the pears and syrup chill in the refrigerator overnight.

Serve the pears cut or whole, alone or with ice cream, with the syrup drizzled on top.

A little French Vanilla is a great accompaniment.

And I say ‘syrup,’ however the liquid is rather thin, as you can see here.

But perfectly flavored! If you’re looking for a thick syrup though, you can continue to reduce the liquid once the pears are cooked. I leave it in your capable hands.

Even though these pictures show the pears whole, I found them much easier and more pleasurable to eat when cut. I made slices along the core and fanned the pieces out on a plate. It was beautiful, and the arrangement looked like a flower–but my camera was far, far away . . . in the other room.

Anyway, toss some pears in a pot and serve these at your next dinner party! Or furtively hide them in the back of the fridge in a place that only you know about and eat them for your midnight snack. Either way, these will hit the spot!

Click here for printer-friendly version: Divine Red Wine Poached Pears

German Apple Pancake

Also called a Dutch baby, this recipe hails from my new favorite source: an America’s Test Kitchen cookbook. How I love those people–their scientific dedication to perfecting recipes, their tireless explanations of why some things work and others don’t, the variety of recipes and cuisines they play with.

As a kid, Friday nights were movie nights. We would spread out a large tablecloth on the rug and set out an assortment of food–sometimes Mom’s homemade pizza, but very frequently a meal called “Popcorn, Cheese & Apples.” It’s pretty self explanatory. Fresh, stovetop popcorn, slices of whatever cheese was on hand, and sliced apples. I recently reproduced this meal for a movie night in our little apartment, except that instead of serving sliced apples I served this apple pancake.

It was delightful! A tad tricky, but hopefully by pointing out my errors I will help you avoid them. Let’s hit it!

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

3/4 cup half and half
2 large eggs
1 TBS sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup flour
1 TBS butter
3 medium Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, and cut into 1/4 inch slices
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 TBS powdered sugar, for serving

Preheat the oven to 500 F with the rack in the middle.

Now we’re going to deal with those apples.

These 3 look like troublemakers to me. Let’s call them Stan, Cran, and Harriet.

They just need a firm hand.

Peel them, core them, cut them in slices, and tell them to drop and give you ten.

Here are the ingredients for the batter, all assembled and looking quite demure:

Into a blender or food processor, add the eggs, sugar, salt . . .

. . . the half and half and the vanilla.

Blend for about 15 seconds, until combined.

Forgive the hideous pictures–I’ve been cursed with a non-photogenic blender. And an inconsistent white balance, which makes my white wall look strangely mauve. Or would you call that more of a lavender tone?

Add the flour . . .

. . . and blend again until mixed and lump-free (about 30 more seconds).

Melt the butter in a 10 inch ovenproof nonstick skillet over medium high heat. Add the apples and brown sugar.

Cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally . . .

. . . then cook for 5 further minutes stirring constantly. You don’t want that sugar to burn!

The apples should now be a lovely golden color.

Turn off the heat and pour the batter into the skillet, starting at the edges . . .

. . . going around in a circle (still around the edges) . . .

. . . and ending in the middle.

Immediately put the skillet in the oven and lower the heat to 425 F.

Man, I try to keep those knobs on the stove clean, but the grease . . . the grease. It’s a fighter. A serious contender for the victory.

Bake 15-17 minutes, until golden and puffed.

By all means do not exceed 17 minutes. You’ll see why soon enough.

Remove the skillet from the oven and, using a spatula that’s heat proof, loosen the edges of the pancake.

Invert the pancake onto a platter by turning the skillet upside down, and dust with confectioner’s sugar. The ‘puff’ only lasts a few minutes, so serve immediately!

I’m not guaranteeing that it won’t fall apart (as you can see it did in the above picture) . . . but it’s so tasty no one will care.

Okay, I hope you’re steeling yourself. Because I have a confession to make: the first time I made this, I thought I  knew better than (gulp) America’s Test Kitchen. The pancake looked very cream-colored on top after the full 17 minutes, so I left it in 4-5 minutes longer.

Whoops.

I claim full responsibility.

America’s Test Kitchen shares 0% of the fault for this blackened disgrace.

Believe it or not, it still tasted amazing. I wouldn’t lie to you. I ate about 75% of it entirely by myself.

Don’t hate on it ’cause it’s not pretty.

I did attempt to redeem myself by making it a second time. I removed it right at 17 minutes, and it was perfect.

However, still not very photogenic.

Just close your eyes, think moist apple pie/cake thingy, and all will be well.

Click here for printer-friendly version: German Apple Pancake