I was doing the shopping last week, and bought the wrong sort of pears (my instructions were incomplete, specifying only the correct price, not colour or texture (I don’t tend to eat fresh pears)). The obvious thing to do with a kilo of pears that won’t get eaten as-is is to stew them and put them in some sort of baked good…
My mum has this recipe called ‘Heavenly Apple Pie’. It is well named, and in combination with her spicy apple crumble, has ruined any other apple pie for me. These two recipes were the first candidates for my pears. I wanted to share the results with my friends, so I decided to go with the non-crumble recipe, which is more suitable for eating with one’s hands. So I set the pears to stewing – after due consultation with Chef Google – and looked down the list of ingredients for the cake. This was where I realised that I had to either wait till the pears were done, or go out shopping with the stove on. Bugger.
So a couple of hours and one load of laundry later, I headed off to buy eggs, and also more clothes-pegs. I got home and started measuring stuff out, and soon realised that I had no white sugar. Bugger. Chef Google reassured me that substituting with brown sugar would be fine, and I carried on… In my flusterment about the brown sugar, I didn’t notice that the recipes measurements were in mils, not grams, until it was too late to just pour the sugar back in the jar. Bugger. So I did some maths, multiplied the rest of the ingredients by 1.8, added another egg, and guesstimated the milk. This is about where I decided to do muffins and a cake, as I now had about 1.8 times as much batter as usual.
The bit that makes Heavenly Apple Pie so very good is a sugar syrup/caramel poured over the top, sweet and sticky and yum. I was short of milk, so I decided to mix that up too, by boiling down the syrup from stewing the pears. So I chucked in some more brown sugar, pulled a bar stool up to the oven, and fetched my book. It would need to boil down quite a bit further than the usual mixture. When the muffins and the cake were done, and the syrup considered sufficiently boiled, I carefully poured it (through a strainer) over each muffin, and then the cake.
A little while later I took my Test Muffin off to the living room for eating. It was very cinnamony, but tasty and good. I had meant to clean up the kitchen a bit before Steve got home, but he arrived just as I finished my muffin. Luckily the Second Test Muffin distracted him from the mess.
And that is the Story of my Pear Cake.