Recently, I made a pear tart, which I hadn’t made in quite a while. Pears are one of my favorite fruits, and of course, being the tart lover I am, pear tarts are one of my favorite desserts. Somehow, the flavor of almonds goes really well with pears. That nice, homey flavor of pears in an almond-flavored custard filling is just so wonderful.
But how on earth did someone think of putting pears into a tart? Well, I can kind of imagine…
Patrick stood in line at the market, waiting to pay for his produce. In post-war England, with much of the city still recovering from the uncertainty and gloom of the recent times of battle, he found that his weekly shopping trip was one of the simple pleasures he still had in his life.
Unfortunately, with the winter fast approaching, the fruit selection was rather disappointing. Apples and pears were just about the only decent fruits at his local market, and Patrick was quickly getting tired of the myriad apple desserts he had been making lately. Apple pie, apple tarte tatin, apple crumble, apple cake, even apple butter. When would the avalanche of apples end? Well, hopefully with this peck of pears.
As he exited the market after having paid for his pears, along came Polly in a perfectly pink petticoat. She almost collided with him in her little bike. “Oh I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, when she realized it was her old friend Patrick.
“Oh hullo,” said Patrick, while he thought, not another near-accident with Polly. They had known each other for years, back when they worked in the same factory in London. He had gone on to become a writer; she, a schoolteacher. Patrick never thought of Polly as being too attractive, with her somewhat large hips and somewhat small bosom. But today, she had an ineffable sparkle about her. The twinkle in her eyes was stirring his loins in some strange way.
“I came and knocked you up earlier, but you weren’t in your flat,” Polly chirped. “I see you’ve got some delicious-looking pears there!”
“Why yes, I was just pondering what to make with these things…” he muttered. “Say, would you fancy a spot of tea at my place?”
“Oh I would love to! I’m so exhausted from humping myself all over town on my bicycle.”
Polly followed Patrick back to his immaculately furnished flat. As she sat on his plush Victorian sofa, Patrick went to fix some tea. Earl grey, hot, of course. He went to the living room to chat with Polly.
But a curious thing happened. They suddenly started making out, passionately. They had never kissed before, much less shoved their tongues into each other’s mouths. But it was happening now. Soon, her pink petticoat was peeling off of her body, as were his trousers. On the Victorian couch! He couldn’t get it dirty. They hastily made their way to his bedroom.
Patrick flung Polly onto his bed, flinging himself on top of her soon after. As their naked bodies intertwined like strands of hair in a voluptuous woman’s dark braid, he found his thoughts drifting back to the pears. Why the pears? He just couldn’t get pears out of his head.
Soon, she had his manhood in her mouth, and he his tongue in her box. Like the square root of 4,761, their backs curled just enough to get their mouths into each other’s crotches. They both had an unbearable urge to push their nether regions together. And that they did.
As he penetrated her like an overeager glutton pushing his finger into a bag of potato chips, he could hear the tea kettle roaring loudly. In his haste to shag her, he had forgotten about the tea. But he couldn’t bother with that now. He was on a one-way express train to the land of orgasm, and there was no putting on the brakes now. As the tension in their groins mounted, so did the tea kettle’s cries. Right when they both achieved climax and moaned loudly like the boards of an old house during a strong windstorm, the tea kettle started whistling, as if it had been waiting for them to both achieve their bliss.
They got up from the bed, exhausted from their romp in the hay. Patrick rushed over to the stove to turn it off. As he turned around and looked at Polly’s naked figure, he couldn’t help but see a pear. Pears, again? Why was he so consumed with them? Her round buttocks, her small bosom… she was basically a human pear. She walked over to where he was in the kitchen and reached up to grab some mugs from the cupboard. Suddenly, a metal object came sliding out, crashing onto the counter. It was a tart pan that he had bought long ago when he was still a struggling writer.
He knew what he could make with the pears now. A pear tart! Right in that very tart pan. He could just imagine it in his head. Pears and almonds went together like sausage and peppers; he could see a spiral of pear slices in a tart, embedded in custardy bed of almond and eggs. He couldn’t get the tea prepared fast enough. All he could think about was making that tart. After kicking Polly out, of course.
The fifteen minutes it took for Polly to finish her tea were interminable. The tart and the sex were the only things on his mind, while boring stories about her students were the only things that came out of her mouth. But eventually, and mercifully, Polly’s stories came to an end, and she let herself out. Now Patrick could concentrate on his tart.
He mixed together some butter, sugar, eggs, and ground almonds to make a nice batter for the pears to rest in. Some flour thickened it up a bit. Then came the pears. He sliced them very thinly, and arranged them in the almond mixture, which he had put into a tart crust. After sitting in the oven for half an hour, the batter had risen nicely, and the pears had sunk into the almond-flavored filling. This was what he imagined heaven would be like, if it existed. A warm pear tart. And some sex.
Sadly, my tart was made all by my lonesome, but it was delicious nonetheless. I mostly followed the recipe here, with the usual tart crust I use.
Pear Tart
For the crust:
1 cup flour
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup butter
For the filling:
3 large pears, sliced into 1/8-inch slices
6 tablespoons butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs
2/3 cup almond meal
2 tablespoons flour
1 tablespoon brandy
1 tablespoon pear schnapps
2 tablespoons raw sugar
- Mix the flour, brown sugar, and butter together in a bowl, and then press into a 9-inch tart pan.
- Bake for about 5 minutes in a 400F oven until partially baked.
- Beat the butter and sugar together until creamy.
- Add the eggs, one at a time, and mix until combined.
- Add the almond meal and flour, and mix until combined.
- Finally, add the brandy and pear schnapps and stir.
- Pour the batter into the partially-baked tart crust.
- Arrange the pear slices on the batter, and press them in slightly.
- Sprinkle the pear slices with the raw sugar.
- Bake at 350F for 30 minutes.
The crust, before baking.
Partially baked after 5 minutes.
The batter. The original recipe had pear brandy, but since I only had regular brandy, I used that and some pear schnapps for pear flavor.
The filling goes into the partially-baked shell.
Then the pear slices go into the batter. I am not particularly adept at making pretty arrangements, as you can see.
I then sprinkled some raw sugar on top.
After 30 minutes, the pear slices have sunk into the batter, and it’s nicely browned.
My pears were pretty small, so I think I didn’t end up with enough pears on there. Next time, more pears. Or larger ones. But otherwise, I liked it. Though I love pears, so I’m biased.