Thirty-three years ago, perhaps around Thanksgiving, I made my first pear pie. At the time, I was working for a very small company in a very small office, mostly with a small handful of female colleagues. The pie was a big hit…so much so that, sometime later, one of my associates said, “Amy, I think it’s time for another pear!”

I may sound like a broken record but, I repeat, a baker I am not. And again, I know what I like and what I don’t like, realizing from that understanding alone that many a successful creation have been born.

To wit, I’ve never had an appreciation for the American staple: good old-fashioned apple pie. For many, that statement may be sacrilege. However, had this not been the case, my pear pie may never have been conceived.

In those early days of my culinary awakening, I learned a LOT. Having committed to the pie offering for my office, I began my due diligence from the crust up. The process sent me right down memory lane to some of my familial roots…and the memory of my maternal grandmother.

Nana came to live with us when I was very, very young. She was an avid baker who had many recipes, but baked almost exclusively for holiday family gatherings. While her baked goods seemed to draw high accolades across the board, and she also was known for her artistically created platters displaying a variety of sweets, I distinctly remember that her wares were not particularly sweet. Crusts were flaky, fillings were fruity, cakes were moist, frostings were smooth and creamy, and cookies were assorted and abundant…but where the heck was the sugar?!? I so wanted to enjoy my grandmother’s baking but, as everyone around me was ooh-ing and ahh-ing with every bite, I couldn’t help but feel something was missing…the SUGAR!!

It wasn’t until I delved into this pear pie process for which I would create my first pie crust (long after my grandmother had passed) that the answer came to me: it was the remnants of war-time rationing during my grandmother’s lifetime that were forever baked into (or out of) her desserts, which explained the limited amounts of sugar in all of her baked goods.

That insight has served me well as I’ve ventured into some old-fashioned favorites, particularly pie crust. While making some sweet modifications that aren’t terribly drastic to a more traditional crust, I also learned about the virtues of using shortening and its ratios with butter; dough handling techniques that not only enhance the shaping process, but deter gluten development that will impede the crust’s flakiness, as well as induce shrinkage; and the necessity of keeping the dough chilled as much as possible, right up to baking. For me, the most important undertaking was attempting to achieve a sweetly satisfying, delicately flaky, well-balanced end result, instead of something that presented as either a full-on diabetic coma or an incongruous offset between a flat, humdrum crust and a deliciously piquant filling. These techniques, nuances, and even a little science (ew, science) just don’t show up in most heirloom recipes.

Pears versus apples…

There are more than 7,500 varieties of apples grown around the world, approximately 2,500 of which are available in the US, most with fairly distinct attributes. In stark contrast, there are over 3,000 pear varieties grown worldwide, but only 10 (yes, ten) of those varieties are grown in the US.

When I made my first pear pie in the early ’90s in Atlanta, I serendipitously used red Comice pears because I enjoyed eating them as a snack, and they were readily available at my neighborhood grocery store. Completely unbeknownst to me at the time, Comice pears are touted as the “Pear Lovers Pear” (also the “Christmas Pear”) for their exceptional sweetness, juiciness, and creamy, less grainy texture than their counterparts. But to me, it’s pears’ inherently deep, soulful flavor that I’ve just never experienced in any variety of apple…ergo, pear pie.

After I’d figured out the crust equation, I came up with a fairly simple pear filling recipe that assured that the fruit’s extraordinary sweetness and distinctive flavor wouldn’t be overshadowed by even the most basic of pie spices. And, for the record, there was no upper crust on those first forays. The finished product turned out to be a unique and unprecedented showstopper worthy of ravaging, raves, reverie, and repetition, albeit not for another 33 years. Whatev.

So, with out of town company expected recently, I decided to recreate my pear pie that I hadn’t made since those early days. I quickly realized I’d never written the recipe for the very few I’d created way back when, and had to start from scratch and vague memory. Additionally, for this pie, not only did I want to add an upper crust, but I had the Jones to produce a lattice upper crust that was atypically crossed on the diagonal, as opposed to the more traditional horizontal/vertical finish. Another first for me, so more research. If that weren’t enough, there was also the added challenge presented by the lack of availability of Comice pears in my area, so the fruit filling texture was not ideal. More R&D necessary for future varietal alternatives in consideration of regional offerings.

Without the benefit of any written record of the bottom crust I’d first made that I’d deemed so successful, directly proportionate to the amount I learned during this well-balanced crust making endeavor was the amount of swearing with my first attempt at a lattice crust with all of the dough variables involved. It’s not rocket science, but there’s definitely a lattice learning curve, and this was clearly not my culinary forte. I was so frustrated with the whole thing by the time I was ready to throw the pie into the oven that I failed to exercise the proper care in affixing the pie shield around the rim, and therein flattened the fanciful fluted edges that I’d so painstakingly pinched with my twitching fingers.

Here’s the good news…out of the oven, warmed prior to serving, and topped with the fresh sweetened whipped cream I’d made, lightly flavored with caramel and pecan (remember, balance), while the pie looked to me like a D+ effort from Home Ec 101, our guests loved it. I humbly thanked them and expressed extra gratitude for their being on the ground floor of my R&D efforts.

Undeterred, I will make copious recipe edits, lest my readers be the least deterred, and remember as much of this experience as I can when I make my pear pie again…in another 33 years.

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Posts tagged with pearpie

Pear Pie…a New American Staple?