In my defense, I resisted this crumble for possibly even a single hour before going to the kitchen to assemble the ingredients. A whole hour, an hour in which we could have had a buttery, spiced gingersnap and brown sugar crumbled lid atop a glurp-ing puddle of soft, sweet pears and slumped, tart cranberries, bubbling through cracks in the rubbled surface. An hour in which I instead thought there were better things to do, like pretending to clean the kitchen while staring into space and imagining how good the crumble could be. They give out medals for this kind of valor, right?
My husband and I, well, were exactly as exciting as you might imagine because we talk about pears a lot. Ill take the blame, Im sure I usually start the conversation, which goes roughly like, Pears? Really? You just dont like pears? And hell say Theyre just so one note. Theyre sweet and boring, usually while slicing another of his beloved Granny Smith apples into perfect quarters. (Hes such a tidy eater people, I comparatively eat with the grace of a Hoover). And the thing is, I agree with him 100 percent, but I see these things as characteristics, not flaws. However, in baking, I agree that pears could use a little help. They like acid and they like berries; brighter fall spices like ginger play off them well and youll ! be surpr ised what a pinch of white pepper can do to wake them up.
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