I mentioned in my first post that we had a really good year of pears. There were so many on our tree at one point that the thing looked like a freakin' weeping willow, it was so weighed down with fruit. We had to duck even lower than usual to get to the chicken coop.
At one point around late-august, the tree started dropping 'em all. I really didn't think I was going to do much with them because the tree never did so well, and the fruit was just so damn ugly. And, just like in the past, the guys were just as ugly as ever. BUT, when you peel them and cut them open, they're beautiful. Super white, juicy, and sweet. Once I realized how many of these little sugar treasures I had, we busted out the ladder and just started collecting them. 15 minutes and a fat lip later (Shawn accidentally dropped one right on my face,) we had about 15 pounds of pears. Whoa.
So went to canning. We got 5 pints plus several small jars nicely set. Half of them went straight to friends, family and helpers. (As you can see, Nikolai likes to help me out around the house.)
A week later, I had another 10 pounds of pears. I didn't feel like canning anymore, so I took it upon myself to find as many pear recipes as I could. This resulted in pear gorgonzola penne, pear and butternut squash soup, carmelized pear appetizers, and a pie. Nevertheless, we are pear-ed out.
But guess what? I still have pears in my 'fridge! So tonight, I decided to make pear applesauce cake. (Since my refrigerator also houses some uneaten applesauce.) Even now, with the cake in the oven, I am still being haunted by 7 small, semi-shrively PEARS. I give up. They win. But I suppose there are worse battles to lose.