On poached pears and a trifle
The other day a smell permeated the house that was as comforting as slippers – the ones that are covered with wool then open up to a textured faux fur that tries to replicate the impossibly soft covering of a baby lamb. It was as fragrant as Lillies and so completely intoxicating I had a hard time concentrating on the task at hand.
I was poaching pears.

My nose was never more than six inches from the pot as I let the floral steam wash over my face like the most exhilarating spa treatment. My mind raced with ideas on how to use these pears daily during this chilled season where their presence is simply perfect.
As I dreamed I dipped a little glass in to steal some of the poaching liquid and determined that it makes a rather delightful mulled wine.
On this occasion the pears found themselves covered in a white blanket of white chocolate mascarpone mousse. They became close neighbors with lady fingers that also became intoxicated with a reduced version of the poaching liquid. Everyone was happily capped with whipped cream and white chocolate curls.
The next day my pears became fast friends with a ginger and cardamom panna cotta.
Don’t you think for one minute that these pears need some fancy accompaniment to make them special enough for the Holidays. Oh no. They are, on their own, simply perfect. Serve with creme fraiche or whipped cream – oh and can you imagine what a creamy caramel would do for these spicy pears. Oh goodness.