Here is recipe that uses up a glut of hard ‘windfall’ pears,
should you have a tree, or know of one nearby. When I first read through this
recipe – quite a few years ago now – I made a note to go to Chorlton Meadows, a
lovely green area in Manchester that has a relatively unsullied Mersey River
snaking through it. When I first started the blog, I had moved from Chorlton
and had got to know it quite well, and I knew there was an area called Hardy’s
Farm in the meadows, and part of the farm had been orchard full of apple and
pear trees as well as gooseberry bushes.
Every year, in late summer, I made sure I visited the site
of the farm and EVERY YEAR there were no tasty pears on the pear trees; they
were either totally non-existent or shrivelled brown mush. To this day, I have
never seen the pears there come to, as it were, fruition.
Not to be beaten, I made sure I planted a nice pear tree on
my little allotment. The first year saw dozens of lovely white flowers, some of
which I removed as I didn’t want to put the small tree under too much strain when
it came to fruit production. It wasn’t too long before the flower petals were
shed, and little pears started to grow. Eventually they reached a good size and
had blushed with a delicious-looking pink colour, so I reckoned they would
start falling soon. The next time I turned up to the allotment my beautiful
pears had been STOLEN. I was livid.
After that the pear tree never flowered again.
These are the lengths I go to, dear readers, to follow the
recipes as closely as possible; I didn’t want to simply buy some unripe pears from a shop. Anyway, I gave up and bought
some.
I have no idea who Granny Milton is, but I assume she had an
amazing pear tree in her garden. Well good for her.
First of all prepare your pears – be they windfall or otherwise – by peeling, coring and quartering them. You need 6 pounds in all for Granny Milton’s recipe, but it can easily be adjusted if you have a different amount.
Next zest three lemons
and mix the zest with the juice of the lemons and weigh out 4 ½ pounds of granulated sugar.
Find a large bowl and layer up the pears, zest and juice, and sugar. Cover with cling film and leave overnight.
Next day, put the pears and extracted juices in a heavy pan
along with a 4 1/2-inch stick of
cinnamon and 8 cloves. Put on
the lid and bake slowly in an oven preheated to 140°C for 6 hours.
When the time is up, take the pears out of the oven and
allow to cool down completely before stirring in 6 tablespoons of brandy. Remove the whole spices and
spoon the pears with the juices into sterilised jars and seal. I found that a
lot of the sugar didn’t dissolve into the pear syrup, forming a half-inch thick
layer of sugar that could peeled from the base of the pan!
Leave the pears to mature in their jars in a dark cupboard
or pantry for three months before eating them.
#430 Granny Milton’s
Pears in Brandy. Jane doesn’t suggest what to serve these pears with. I
have so far eaten them with sharp cheeses or Greek yoghurt. The pear flavour is
very much preserved, and the spices really come through, giving good depth of
flavour. They turned a beautiful deep translucent orange-brown colour. However,
they were extremely sweet, so I’m quite glad that a lot of the sugar didn’t
dissolve, I would suggest eating them with tart accompaniments. Not sure they
were worth the wait! 5.5/10
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