I'm very particular about pears, they have to be just ripe. More often than not, bought from the shops they're rock hard. Although some people like them like this, with their crisp, granular texture like a tear-shaped apple; I prefer them when they're melting soft and so juicy that they weep their honeyed juice at the slightest bruise. However, there is a fine line between perfectly ripe and over, at which point they start to become ever so slightly fermented and have a slightly alcoholic whiff (which could be a good or bad thing) which could be as short as just a day or two.
Pears come in an array of shapes and varieties: from the tall and slender Conference to the more bulbous, round Comice but they all have the characteristic sweetly floral and juicy flesh, though some have a noticeably more grainy texture. Here, I've used the rocha variety, though I admit that they were chosen more for the merits of their small round size rather than anything else.
If I'm prepared, I'll leave them out to ripen in a fruit bowl on a sunny window sill for a few days until they're ripened to my liking (putting them in a bag with bananas apparently also speeds this up). If I'm not prepared though (or too impatient to wait) baking or poaching them brings out their juicy sweetness too. Just sprinkle halved pears with a little brown sugar or honey and bake in a moderate oven or poach in a light syrup until soft and tender. I poached the pears in the muffin recipe for this reason, but if your pears are softer then simply omit this step.
I first had pears tinned with (instant) chocolate custard as a treat for dessert as a child, and although I like to think I've grown up a bit now (though I'm still partial to custard powder on occasion) the combination of rich, slightly bitter chocolate and sweet, buttery pear still holds. These muffins carry on the pairing of chocolate and pear, with the addition of warming ginger and topped with a spicy streusel and are wonderful, warm for breakfast.
I could never
go on a diet. It’s not that I’m unhealthy: there’s nothing more that I like
than some freshly steamed asparagus
(albeit with a knob of butter) but it’s just the idea of restraining myself at a meal or having to say no to a
slice of cake that doesn’t appeal. Anyway, not all desserts are made the same: a slice of chocolate fudge cake is never going to be as healthy as a granita. I like to think I go somewhere in between: a small portion of this squash
and apple crumble smothered in custard with a dollop of low fat crème fraiche.
Although it’s
the mid-winter we still have some home grown squashes left. At first I thought
we’d used them all up so when I found another box, they were too good to
resist. They’re easy to grow too and by the end of August their sprawling vines
have taken over their patch of the garden (and usually all the other veg).
Then, when kept somewhere with a relatively cool and constant temperature – we keep
ours in a box on the garage floor, they last for the rest of the winter. Use
any type of squash (or even a small pumpkin) that takes your fancy: butternut,
acorn or summer; to be honest once chopped and cooked they’re pretty
indistinguishable from each other.
Of course
squashes are great roasted or baked and in velvety soups but they can also be
used in sweet things. Obviously they could be used just as a substitute for pumpkin
puree in pumpkin pie but the sweet flavors that make them so good roasted, also
make them great in a host of baked goods: muffins, in a tea bread or in a
crumble, as here. When used in baked goods, it also gives them moisture and so
you can cut down on the butter or oil in the recipe (although for reasons
mentioned above that doesn’t worry me too much), as well as giving them a sweet
nutty flavor and a sunny hue.