And besides, it wasn't my fault that Forelle pears were on sale at my produce market for 59 cents a pound.
Sophie thinks they look like doll pears, but I wouldn't let the American Girl person who lives in our house have any. I'm tired of her taking things in Sophie's room and leaving them there to rot.
I love a good recipe, but I also love the creative shot of flying by the seat of my pants and making it up as I go. I started here with a bottle of Riesling and added another half a bottle of water, about a cup and a half of sugar, a cinnamon stick, a few cardamon pods, some whole allspice, and some Meyer lemon peel.
I poached the pears (peeled—nothing more relaxing that peeling, right?), removed them to canning jars, reduced the liquid a little more, and added it to the jars to cover the pears. Twenty minutes in a hot water bath left my kitchen all warm and steamy and the pears preserved for the next year.
These will be good over vanilla ice cream or on their own. And I love feeling like a squirrel in winter with all sorts of canned goods in my larder. Not that they ever last that long.
But before you judge me a total nut, may I just point out that our ski bags are packed and sitting by the door? What? You think that the fact they are packed all through ski season means this doesn't count? Fine. Did I mention that we are just not done enjoying our Christmas tree?? It's really pretty.