When my brother and I were little kids, my mom would give us sliced fruit with our lunch. My brother always asked for a pear. I always asked for an apple, or grapes, or apricots, or a peach– or really, anything but a pear. I hated the things, and would watch, utterly bemused, as a “good” pear would move my brother to alternately wave his arms in the air and pound on the kitchen table in joy. Why the emotional outpouring over something that tastes like a mealy apple?

And while I’ve gotten over my other childhood dislikes–mushrooms, brussels sprouts, fennel seeds, and, inexplicably, the whole store of Trader Joe’s (I know, I’m embarrassed by me, too)–I have to say: I still don’t like pears.

So I was thrown in on the deep end two weeks ago when my housemate, who coaches sports at a local school, came home with a massive tray of them, leftover from soccer practice. “What can we do with all of these?” she asked.

The way to get me suddenly interested in a fruit about which I have long felt ambivalent? Turn it into a cooking challenge. I was off to the races, cogs turning about how I might make these guys palatable. My mind turned to a cherry and pistachio tart I enjoyed this summer at one of my favorite brunch spots in Paris. Maybe a pear and pistachio tart would work? No–I worried the pistachio would overpower the delicate pear flavor. But how about pear and almond?

 
Sure enough, a quick search of French recipe sites turned up this gem. I swapped out the recommended puff pastry crust for a nuttier, crumblier one modified from my fig, pistachio, and mascarpone tart. But everything else remained the same.

And oh my, did it turn out beautifully. As with so many French home recipes, the ingredients are very simple. And as with so many French baked goods, there is a lot of butter. But while it cooks, it fills your kitchen with the smell of warm butter and toasting almonds, and when you dig in, the flavor is so wonderfully delicate. I enjoyed this as a dessert after dinner, but I also served it to a friend who swung by for tea on the weekend.

So what does it take to get me into pears? Make them into a buttery, nutty tart, perfect for fall. Mom should have known.

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Pear and Almond Tart

Makes one approximately 10″ tart
Crust adapted from this tart, filling slightly adapted from Le Journal des Femmes

Ingredients

Crust
2 cups less 2 tablespoons flour
heaping 1/2 cup raw almonds
1/4 cup sugar
7 tablespoons butter
1 egg yolk
3-4 tablespoons cold water
Filling
7 tablespoons (100g) butter, melted
2/3 cup (150g) granulated sugar
2 eggs
1.5-2 teaspoons bourbon (optional, but it was that kind of day)
1/4 cup (30g) flour
scant 1 cup (90g) almond flour
2-3 pears (preferably a softer variety, such as Bartlett or Comice)

Instructions

In a food processor, combine the flour, almonds, and sugar and process until the almonds are finely ground. Add the cold butter into the flour mixture and process until everything breaks down to the size of small peas. Add the egg yolk and gradually add the water just until a dough begins to form when you press it between two fingers. Do not over mix.