Invisible Pear Cake

Michigan grown Bartlett pears and cardamom steeped crème anglaise

My near ten years in Michigan have not worn on my enchantment with my now tenth changing of leaves. Southern Arizona, where I’m from, offers a more subtle change of season—the cacti are always green, the palo verdes turn yellow in the spring, and the fluorescent bougainvillea bloom year round. I know, I’m painting a picturesque scene for anyone who hasn’t grown weary of the unforgiving desert, but feeling and witnessing the changing of the season is such an important, cyclical experience as we prepare to button up and hibernate for the winter.

AZ in the December 2017. Photo by Bart Thomas.

Last week, I had the good fortune of landing a gig up in Leelanau Peninsula, which for my non-Michiganders, picture Michigan as the back of your left hand—this area is the pinky nail. The drive up from Detroit alone was mesmerizing as the winding roads led me through the epic changing of color. I struggled to keep my eyes on the road as the scarlet red and flaming oranges screamed for my attention along with the numerous picturesque farm stands with hand-painted signs advertising their homemade pies and never-ending varieties of apples.

Up north Michigan type shit

My drive up was about efficiency, though, so the farm stands would have to wait. I was hired to take some photos for a couple of my friends, Sarah & Cameron, who are opening up a restaurant in Traverse City next year and wanted some documentation of the makings of their to-be house wine. We met up at Folklor in Charlevoix where owners Iza and Derrick were helping to make their ambitious idea into a reality.

Derrick in one of Folklor’s vineyards

I arrived at Folklor around 2pm, quickly greeted by Derrick, who was lighting a campfire in the field. Sarah, Cameron and Iza were on their way with a truck load of Pinot Blanc they’d been harvesting all morning. As I waited, Derrick offered me a golden ginger apple from their orchard which had the most satisfying snap as I bit into its firm, sweet flesh.

Just harvested Pinot Blanc

Folklor is a small operation that will sometimes utilize an ancient and rudimentary wine making technique— grape stomping. That’s the official term for stepping on wine grapes, yes with your bare feet, to release their juices, offering a gentler press. I did in fact make 69 jokes about putting the content behind a paywall and “really putting your foot into this wine” but graciously, everyone was a good sport about it.

Derrick hopped on the forklift and moved the giant vats of grapes from the bed of the truck and prepared a bucket for feet washing. Sarah was first, who anxiously climbed in, taking in the confusing sensation— sort of pleasant, sort of painful, but undeniably a memorable experience. Cam climbed in next and quite quickly, they were knee deep in juice, pulp and stems. Sarah asked if I wanted to climb into the other vat of grapes, and true to form I climbed in with very little hesitation. Certainly a bucket list experience, never mind that it was added to the list the same day it was crossed off.

from left to right: Cameron & Sarah grape stomping, Derrick sampling the juice, Iza testing the chemistry

My trip continued to my delight weaving me through the birch, maples, oaks and pines as I followed the curvy roads between Glen Arbor, Leelanau Peninsula, Traverse City and Central Lake. There were many tasty stops including but not limited to Trattoria Stella, The Mill, Farm Club and a couple humble farm stands where I couldn’t stop myself from purchasing maybe my 10th pound of pears this season along with a perfect miniature blueberry pie.

The Mill in Glen Arbor

I’ve been really into pears this fall, definitely inspired by the radicchio pear salad I had along with Sarah’s poached pears which I’m now talking about for a second time in a row. But the invisible pear cake has truly got me in a chokehold—I’ve made it now five times which was slightly out of research but mostly just out of insatiability.

Michigan-grown Bartlett pears

The first time I used Bosc pears which have a coarse skin and firm flesh. The second time I used Bartletts which were definitely favorable, and Sarah made some vanilla crème anglaise that we poured into shallow bowls with the slices of cake. I kept buying more pears so I kept making cakes seeing how the pears cooked at different stages of ripeness. Eventually I added some cardamom to the crème anglaise and I must say, this one has a real ethereal effect.

INVISIBLE PEAR CAKE

• 1.5lb Bartlett pears (about ~5 pears), ripe

• 1/3 cup granulated sugar

• 1 lemon, zest of

• 2 large eggs

• 1/2 cup whole milk

• 1.5 tbsp neutral oil (avocado, peanut, etc)

• 1 tsp almond extract

• 1/2 cup AP flour

• 1 tsp baking powder

• pinch of salt

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees & line an 11x5” loaf pan with parchment.

2. Core pears - I did buy a corer from People’s Restaurant Supply on Gratiot after my fourth cake because doing it with a pairing knife was annoying me. It was $7 and I highly recommend. Slice the cored pears on a mandolin to about 1/8” thick slices and never forget to be *so* careful when using this piece of equipment. Set aside pears.

3. Zest lemon into sugar and massage the zest into the granules until it’s well combined, 1-2 minutes. It should be very fragrant.

4. Add in eggs, mixing using a hand mixer or immersion blender with a whisk attachment until it forms a light, frothy consistency.

5. Add in milk, oil & extract and mix until combined, this won’t take long. Put away electric mixer.

6. Add in salt, baking powder and flour and mix by hand using a whisk until most of the clumps are gone. Don’t overmix the batter, whenever you add flour into your baked goods, agitating the flour encourages gluten production which is excellent in bread and to be avoided in cakes.

7. Add pear slices into the batter, tossing to coat all the slices. Some of them will fall apart depending on how ripe your pears are, that’s ok.

8. Arrange pears into the loaf pan, layering them as evenly as possible. I was both precious and quick trying out this process and didn’t notice a big difference in the final cake, so don’t be too meticulous here - just try to make the pears level.

9. Pour the remaining batter over the pears and give the pan a few hard taps to release any bubbles.

10. Bake for 55-60 minutes until a cake tester or tooth pick comes out clean. While your cake is baking, make your crème anglaise.

11. Let rest for an hour. The resting will help the cake stay intact, if you slice into it while its still warm the pears tend to slide around.

CARDAMOM CRÈME ANGLAISE

• 1/2 cup whole milk

• 1/2 cup heavy cream

• 1tsp vanilla paste, vanilla powder, or 1 vanilla bean sliced down the middle

• 4 cardamom pods

• 3 egg yolks

• 3tbsp granulated sugar

1. Using a mortar & pestle, crush cardamom pods just enough to expose their seeds

2. Combine milk, cream, vanilla & cardamom in a heavy bottomed pot over medium heat until steaming, do not boil. Once the mixture is steaming, remove from heat and let steep for 15-20 minutes, tasting the mixture to check how the infusion is tasting.

3. While you wait for the dairy to steep, mix yolks, sugar and salt together until pale.

4. Once your infusion is complete, strain your dairy to remove cardamom pods and/or vanilla pod. Slowly add a little bit of the warm steeped dairy to the eggs to temper the eggs— this will keep them from scrambling.

5. Return the mixture to the pot over low heat, adding in the rest of the dairy. Stir until the mixture coats the back of a spoon.

6. Remove from heat, once cool enough to handle transfer to a pourable vessel like a measuring cup and put a piece of plastic wrap directly on top of the crème anglaise to prevent a film from forming.

I like to serve this cake cold, sliced in 1 1/2” pieces with a healthy pour of the crème anglaise. I served this at Secret Garden Art Cafe this week with warm masala chai and it was a perfectly cozy taste of fall. I hope you enjoy it and impress yourself making dessert sauce, ‘cause I definitely did.