I went a little crazy at the grocery store on Friday night. First, I found the bin of organic pears. They were absolutely adorable, tiny little things, and before I could even fetch a plastic bag for them, my hands were in the bin, picking out the best ones.
About five seconds later, I saw multi-pound bags of pears. Now, I’m often suspicious of fruit sold in big bags like that because while a bag may be a bargain, the quality might suffer. But these pears looked great—no weird soft spots, worm holes, or evidence of abuse. So I took home a big bag of pears, and now I will be eating them for the next month.
Or maybe not. I could make a pear crumble, or a pear tart, or roasted pears. I could put them in salad, a la Matt, or tuck them into muffins. But honestly? I’ll probably eat most of them raw, cut into slices, maybe with some cheese on the side. No matter how much fancy or mind-blowing food I eat, I always come back to the feeling that simple is best. Or maybe it’s just that simple is home base, and anything else is a pleasant bonus.