Poir-fect Pear: Williams' Bon Chrétien aka Bartlett

The Williams' pear is more commonly known in the states as the Bartlett, and is the most readily available of the varieties I've posted so far. Here in Michigan, the staples tend to be Bartlett, Bosc and D'Anjou pears, as far as commercial varieties go.

 

Unfortunately I am not a huge fan of the Williams' pear. When ripe, its flavor edges toward simple and almost flat, with powerful citrus notes coming from the skin that really dominate the senses. It certainly doesn't hold the subtleties that the other varieties I've written about do.

It's still a very old pear, which makes it worth writing about (at least on the blog), and is thought to have originated in the late 1760's in Aldermaston, England. I ended up making juice from some of these as well, but found the juice to be cloyingly sweet with little else to offer. I used it to mix with some strawberry juice and it worked really well as a sweetener and the inclusion of the pear skins kept the flavor really bright.

Poir-fect Pear: Forelle

For several years I have grown a speckled lettuce in my garden called "Forellenschluss". It's buttery and crisp and I've loved it since the first time I tried it, especially because of its intense name. Say it with me... for-EL-len-SCHLUSS. Whew.

Well, this entry isn't really about lettuce. It's about the Forelle pear. Did you know that "forelle" means "trout" in German? I certainly didn't! When I read that, it was like I could feel that chunk of information tangibly clunk into place in my brain. The lettuce... and the pear... are speckled... like a trout. Woah. 

I feel like Keanu Reeves, here... Wooaaah. 

Poir-fect Pear: Abate Fetel

Just look at these babies. Long and somewhat alien, with just enough russet for interest without enough to give you that matte texture on the skin that feels a little weird against your teeth (you know what I'm talking about, right?). They're fragrant, floral and intensely sweet. I made juice with some of the more ripe pears in my basket and sure enough it was like drinking pear-flavored honey. Amazing. 

The Abate Fetel is, from what I can tell, a late 19th century pear developed by a French monk (Abate = Abbot). The thing is, from preliminary internet research, I've found all sorts of conflicting information about its development! 

The only formally published information about it that I could find was that it was in a book from 1886, claiming it was a new cultivar available from France. I have found orchard and nursery sites claim it to be developed in 1866, and other sites that say it was bred by monks in the 16th century. How frustrating!

I'm beginning to wonder if the tree itself was developed by monks way-back-when, but it wasn't released as scions for commercial production until 1866... It certainly didn't make it over to the states until the 1880's though. It's now one of the top pears in Italy, which is additionally frustrating because when I use the internet to search for information all I get are Italian websites talking about modern fruit production and export. Boo.

Ah, the woes of researching antiquated fruit varieties... the fruits themselves are hard to find, but real, fact-based documentation of them is even worse! More often than not I find myself reading accounts from folks' great-great-great grandfathers who ran orchards and whatnot.

UPDATE: I finally was able to get my hands on a more recent book on the history of pears and have read now that the Abate Fetel is indeed a late 19th century pear. Thank goodness for books! The internet can be so full of misinformation.

Poir-fect Pear: Packham's Triumph

My mother just told me she thought my photograph was Poi-fect. I think she meant it to be like a Three Stooges thing... but to me (and my weary, pear-researching brain) it came off as a hilarious play on words, using the French word for pear - Poire. I'm not sure if this is an indication of my over-zealous nature, or my lame sense of humor...

Anyway, I began playing with photographing some of the few antique varieties that I have access to in this off season.

The first that I managed to find was the Packham's Triumph pear, a cultivar introduced in 1896 in New South Wales, Australia. I had to run back to the store to grab a couple more last night because the first ones that I had so very carefully picked from the shelf for their stems and leaves had been ravaged by a menacing store employee who, in her OCD rampage, shaved their remaining twigs from their tops as she bagged them. I was livid, in a sort of keep-it-to-yourself-you-don't-want-everybody-to-know-you're-actually-crazy sort of way...

When I went to pick up the new pears, I blurted my story to the guy ringing me up (who was actually in training, the poor chap) and when he and his supervisor made weak and very polite attempts to "connect" and seem interested, I heard myself begin to spout off the history of the Packham's pear to them and instantly knew I'd begun to edge toward crazy-pear-lady-status. I stopped, almost mid sentence, to spare them the bulk of my mania. My brother, who had been standing on, said later that he was proud of me for stopping myself... and something to the effect that he was sure I was going to be that guy's "First day at work, is everybody this crazy?" story.

When does a project go from "project" to "obsession"? Hmm... food for thought.

Having actually started accumulating fruit and taking photographs as got me so excited for this summer; you have no idea.