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Pears baked in red wine and cloves (from Veneto)

Pears baked in red wine and cloves.

At a little trattoria in Treviso, at the end of a resplendent meal, the waiter suggested baked pears. When a pair of small, wrinkled fruits arrived, unadorned on their plate, I was reassured by the perfume that he had recommended well. Pears cooked in red wine sound ordinary and uninteresting. But these are baked, with their skins on, in large quantities of wine, sugar and cloves until the syrup is thick, the fruit condensed and aromatic. Served cold, they are as perfect a conclusion to a meal as one could wish for.

Serves 4

firm-ish pears 2kg
caster sugar 750g
whole cloves 4g
red wine 1.5 litres

DIRECTIONS

Use a baking tin with deep sides into which the pears will fit in a single snug layer. Sprinkle with the sugar and cloves, then add the red wine, so that it rinses any sugar from the surface of the pears and comes just level with their tops. Bake in a hottish oven (180C/gas mark 4), with the heat coming mostly from below if your oven allows. Bake for around 2½-3 hours, turning only 2 or 3 times until the syrup is thick and the pears wrinkled – perhaps a few have split, and are slightly browned on top. Leave to cool, then serve at room temperature. I think these are perfect on their own, but if you yearn for an accompaniment, try mascarpone cream.

via the guardian

Small Tiny Spaces - The Road

This is a memorable scene in both the book and film and is just one of the nice glimmers of hope which almost every zombie/ end to the world scenario needs; a crazy 1960s war scare bunker filled with tins. I love the attention to food and how it's so intense. They can't stay long so everything is savoured; the warmth, the nutrition and shelter. 

"Rough stairs carpented out of two by tens leading down into the darkness...

Oh my God, he whispered. Oh my God. 

   What is it Papa?

Come down. Oh my God. Come down.

it's all right.

   What did you find?

I found everything

There was just enough headroom for him to stand

"Chilli, corn, stew, soup, spaghetti sauce. The richness of a vanished world.

the boy said. Is it real?

Oh yes. it's real.

He dragged a footlocker across the floor between the bunks and covered it with a towel and set out the plates and cups and plastic utensils...tin opener...frying pan...bacon...eggs...coffee...condensed milk.

they drank coca cola out of plastic mugs

he crawled into the other bunk under the clean blankets and gazed at this tiny paradise trembling in the orange light from the heater and fell asleep"