In my defense, I resisted this crumble for possibly even a single hour before going to the kitchen to assemble the ingredients. A whole hour, an hour in which we could have had a buttery, spiced gingersnap and brown sugar crumbled lid atop a glurp-ing puddle of soft, sweet pears and slumped, tart cranberries, bubbling through cracks in the rubbled surface. An hour in which I instead thought there were better things to do, like pretending to clean the kitchen while staring into space and imagining how good the crumble could be. They give out medals for this kind of valor, right?





My husband and I, well, we’re exactly as exciting as you might imagine because we talk about pears a lot. I’ll take the blame, I’m sure I usually start the conversation, which goes roughly like, “Pears? Really? You just don’t like pears?” And he’ll say “They’re just so one note. They’re sweet and boring,” usually while slicing another of his beloved Granny Smith apples into perfect quarters. (He’s such a tidy eater people, I comparatively eat with the grace of a Hoover). And the thing is, I agree with him 100 percent, but I see these things as characteristics, not flaws. However, in baking, I agree that pears could use a little help. They like acid and they like berries; brighter fall spices like ginger play off them well and you’ll be surprised what a pinch of white pepper can do to wake them up.

This crumble is adapted from a pie in a cookbook that came out a few years ago from a bakery in Park Slope called Sweet Melissa. The pie was single-crusted with a regular butter dough, but I skipped the base because I knew it would just play third fiddle to all the excitement on top of it. I like my pie doughs to garner as much attention as possible, thank you very much. As a crumble, this is another page in the fall bliss book, right up there with black bean pumpkin soup, cider doughnuts, harvest festivals and telling your kid that you’ll buy the biggest pumpkin he can lift only to find that he’s really quite a show-off and you’re going to be eating toasted pumpkin seeds until February. I digress! I made a few other changes — namely that I dialed back the sugar significantly, and am very happy that I did — but I kept the real genius of Melissa’s pie intact, which is they way she balanced the mellowness of the pear with all sorts of bright things like lemon, cranberries and a backdrop of spice. That gentle heat is dreamy, just perfect for the cooler days to come.

One year ago: Spiced Applesauce Cake

Two years ago: Cauliflower with Almonds, Raisins and Capers, Silky Decadent Old-School Chocolate Mousse

Three years ago: Deep, Dark Salted Caramel Sauce, Pink Lady Cake and Cabbage and Mushroom Galette

Four years ago: Gluten-Free Chocolate Financiers, Pumpkin Butter + Pepita Granola

Five years ago: Spinach Quiche and Pumpkin Muffins