Pear as madeleine

The doctor and I canned pears in eau de vie last weekend (well, technically it was aquavit, because that's what was on hand). I've had a bee in my bonnet about putting up whole pears in alcohol, but hadn't ever had the appropriate facilities to try it. The doctor had kindly selected some d'Anjou pears from the local farmers' market, so I poured in the required sugar and alcohol, and dropped a vanilla bean in each jar.

As I stood back to admire these 4 jars (the contents of which won't be ready to be consumed for another 3-4 months), I realized they reminded me of Poire William, a digestif I learned to appreciate thanks to my Anglo/Swiss Uncle Mike. Mike was Rabelaisian in his appreciation of life, and the shortness of his life belied the impact he had on his stepchildren and step nieces and nephews. He was a man of great excesses (including humor), and a true gourmand. His approach to a family dinner (it didn't matter what the season!) was to pull out the raclette grill and fire it up, scraping the cheese over our potatoes while booming at us all to "pass your plates!" Fondue was a similar affair, only in this case the command was "stir, dammit, STIR!" so we didn't let the cheese clump in the pot. He taught me a lot about appreciating life, and his admonition to drink some Poire William after dinner to cut the effects of our cheesy feasts still rings in my ears every time I partake of a melted cheese supper. I miss him to this day, but think he’d be pleased (and bemused) to know that I’ll toast him when I finally open a jar at Christmastime, and taste a lovely, liquor-infused pear.