For the first time in 3 ½ years, I have abandoned my post to go on vacation, and not gone anywhere. I didn’t immediately pack up my trusty 4-Runner with cargo pants in a multitude of earthy tones, a seemingly limitless supply of beef jerky, and a tripod big enough to inflict sizeable damage if it ever connected forcefully enough with any human body parts. I didn’t sneak quietly down my street at 5 am to drive clear across states galore to bring you tales of intrigue and adventure, and a few hundred images – several of which would have undoubtedly involved feet. I’ve not left the building; and let me tell you something – I’m feeling a little lost.
Up until a week ago I had grand plans to zoom around Wyoming brushing up on my command of buffalo, and chasing large, horned, and hairy beasts all over. Some of you might point out that I could do the latter in downtown Renton on a Friday night. You’d be right. I had my sights set on a beast of the genus Alces, or even Ursus, though. There is a small window of time when the kids are in school, the sky has yet to summon up enough water to dump a load of freezing white flakes at our feet, the beastie locals are still sporting their glorious racks, and no one has started shooting at the wildlife. Add to that the riot of colors Mother Nature dons along the side of the Yellowstone River and it’s the best two weeks of the year over at Yogi and Boo-Boo’s place.
Despite the best of intentions to bring you another round of exhilarating foot photos, and a trip report that would you have you scuttling for your laptop to book a getaway to Wyoming next October, I am still sitting at my desk in Seattle, and here I shall remain, although I’ve had a spattering of stray thoughts trying to inveigle me out the door to explore the lesser-visited parts of King County. The spectacular weather is not helping in that regard. It’s not easy sitting here when what’s happening on the other side of the window is warm, and blue, and sunny.
There are a myriad reasons for my last-minute change of heart – most of them good. One excellent reason though, is pears.
Pears are important. Important enough to stay home and talk to you about. It is, after all, the season for them – although it’s tough to tell what is actually in season these days. Grocery stores far and wide have the requisite magical powers to conjure up every fruit known to man and parade them, scantily dressed, before us year-round. Notwithstanding our ability to have pears whenever we darn well please, which – strange creatures that we are – would usually reduce our desire to have them, pears have taken on a whole new meaning in my little world lately.
It seems to me that pears have always been paired up with apples - like twins who were allowed to dress separately - apples always assuming the role of first-born. Apples are everyone’s favorite, pears their shy, retiring cousin. When I didn’t find apples at the top of the *SANE fruits list along with the other A’s, near panic ensued, and my eyes went scooting straight over to the P’s, fiercely hoping that, just this once, pears would stand on their own two feet and not blindly follow in apple’s footsteps. Because I really have a penchant for pears, and I reasoned that if apples were not in the business of supporting my body to reach the full extent of it’s potential gloriousness, that would be OK, as long as there were pears. Without apples and pears, I’d be facing – at a minimum - an additional 3 months of therapy.
Imagine my delight then, when I was able to pack a pound or two of pale green, smooth-skinned, juicy pears into my shopping basket last week. And if you could even imagine how much glee there was in my kitchen when I rustled up pears for breakfast. Because you weren’t expecting pears, and I do try to keep things exciting for you. I know pears for breakfast isn’t quite the adventure that the wilds of Wyoming conjure up, but really, for cereal desperados searching for a way out, pears could be just the ticket.
When you make this be sure that you don’t inadvertently make it into a smoothie. It’s meant to be savored – carefully and slowly – with a spoon. The texture encourages you to think sweet, porridgy thoughts – the thoughts I have every year once that infamous red-head – October – sashays into town. I know I shouldn’t say this, because everyone knows it’s wrong to have favorites, but these days I think I’d rather wake up to this than any number of hot and heavy bowls of oatmeal.
Regrettably for my therapist, an extra 3 months of therapy will not be required – not on account of pears, anyway.
- 2 large, firm pears, cored and cut into chunks
- ⅔ cup / 12 fl oz. unsweetened thin coconut milk
- 1 cup almond meal (not almond flour)
- ¼ cup ground flax seed
- 2 scoops vanilla whey
- ¼ cup shredded coconut
- Put the pear chunks into the bottom of a blender with the coconut milk.
- Add the almond meal, flax seed, and vanilla whey.
- Blend on low just until all the ingredients are completely combined and there are no large pieces of pear left.
- Add the shredded coconut and blend on low just until the coconut is mixed through.
- Spoon into serving bowls and top with a little shredded coconut.
I find the pears add enough sweetness, but if you have a sweeter tooth, add xylitol (or equivalent) until your desired sweetness is reached.
This keeps well in sealed containers in the ‘fridge so you can make a larger batch in advance and eat over several days if that works better with your schedule.