Cape Town - To do, or not to do, is at the core of who we are or want to be. For those blessed or cursed with a creative soul, leaving a void legacy is a depressing thought. Yet now and then such creative beings do something they aren’t even aware of having achieved, and become historically associated with it, long after their demise.
They’re the antithesis of the Van Goghs of our world, the artists who strive vigorously during their lifetimes only to die dejected, and yet who with trenchant irony achieve everything they had yearned for after their death, never having even a moment of savouring their triumph. Maybe such people get to come back as rock legends or Hollywood A-listers, who knows.
When CH Packham bred his Packham’s Triumph pear in Australia in 1896, he couldn’t have imagined his triumph would be known throughout the world in our times. It’s the most commonly sold and eaten pear in South Africa. But the pear in my mind this week was not the ubiquitous green and knobbly Packham’s, but the lesser-known Abate Fetel, the presence of which in my kitchen persuaded me to finally make a tarte Tatin.
This French blessing of a dessert is one of life’s greatest pleasures. And I wonder what the Tatin sisters would think if they could see, today, the continuing success of their creation, even in the world’s finest restaurants. And that is one of the marvels of a tarte Tatin: a great chef can make it, and have his gourmand customers swooning. And so can you and I, because it really isn’t all that difficult.
The legend is that Stephanie Tatin, the elder of the siblings who ran l’Hotel Tatin in Lamotte-Beuvron in the Loire Valley, one day placed her prized apple tart in the oven with the contents upside-down, by mistake. In a hurry, she served it anyway, to the requisite swoons of guests. They’re long dead – the younger sister, Carolina, died first, in 1911, while Stephanie (Fanny) died in 1917 – but the tarte is alive and well, just as the hotel is still operating.
The tartetatin.org website relates this account by a member of the Société Géographique du Cher after a visit to the hotel: “It is almost 8pm, and our stomachs are growling. Fortunately, right across from the train station stands the Hotel Tatin... The staff has been awaiting us, and the dinner menu, once read, brings forth a swell of excitement. It is extraordinarily bountiful and almost worth sharing here for the illumination of future generations; the dinner is unquestionably superb, and topped off, at our insistence, by a warm apple tarte that is the speciality of the house, and might rightfully qualify for a patent, along with official endorsement, for as long as Miss Fanny Tatin minds the stoves. This incomparable treat, famous all over Sologne, is an invaluable asset to the economic geography of the region. Since it is late in the winter, it is also the last tarte Tatin of the season for the hotel, which makes it taste like a slice of history.”
The Abate Fetel pears are normally exported but Tru-Cape is marketing them at certain South African stores (including Shoprite Checkers and Spar) until late July. Maybe they have an over-supply, or perhaps the European markets have enough of their home-grown ones, Abate Fetel being the prime pear crop in Italy.
I’m finding them sweet and crunchy, softer than the Packham’s Triumph and with hardly any core and pips to speak of, so that you can eat almost the entire pear. Described as an heirloom varietal named after a French monk in 1896 but bred in the 15th century, they’re perfect for peeling and poaching whole, or halving and using for a pear tarte Tatin, as I did this week.
Pear tarte Tatin
4 to 6 pears, whether Abate Fetel or another variety
4 Tbs Van der Hum liqueur
50g unsalted butter
100g castor sugar
1 stick cinnamon
1 star anise
4 cardamom pods
1 small tub mascarpone
1 pack frozen puff pastry, defrosted at room temperature
Flour for dusting
Peel and halve the pears, and toss in a bowl with 2 Tb of the liqueur. Or slice them thickly to layer, overlapping, around the dish. Ideally you’ll needed a 20cm to 24cm tarte Tatin dish, but you can improvise as I had to. I have a heavy non-stick pan which can go straight from the hob to the oven.
Spread the butter in it evenly using your fingers and sprinkle the sugar all over the butter. Allow the sugar to caramelise over a low heat, tossing the pan and scraping with a wooden spatula, until it’s pale golden. Remove from heat and add the cinnamon stick, star anise and cardamom. Add the pears and cook, turning, until golden all over.
Arrange the pears around the same pan, rounded side down (unless in slices, in which case arrange symmetrically), and return to the heat to cook for about 10 minutes to soften the pears.
Have a circle of pastry ready, cut out using a dinner plate or cake tin (use your nous, Daisy) slightly wider than the rim of the pan. Lift the pastry on to the fruit, then tuck the sides down carefully around the inside edge of the pan. Bake in a 220°C oven for 25 minutes. After a few minutes, turn out on to a dinner plate, slice and serve with mascarpone into which you have stirred 2 Tbs Van der Hum liqueur.
Toast the Tatin sisters and tuck in.
Weekend Argus