Cinnamon Pear Rustic Tart

Week 410. Winter 2024. I am 41 years old and standing in my kitchen — the Bench house kitchen, the one that held cancer and divorce and cinnamon rolls — and the stove is on and something is cooking and the house smells like soup and bread and this is my life. This is the life I built.

I went for a run this morning — the Saturday routine, the greenbelt, the river, the particular meditation of feet on a path and lungs filling and the body doing what it was told it couldn't do. The running group meets rain or shine.

Mason is 13 and navigating middle school with the quiet competence that has always been his way — focused, kind, certain of who he is in a way that took me thirty years to achieve.

Lily is 11 and riding horses with the fearlessness of someone who has never considered the possibility of falling.

I made cinnamon rolls this week. The food continues. The food always continues. It is the thread that connects every week to every other week, every year to every other year, every version of me to every other version — the woman on the kitchen floor, the woman at the chemo recliner, the woman at the grill, the woman at the outdoor table under the string lights. All of them, connected by the food they made with their hands. All of them, me.

The cinnamon rolls I made this week were really just a reminder of what I already know: that the food I make with my hands is the thing that holds my life together. When I wanted to share something in that same spirit — warm, spiced, a little imperfect in the best way — this cinnamon pear rustic tart was exactly right. No fuss, no perfection required, just cinnamon and fruit and pastry folded together by someone who has learned, finally, to trust her own hands.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
3–4 tablespoons ice water
3 medium ripe pears, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
3 tablespoons brown sugar, divided
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
1 tablespoon coarse sugar (for sprinkling)

Instructions

Make the crust. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and granulated sugar. Add the cold butter and use your fingertips or a pastry cutter to work it in until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces remaining.
Add water and rest. Drizzle in ice water one tablespoon at a time, stirring gently with a fork until the dough just comes together. Form into a disk, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
Preheat and prep filling. Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). In a medium bowl, toss the sliced pears with 2 tablespoons brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cornstarch, and vanilla extract until evenly coated.
Roll the dough. On a lightly floured surface, roll the chilled dough into a rough 12-inch circle — it doesn’t need to be perfect; that’s the beauty of a rustic tart. Transfer to a parchment-lined baking sheet.
Assemble the tart. Arrange the pear filling in the center of the dough, leaving about a 2-inch border. Sprinkle the remaining 1 tablespoon of brown sugar over the pears. Fold the edges of the dough up and over the outer pears, pleating as you go to create a rough border.
Egg wash and bake. Brush the folded crust edges with the beaten egg and sprinkle with coarse sugar. Bake for 35–40 minutes, until the crust is deep golden and the pear filling is bubbling and tender.
Cool and serve. Allow the tart to cool on the baking sheet for at least 15 minutes before slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature, on its own or with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cinnamon Pear Rustic Tart — The Food That Connects Every Version of Me