Saucy Spiced Pears

Mother's Day. I cooked Mama dinner at her duplex Sunday. Pop sat in the recliner. Smothered chicken, rice, gravy, biscuits, peach cobbler. Mama said, "DeShawn. Don't make me eat too much." She ate two plates. She is the foundation of this family. I tell her every Mother's Day. I will tell her every Mother's Day until I cannot.

Pop's in the recliner. Tigers on. Sugar in range this week. Sunday at Mama's. She made greens with hambone the way she has since 1985.

Smothered turkey wings Sunday. Slow braised in onion gravy.

Aiden's 10. The youth basketball league. I'm coaching. He's the best player on the team and he knows it. Zaria's 7. Helps me cook on a step stool. Has opinions about the seasoning.

I drove home Sunday past the plant. The plant lights were on. The line was running. The line is always running.

Filled the propane tank Wednesday. The smoker is the only appliance I baby. Wiped it down. Checked the gaskets. Checked the temperature gauge. The smoker is mine the way Pop's torque wrench was his.

A song came on the radio Tuesday — old Stevie Wonder — and I had to sit in the truck for the rest of it before I went into the store. Some songs do that. Detroit is a city of songs that do that.

The drive home Friday was the long way around. I took Outer Drive past the lake. The water was still. I do not always notice the water. I noticed Friday.

Stopped at Eastern Market Saturday. Got chicken thighs, bacon, a watermelon, and a pound of greens that I did not need but bought anyway. The vendors know me by name now. Three of them asked about the family.

A neighbor down the street gave me a tomato plant Saturday. He grows them on his porch. Said he had extra. I put it next to the back step where it gets the afternoon sun. Detroit gardens are improvised victories.

I cleaned the smoker Sunday morning. Brushed the grates. Emptied the ash. Wiped down the body. The smoker repays attention. So does most everything that matters.

The basketball court at the rec center got refurbished. New floor. Plays different. Bouncy. I shot a few from the elbow before practice Wednesday. The knee held. The shot fell short.

Truck needed an oil change Saturday. Did it myself in the driveway. Took an hour. The neighbor across the street gave me a thumbs-up from his porch. I gave him one back. Detroit men do not waste words on car maintenance.

Aiden had practice Tuesday and Thursday. I drove. He shot threes for an hour after.

Drove past Jefferson North on Tuesday. The plant is still the plant. The trucks coming out. I waved at the gate guard out of habit. He waved back even though he didn't know me. The plant is its own neighborhood.

Mama left me a voicemail Wednesday. She said, "DeShawn. Don't forget Sunday." I had not forgotten Sunday. I have not forgotten Sunday in twenty years. The reminder is the love. I called her back.

I made grocery lists on the back of envelopes the way Mama did. The list this week was short — onions, garlic, half-and-half, cornmeal, a pound of bacon. The list is the recipe of the week before it happens.

The kids next door knocked over my trash cans Tuesday night. Their dad made them help me clean up Wednesday morning. Good man. The kids apologized. I gave them each a Capri Sun. Cycle complete.

A reader wrote in about the smothered pork chops. Said her late husband loved them. I wrote back. I told her about Pop. We exchanged three emails. She's in Saginaw. She's coming to the city in the spring.

After two plates and a peach cobbler, Mama still wanted something small at the end — nothing heavy, just something warm to settle everything down. That’s where these saucy spiced pears come in. The week had already asked a lot: the plant, the drive home the long way, the smoker, the kids, the voicemail I did not need but was glad to get. By Sunday night I wanted to put something gentle on the table. These pears are that. Simple sauce, soft fruit, the smell of cinnamon in a warm kitchen — the kind of thing that doesn’t demand anything from you after you’ve already given everything else.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 firm ripe pears (Bosc or Anjou), peeled, halved, and cored
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup water
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Prep the pears. Peel, halve, and core the pears. Pat them dry with a paper towel and set aside on a plate.
Build the sauce. In a wide skillet or saucepan over medium heat, combine the brown sugar, water, and butter. Stir until the butter melts and the sugar dissolves completely, about 2–3 minutes.
Add the spices. Stir in the cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, lemon juice, vanilla, and salt. Let the sauce simmer for 1 minute until fragrant and slightly thickened.
Simmer the pears. Nestle the pear halves into the sauce cut side down. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and cook for 10 minutes. Turn the pears gently with a spoon, baste with the sauce, and continue cooking uncovered for another 10–12 minutes until tender when pierced with a fork. The sauce should coat the back of a spoon.
Serve. Plate the pear halves cut side up and spoon the warm sauce generously over the top. Serve as-is, or alongside vanilla ice cream or a dollop of whipped cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Saucy Spiced Pears — Something Small and Sweet to Close Out Sunday