As is the case much of the time, the story of this recipe begins with a produce bargain (my shopping vice). Bags of perfectly “imperfect” late season Bartlett pears, their yellow-green skin blushing to red, with juicy-sweet flesh underneath.
I do this every year with both Bartletts and Boscs. And every year, after all possible ways of eating them fresh are exhausted, the final few get to hang out in the spa. Lucky them, luckier us.