Chai Pear Scones

I've scarcely seen the sun in the last month. Thick clouds obscure the light, turning day into reflections of night. Even though my body aches for a good dose of vitamin D, the overcast skies and foggy mornings lend a beauty all their own. Mother Nature's dreary mood makes it easy to stay at home, buried underneath blankets, sipping hot black tea. Comfort food fits the character of the weather. Earlier this week I made a batch of homemade chicken noodle & barley soup; half a dozen hot meals later, I can say with certainty that I'm glad to have used the biggest pot.

Though the leaves have left the trees bare long ago, fall weather is still in the air.

With gloomy skies outside the window, it has become increasingly difficult to pull myself out of bed in the morning. In the summer, when the sun rises bright and early, I feel awake and ready for the day, afraid I may miss out if I linger in bed any longer. In the fall, I'm lucky to see the other side of eight in the morning. The dark, sunless skies make me want to bury myself in the warmth of the blankets and stay in bed for hours, cozy and comfortable. Despite how I'd rather spend my mornings, responsibilities never stop calling. I allow myself to hit the snooze button once or twice, using it to prolong the inevitable first steps out of bed.

With sleepy eyes and an aversion to brightness, I slowly find a way to face the day.

The long, dark weather makes it difficult for me to get any real work done. In between watching television and reading books, I'm drawn to the warmth of the oven and sweetening the air with the scents of autumn. Dark, moody days are my favorite for photography. I know most photographers prefer to shoot by the bright light of the sun, but I adore how the somber light brings sharp shadows and a rough texture to the food. The food somehow feels more raw to me, making the food appear less overdone (but no less appetizing).

These scones were photographed on the dreariest morning of last week. With a rain streaked window and only a hint of light coming in through the panes, I feel like I managed to capture the essence of the morning.

Chai Pear Scones is where the love of scones meets the enchantment of a cup of tea. The chai spices complement the complexity of a ripe pear in this simple breakfast pastry. A good sprinkling of sugar on top of the scones before they go into the oven ensures they will develop a thin, sweet crust which adds great texture to an otherwise tender scone. The scones themselves are not very sweet, so the subtle nature of the pears is truly able to shine through. I've said it before and I'll say it again—scones and overcast skies are meant to be enjoyed together.

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Pear Crisp

The falling leaves of autumn remind me that I'm growing older. When the leaves begin falling from the trees, I start dreaming of raking up a pile to jump in. I've always found the smell of fallen leaves comforting, even as I pull colorful leaf fragments out of my hair after I've had my fill. However, these little dreams are short lived as I quickly remember that I neither have a rake nor a yard of leaves to gather together. To make up for the disappointment, I like to trudge through the leaves on the sidewalk in my heels, crunching my way to and from the car with satisfaction.

Though I may often look and sound like an adult, there is a child resting just below the surface, longing for a pile of leaves to dance in.

There are two trees in front of my parent's home that begin changing colors as soon as a hint of fall is in the air. While my parents often wished the trees would hold onto their leaves longer than the first of October, my sister and I relished in playing in the fallen leaves wearing only a light jacket in the golden autumn sun.

These trees, however, are peculiar. Though a few leaves are lost to the wind here or there, the trees typically drop all of their leaves at exactly the same moment, usually taking only a few hours' time. I imagine the trees talk to one another, planning the occasion by passing messages through their entangled roots. The dropping of the leaves has quickly become one of my favorite moments of autumn.

When the trees drop their leaves, it is similar to a rainstorm; they fall from the sky in a moment that can only be described as wonderment. There are times when the leaves descend so hard and so fast, it is possible to become buried in only a few minutes' time if you found yourself lying beside the rough trunk of the tree. I remember one morning with particular fondness. It was a Saturday. My sister and I awoke to a windless morning and raining leaves. We ate our breakfasts in record time, spending the rest of the morning beneath the trees playing and laughing and reveling in the innocence of the moment.

Every year since then, as I watched the changing of the leaves from green to gold, I wished and hoped the leaves wouldn't drop while I was away. I was afraid to miss the moment. To miss the simple magic only fallen leaves could bring.

Pear Crisp is a sincere dessert to enjoy after a day spent in the autumn sun. The flavor of the crisp is clean and pure. The pears are roasted in brown sugar and vanilla (with a hint of bourbon, if you dare) while the crumble topping shines with a combination of oats and sliced almonds. Though I love to steal bites of cold pear crisp from the refrigerator, this dessert can be served hot with a side of ice cream to warm up cold noses and chilled ears.

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Brown Butter Pear Muffins

Pears are easily one of the most delicate fruits. The elegant teardrop shape bruises with the push of a thumb. A ripe pear is elusive; always too firm or over ripe, it can make finding a beautifully ripened pear feel like winning a small lottery. The juice is sweet, the flesh is soft, and the subtle fruit, once dangling from a branch in an orchard, is suddenly capable of stealing a moment.

In the fall, I love to fill my grocery basket with apples and pears. The two fruits contrast nicely against one another—one fruit firm, the other one soft, one sweet, one tart—but it is the pear I look forward to most. Cut into at just the right moment, it can taste like a work of art.

Pears, chocolate, and brown butter is a flavor combination I've visited before. In the early years of this blog, when the photography was embarrassing and my ability to weave a story was just developing, I made a Bittersweet Chocolate Pear Cake for one. I had just moved to a new country on my own, in a city where I didn't speak the language. Settling into my new apartment, I started by emptying my suitcases, assembling the new furniture delivered from IKEA, and purchasing a gallon of gray paint to cover the orange on my bedroom walls.

Before popping open the lid on the paint can, I went to the kitchen and turned on the oven.

As I spent the next few days locked up in my room with a paintbrush in hand, I alternated between listening to music and the rhythmic French voices in the apartment below mine. The cake I had made just for myself was eaten in slivers, with a fork to carve out the pieces instead of a knife. Over the course of painting and unpacking, I created a new beginning for myself, starting a new chapter to fill out the pages of my new life.

Though the cake was a simple cake with sincere flavors, the cake intertwined itself into the memories of those early moments of a life on my own. I can only look back on those days fondly, remembering the forkfuls stolen as the sun was rising and my neighbor's voices drifted in through the open windows.

Brown Butter Pear Muffins are a healthier take on a memorable cake. The depth of flavor comes from the browned butter, which has a rich nuttiness and complexity. Freshly diced pears are added to the batter along with enough miniature chocolate chips to bring in a subtle chocolate flavor without becoming overwhelming. I left the skins on the pears as a personal preference, but you can easily peel them if you choose. The muffins hold more flavor than they appear, rounding out any breakfast or afternoon snack.

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