“Half memoir, half travel, A Yank Back to England...is an absolutely wonderful book, not only about going home again but also about love and family and tradition and the passage of the years.” —Michael Dirda, Pulitzer Prize-winning literary critic (Washington Post) To see the entire quote, click here.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Don't knock the stuffing!
Here’s a refreshing, very simple starter to add to your repertoire. The Stilton cheese make this a very proper English dish. This recipe is enough for at least four servings, with a half a pear per guest. Of course, you might like this so much you’ll need a whole pear! You need two ounces of Stilton and the same amount of cream cheese. Two ripe pears, salad fixings, a lemon, and olive oil. Here’s what you do. Crumble the Stilton (no nibbling!), then combine with the cream cheese and whip—we use a mini food-processor for this—until well blended. Use any pears that look and feels nice and ripe. Chill down the pears for an hour or two, then peel and slice in half. Use a spoon to core them out, then spoon the cheese mixture into the hollows you have so cleverly created. I serve the pear halves on a little bed of lettuce garnished with endive spears, and walnut halves that have been sautéed in butter for just a minute.
The pear halves and salad bits are dressed with a vinaigrette made of lemon juice, olive oil, a pinch of salt, and a little sugar. Freshly ground pepper is the final touch.
This is a refreshing and delicious starter, and so simple to put together. Too simple? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!
Standing, from L to R: Lew (Dad), Frances (Prodigal Wife), Denis (The Prodigal Tourist), and Jessie (Mum). Floating: Kate (Prodigal Daughter).
About this blog
You are reading random vignettes, deleted scenes, and other extras from and about my book, A Yank Back to England: The Prodigal Tourist Returns. Enjoy, let me know what you think, ask questions, and thanks for your support! Cheers, The Prodigal Tourist
Years ago I shed my Cockney accent and left London's blighted East End for America. Since then, I’ve only returned to see my increasingly cantankerous parents and assorted relatives. Until my American wife comes along. She wants to tour, see the sights. No thank you. It’s not for me. But she insists, and I become a reluctant tourist in my former homeland.