Pears achieve perfection _ slowly. Blossom, bud, then bead that matures into fragrant fruit the moment it's swiped by a squirrel. In 10 years of tending pear trees, I've yet to nab a pear.
Driving me to drink. Poire Williams _ presumably invented by William, mad with swiped-pear frustration _ is a clear brandy often bottled along with a whole pear. Once I thought of the packaging as pear prison. Now I see it as safe house.
Spring, I slipped the buds down the narrow necks of bottles. Summer, I watched the fruit swell. Fall, I cut down the bottles and topped them off with brandy. Now my pears are beautiful, ripe and unassailable.
Which is to say I've still never tasted one.
