They were not sliced thin or fanned out with pretension. They were halved, cores scooped out, leaving a cavity that Silas filled with a mixture of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a grated orange zest that smelled like high summer.
The tavern was called The Empty Flagon, but the dish that kept it in business was known as the Flaming Pear.
A pillar of blue-and-orange flame erupted from the skillet, licking the soot-stained rafters. The heat washed over the front row of tables, forcing the merchants to shield their faces. The fire roared like a living thing, dancing over the pears, toasting the skins, caramelizing the sugar into a brittle, smoking shell.
They were not sliced thin or fanned out with pretension. They were halved, cores scooped out, leaving a cavity that Silas filled with a mixture of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a grated orange zest that smelled like high summer.
The tavern was called The Empty Flagon, but the dish that kept it in business was known as the Flaming Pear. flaming pear
A pillar of blue-and-orange flame erupted from the skillet, licking the soot-stained rafters. The heat washed over the front row of tables, forcing the merchants to shield their faces. The fire roared like a living thing, dancing over the pears, toasting the skins, caramelizing the sugar into a brittle, smoking shell. They were not sliced thin or fanned out with pretension
