Grandson Nathaniel saw fruit on our counter and offered to make dessert. I know better than to question his culinary judgment, so I hid my lack of enthusiasm for poached pears. Poached eggs are delicious, but I am not attracted by the word “poached”. It suggests you’ve stolen something and killed it in boiling water. How appetizing is that?

Grandson David commented on the action in the kitchen. “You’re really good at peeling!”

I turned to look. Nathaniel had his own peeler, and the skin was flying. In no time he had the fruit on the stove. Before long he called us to the table. Each whole pear rested beside a scoop of French vanilla ice cream he’d made at college. He drizzled chocolate sauce over the pears, and we sat down to a delectable treat.

He told us the dish was invented by the great French chef, Auguste Escoffier. The formal title is Poire Belle-Hélène, which rolled off his tongue easily. Our dessert tasted as elegant as Nathaniel made it sound.