I posted quickly the other night that [I love pears][1]. That’s true, and the post stands. Pears are delicious.

But I like them for another reason.

When I find myself thinking about eating something after dinner (an activity about which I am circumspect, having effectively not done that deliberately as part of a larger weight-loss strategy), the usual suspects fall into my mind: That can of Virginia peanuts in the pantry! Liccorice! A nub of chocolate!

Depending upon what FoodNoms tells me is my calorie balance for the day, I often spring for frozen blueberries, or more recently, a pear. Rhonda loves them, too.

Grabbing a pear isn’t so simple as plucking one from the crisper and chomping down, though. I have a process that involves a few curated steps:

1. Peel the sticker off of the pear: you can’t eat those. I hated this step and sometimes sought to affix the offending decal to the cutting board, until I committed to just trashing it. It takes a few seconds and a half-dozen steps.
2. Core the pear: Rhonda bought a uni-tasker a while back, which is just a metal tube you push into the fruit to core it. It’s pretty efficient and fast if you take the time to set up your aim.
3. Weigh the pear: I like to know how many calories I’m eating. Sue me.
4. Slice the pear: I get a good 16-20 thin slices out of the whole fruit. This goes on a tiny cutting board. Perfect for sharing.

OK, so why enumerate such quotidian steps? I like the routine. Maybe it’s a sign of middle age, or an expression of my overly-active left brain (my brain is a loud mash of language, all day. All day.) It’s a process entirely spatial and physical in its completion. It involves some work and care in its preparation, in contrast with the quick hit of dopamine you get from unwrapping something sugary. It takes a little time before you can enjoy it.

Coffee is like this, for me, too. So many people jam a plastic cylinder in a machine, pull a trigger, and ruefully gulp down tepid brew in a litany of morning ablutions. For my parent, I adore the weighing, grinding, and measuring that goes into my morning jag, via pour over. Good beans, simple tools, time, and attention.