As a kid I used to wonder – worry, even – about how rich people worked out what presents to get their loved ones each year. If everyone around you can buy whatever they want, whenever they want, how do you get them something special? I’m still yet to be in a position to find out; but I’m not alone in this fear if the Succession through-line of characters being utterly woeful at giving and receiving gifts is anything to go by (I still cringe to think of Connor offering his aging billionaire father a sourdough starter for his birthday).

I was reminded of this when considering the majesty of the frozen puff pastry sheet: the way it turns a humble handful of ingredients into culinary elegance, lending instant opulence. Even if people are quite well aware that it came out of the freezer ready-rolled, its presence suggests time and sedulous care.

Much as I’d love to be rich enough to not need instant-luxury conceits, cooking with puff pastry feels like you’ve pulled off an elaborate sleight-of-hand card trick, and what price that kind of satisfaction? I mean, I’d really rather be rich. But it’s undeniably pleasant to face the world with such simple wonderment from a sheet of frozen puff pastry. Who needs baubles and jewels and other assets when you can be rich in appreciation or whatever this is? (Again, me. But still!)

This is a rather autumnal offering for this spring-blossomed time of year, but as I’ve said repeatedly, the seasons are growing more and more meaningless, besides which this is just what I felt like eating on the day I made it. Fruit and cheese are more than happy to be good neighbours on a cheeseboard or charcuterie platter, so of course they’re terrific together in this more focused way.

The fragrant, juicy and dense pears meld with the rich parmesan to provide sensationally sweet-salty ripples of flavour while the floral nature of the pears with the parmesan’s pungency are their own delicious push-pull. Dancing across the top are the honeyed walnuts with their brief lick of chilli heat; partly because you can’t half-ass autumnality even in the middle of spring, partly for tender crunch and because the golden strands of parmesan benefit from a little extra sweetness and that back-of-throat touch of bitterness that walnuts have, and, I suppose, partly for an added bump of protein. All of this is held together by golden, tissue-delicate layers of pastry, all achieved with such remarkable haste that pulling an actual rabbit out of a hat could hardly be more impressive.

The pastry usually comes five sheets to a pack; with the remainder, you could consider this Easy Apple Tart, my Simple Rhubarb and Custard Tart, and my Eggplant Roulade.

Easy Pear and Parmesan Tart with Chilli Honey Walnuts

As well as being simple on its own, this recipe is super adaptable – use different nuts, with or without the chilli and honey, or not at all; try rosemary or sage instead of thyme, and apples are the obvious swap for pears. But, pears, parmesan, and lightly sweet-spicy walnuts, resting on a crisp, aerated pastry base? Perfect. Recipe by myself.

• 1 x 25cm (thereabouts) square sheet of frozen puff pastry
• 1 teaspoon dijon mustard
• 2 crisp pears – Packham or Anjou or similar, but I wouldn’t use nashi or bosc
• 4 tablespoons grated parmesan (use vegan if you wish)
• 3 tablespoons walnuts
• 2 teaspoons honey
• 1/4 teaspoon chilli flakes (I used gochugaru)
• salt, to taste
• a little olive oil, for brushing
• a teaspoon or so of thyme leaves, for serving

1: Set your oven to 200C/400F. Lay the sheet of pastry on a baking sheet and use the tip of a knife to lightly score/trace a one-inch border inside the margins, without slicing through the pastry. Doing this means the pastry border will puff up, leaving the centre flat. Spread the teaspoon of dijon mustard in a thin layer in the inner square of pastry.

2: Finely slice the two pears – you may only need one and a half, in which case, snack time – making sure to cut around the core (I mean I assume you know we’re not eating the core but I feel compelled to tell you just in case). Sprinkle one tablespoon of the grated parmesan over the pastry – it doesn’t matter if some falls onto the border – and arrange the pear slices on top however you please, fanning them out in an even or irregular tableau (I went for irregular).

3: Sprinkle the remaining 3 tablespoons of grated parmesan over the pear slices. In a small bowl, mix together the two teaspoons of honey, the 1/4 teaspoon of chilli flakes, and the three tablespoons of walnuts, to coat the latter in the former. Drop the walnuts evenly over the pears. Brush the border of pastry with a little olive oil, if you wish, and sprinkle a pinch of salt over everything.

4: Bake for 20 minutes (though, check at 15) until puffy and golden. Served scattered with the thyme leaves.

Makes nine solid square slices.

Note: You can buy ready-grated bags of parmesan which is perfectly fine to use here; recommended even. But please don’t use powdered parmesan unless it’s all you have and you’re very sure of yourself.

music lately:

Mountains by Prince & The Revolution, there’s something in that relentlessly driving – synth? Keyboard? I don’t know, I’m not a scientist! But whatever it is, it’s so mercilessly, hypnotically dynamic. RIP!

Rumble by Link Wray. Laconically swaggering and yet suggesting just enough barely-contained menace in those juddering tremolos that you can see how it was banned by the myopic squares of its day.

Geek Stink Breath by Green Day, I love its swerving-round-corners chorus and the garage influence and the way it keeps driving onwards without taking a breath; not dissimilar in that regard to the aforementioned Mountains.

As If We Never Said Goodbye by Mazz Murray from the musical Sunset Boulevard. Look, nothing’s going to unseat Betty Buckley’s version which makes me cry just thinking about it but the way Ms Mazz parks both feet squarely on the ground and bellows out That Part of the song (which, if you’re not as rabid as I, is the part you should jump to), well! I am a simple woman and I have chills!