Never have expectations, like wanting to serve wild turkey for Thanksgiving but fearing the gun or serving Irish Coffee instead of cake but hating Crème de Menthe even though it is an apéritif and French, or sounds French. Everyone knows that anything French is worth eating.
Once I baked a soufflé, but it went flat like the profiteroles, requiring too much technique, too easy to fail for someone without culinary school. I needed a signature sweet and settled on Pear Tart—a little flour, butter, and sugar, then an egg, cinnamon, nutmeg. Arranging pear slices neatly is the most difficult part. Unsalted butter makes it French, and my guests don't suspect I never took cooking classes in Lyon where housewives sometimes use canned pears instead of fresh.