Yilin is fond of a dessert: steamed pear with rock sugar. In this handmade, thread-bound photography book, Yilin attempts to explore the origins of the "Asian pear" on the North American continent through imagery.

To live is to go from one space to another, trying as much as possible not to bump. - - Georges Perec

I love eating steamed pear with rock sugar. When I was a child and had frequent coughs, my grandmother would steam pears for me—she would add not only rock sugar but also Fritillaria, which added a bit of bitterness but was better for “clearing heat and reducing inflammation”.

At the end of 2022, when the COVID lockdown ended, my whole family contracted the virus. Our throats felt like they were being pricked with needles, and nothing tasted good. At that time, the only food that felt soothing was the soft, steamed pear with rock sugar. I was sent by the elders to buy pears for the dish, and fortunately, I chose the most expensive ones at the fruit stall (thinking the most expensive would surely be the best), the Japanese Akizuki pears. Compared to the traditional varieties of white pears with thin, light-colored skins and soft flesh, this type of pear is generally larger, with thicker, brownish skin and crisper flesh. If eaten raw, I prefer the crunchier texture of the Japanese pears. Of course, the stewed version also turned out delicious.

In 2023, I came to the US for study and living. At the fruit section of Whole Foods Market, I found the same type of Japanese pear labeled as "Asian Pear," just as large as the ones I had bought before. I was delighted and bought some to make steamed pear with rock sugar, as I happened to have some rock sugar from 88 Supermarket at home. With simple ingredients and cooking methods, I could enjoy a dish that reminded me of home, and this dish became a regular snack for me to recall my hometown (though, since everything in Whole Foods is quite expensive, I didn't eat it too often—just two or three times a month). Later, I even bought a bigger steamer to steam four to five pears at a time, cutting them up to share with classmates at school. When I explained to a vegetarian classmate that this was a dessert eaten after getting sick, she was thrilled because, from where she comes from, the usual recovery food was chicken soup, and this steamed pear dish had the same comforting qualities as the chicken soup one would have after an illness.

In the following days, aside from regularly steaming pears, I also paid attention to the pears themselves on the shelves. As spring approached, I noticed that Whole Foods Market replaced the Asian pears with a different variety, which was much smaller, with labels indicating they were produced in Chile. This was not surprising, as it was autumn in Chile at that time. Whole Foods Market never runs out of "Asian Pears" because they are produced globally. One particularly boring early morning when I couldn’t sleep, I got up and aimlessly searched for images of Asian pears on my computer. I found many interesting things, but the most fascinating was a listing on Facebook Marketplace for Asian pear saplings, selling for $30 each. On other fruit tree websites, Asian pear saplings generally sold for around $120 each. After taking a closer look at the account, I noticed the name seemed to belong to a Chinese person, located in Indianapolis. I was immediately intrigued, as this meant I might be able to grow a pear tree in Chicago. So, at 2 a.m., I messaged this account, inquiring if I could come and buy one. Two days later, after confirming with the seller that the pear tree could indeed be planted in Chicago (Since it’s dark and cold in winter times), I bought a bus ticket to Indianapolis.

A few weeks later, I took a Greyhound bus from Chicago early in the morning, then transferred to a few different modes of transportation, eventually reaching the seller's suburban home. The seller was an elderly man with gray hair and rimless glasses, speaking Mandarin with a strong Shandong accent, and he was in good spirits. He introduced me to the various pear trees in his yard: Shinseiki, Olympic, Hosui, and Asian Giant. There were nearly 20 trees of different sizes in total. We chatted about the key points of pear cultivation and which variety tasted the best. The sapling I was buying was grafted from the largest Olympic pear tree and was already four to five years old, likely to bear fruit by the end of the next summer. As I left with the sapling, the man said that in the fall, I should have his nephew in Chicago take me over to eat pears, as there would be more than enough to go around.

I brought the pear tree back to Chicago (even buying it a bus seat) and eventually planted it in my friend Matt’s yard. It should be thriving by now.

Before planting the sapling, I made this book.

The book measures approximately 18 x 13 cm (7 x 5 inches) and is hand-bound with a thread-sewn binding. The cover uses 320 gsm St.Armond colored paper, while the interior pages are made of 70 gsm white washi paper. The cover image is created using gelatin silver printing, and the internal images and text are inkjet printed. The images themselves are captured with 35mm black-and-white film. This book is a study of Asian pears from Whole Foods Market, covering botany, plant hunters, and immigration history.