There's something ugly beautiful about quinces, an autumn arrival in the well-lit greengrocer's. The knobbly, lumpy shape, the scabrous/mottled surface, their inedibility, uncooked.
And yet - their knobbly, lumpy shape, the subtle interplay of lime and pale brown, the amber clarity of quince jelly, the pleasure on the tongue of quince paste with good cheese.
Years ago, in a country town, an old couple gave me quinces from the tree in their backyard. I'd not met quinces before, but after some quick cookbook research, essayed quince jelly. It worked out well enough to enter it in the (uncrowded) quince jelly class at the local country show - which it won. So I was able to generously bestow prize-winning quince jelly on friends (and the old couple). Never made it since - maybe it's time to try making quince jelly or quince paste.
1 comment:
I bought a great card once that said, "It must be wonderful to be a quince -you're never the wrong shape."
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