Quinces

I have been writing, periodically, about difficult vegetables. It did not dawn on me, until this past weekend, that there might be a difficult fruit or two. I thought of coconuts, but honestly, I do not use them very often. Sticking to local as I try to do, coconuts just do not feature in my cooking all that much. When they do, I'm using the grated stuff to make a sorbet, or for cookies, or something like that.

Quinces, however, are somewhat dear to my heart. When I was growing up, there was a wild quince tree in the hospital grounds, where I worked. Their interesting shape and their fragrance fascinated me. As did the fact that no one seemed to know what to do with them, except the birds. Years later, when I found boxes of these large, apple shaped fruit at farmers markets, and smelled their indescribable and lovely perfume, I had to learn about them.

What I learned is that quinces have been around for a long, long time. They originated in the Mid East, where they are still treated with proper reverence, as both savories, and sweets. They were popular in England, where they were used for making jelly, either on their own, or as additives to other fruits (quinces have some of the highest pectin levels of all fruits). The trees were brought to America, and apparently, they were a "godsend," because quinces mature late. They're around when apples and pears are, and because they keep better than both of these, they serve multiple purposes. One of their cosmetic purposes has been to add scent to the linens of "ladies of leisure." I learned that a quince was put in the dresser where milady would keep her sheets and dainties, to add a lovely, light aroma to all.

So why do I consider these a difficult fruit? Bite into one - WAIT DON'T. If you bite into a raw quince, you will probably break a tooth. And if you don't break the tooth, you will nonetheless have a mouthful of bitter, mealy, nasty white flesh with a brownish tint that will make you think "what is all the fuss about?"

Quinces do not give up their secrets easily. They have to be cooked, and cooked slowly. If you cook them slowly, at a low temperature, you will get something with a beautiful, pale pink color. If you cook them slowly, for a very long time, you will get this brilliant red color that is astonishing. I think that is what first attracted me to them. I love bright sparklies, and slices of quince candy are bright red and translucent. And they are easy to prepare, although they take some work. And I'm going to teach you how to do this, and you're going to make them, at least once. After you do, you may go back and do it again. This year, I will probably cook about fifteen pounds of them this way. And I will use them in galettes, in lamb stew (ALWAYS a party favorite), shredded in apple pies, and in sorbets and ice creams.

But to make this wonderful candy, which Spaniards call "membrillo" and Italians called "cotagnata," what you need are three pounds of quinces. The fruits are very different in size, do don't guess. Weigh them. Go with more rather than less. Now, peel them, and then cut them into quarters and gouge out the seed cores. This is not easy. Quinces are very hard, the shape is not uniform, and you have to be careful with the knife. Gather some of the skin and pits, and tie them in a cheesecloth bag. You're going to want this for thickening what you cook. Now, you're going to put all of the sliced quinces into a pot, with the bag of junk you just made, and a lemon, sliced in half, to keep acid balance and to fix the color. Cover this with ample water, cover it, and bring it to a low boil. You now must cook this for at least an hour, maybe longer. You want to check the quinces to see: do they begin to fall apart when you go into them with a knife? If they do, they're done, and you're ready for the next step.

Get rid of that cheese cloth bag, and the lemon. Put the quince slices through a food mill (a food processor WILL work if you don't have one, but it will change the color. The processor whips air into the quinces and you will get an orange, rather than a red color). After you have this pureed, then stir in two cups of sugar. You'll have what looks like very thick applesauce.

Now, get a baking sheet, and oil a piece of parchment paper that you put on top of it. Spread out the quince puree as evenly as possible. Let it dry at room temperature for a bit.

Now, here's the step that freaks everyone out. Put your oven at the lowest possible temperature. Mine goes down to 170. 150 is better, but 170 works. Put the tray into the oven and go away. In fact, go to bed. I'm serious about this. You have to cook the quinces this way, for a good 8 to 10 hours. After that time, you will get a slightly tacky, bright red sheet with a flavor that is new to you unless you've had this stuff before.

Let it cool off in a turned off oven, or near an open window, or anywhere where the temperature is cool. After the tackiness is just about gone, remove the paste from the paper sheet, and cut it into squares. An oiled scissor is best here. You will have very tough, crunch edges, and those are yours to snack on. If you cut the stuff into 1x1 inch squares, you'll get about 60-70 pieces. You need to store these in a container that you keep OPEN. See, the quinces still have water in them, so if you trap them in a tin, they will soften, liquify, and just get gross (trust me on that).

Once you've made this, you will have something that literally will last the next nuclear war. It keeps forever. And it's a great thing to put out with cheese, or with nuts, or to just take with you if you are one of those people who need a quick slightly sweet pick me up during the day, and have gotten sick and tired of gorp and nut bars and all that other stuff. And you will be connecting with an old tradition. Quinces have been cooked this way for hundreds of years.

And if you happen to have friends from Europe, they will be extremely impressed that you made it yourself.