I love quinces. There is nothing so-so about them. This is a passionate affair.Their perfume must be bottled. I try to trap that wonderful scent in jelly. The original 'love apple' quinces live up to their name when slowly cooked releasing that seductive aroma.
Today my first batch of 'the best quince tree', a Smyrna, were ripe, perfect ripeness. That moment that you capture, not every year, but when you're lucky enough to have the right season and manage to visit your tree at the right moment. Only the scent tells. Yellow skin and a loosening of the furr are indications only, a deep inhalation is the cue for jelly. I like to add a mixture of greener fruit for their higher pectin making the jelly set that bit easier. The pineapple quinces will be ready soon too.
Every step of Quince preservation is delightful. Picking from beautiful trees, handling the fruit releases a divine fragarance, intensifying as you are rubbing, chopping, poaching, boiling and baking.
Like a child at christmas greedily unwrapping all of the presents at once I started every process... pickling in vinegar and verjuice, poaching in sugar syrup, then in verjuice and spices, slow baking, boiling for jelly and mashing to a paste.
Tonight calls for the celebratory Quince Harvest Dinner - usually a Tagine with quinces but this year I have Pork Belly with Preserved Quinces (chef Nigel Rich's suggestion - nothing quite like having a resident chef around), followed by slow baked quince halves in honey (that one is from Stephanie's book).
The answer is no you can't have too much quince.
