A Trio of Quinces

     This year has been a motherlode for quinces.  I have found a source for free quinces via a friend of a friend, and lucky me.  This might be my new favorite fall fruit.  But there is a problem:  Who knows what to do with them?
     Quince: much more a European fruit, in it's traditions, I think.  It's from the rose family, and appears to be more of a cross between apple and pear.  The taste, raw, is terribly astringent, and I don't know of anyone who tries to eat it this way.  No, it's cooked and in doing so, magically transformed into a lovely light pink, with a beautiful almost perfumed aroma.  The taste is more tart than pear, but not really like apple.  I guess we could say it tastes like quince, but that would be annoying.  ( I recall having moose for the first time in my early 20's.  The cut or the preparation is not on a par with how my sister prepares this meat, and I recall thinking that it tasted just like I would think moose would smell. Which while not profound, seems to mimic this situation somewhat)
     While there are certainly recipes for this fruit, found on the internet, it seems a bit on the under published side.  I will attribute this to the aforementioned lack of familiarity in some areas.  Indeed, I don't believe it is really grown commercially in this part of the world.  Rather, it is found in back yards of homes where a prior owner was intrepid.  This results in lucky strikes for someone like me who is just getting her feet wet with preparing this item.  I am considering going back for more.
    To that end, and because I had somewhere just short of 40lbs in a box, I found and made 3 different recipes.  These are adaptations of recipes from different sources:  one from Food and Wine, one from Sunset, and one is an adaptation of a pear jam recipe that I have made from a cookbook by Edon Waycott.   I canned all 3, even though the first 2 recipes don't speak to that.  That is the unknown factor, but I am not afraid.
     This fruit is a hard one to love.  It peels easily enough, but the inside is quite hard, and thus has the hallmark of a potential laceration or worse if handled without some caution.  Consider yourself forewarned.  Not everything can hand itself to you with ease.   I am sure there is an appropriate metaphor out there somewhere.

               

Spice Pickled Quinces

adapted from Sunset

makes 4 pints

1 cup each sugar and apple cider vinegar

4 large strips of orange zest

6 cloves

1 tsp peppercorns

2 cinnamon sticks

3 bay leaves

2 lbs quinces (4-6, depending on size)

Bring 3 c. water, and all ingredients except the quinces to a simmer in a large pot.  

While this is heating, peel, core and cut the quinces into eighths.  Add to pot. 

Maintain heat to that there is a slow simmer, and cook thusly until fruit is tender when pierced, approximately 30 minutes.

Transfer the fruit with a slotted spoon to pint jars, and then spoon in the syrup with some of the spices to each jar.  

At this point, either cover cool and chill at least 1 day, or:  seal with new lids and can in a hot water bath x 20 min. 

Quince and Cranberry Compote

adapted from Food and Wine

makes 4 pints

1 c sugar

1 c water

1/2 t kosher salt

3 cinnamon sticks

4-6 quinces, peeled, cored and cut into 1 inch chunks

4 apples, preferably fairly sweet ones, like Gala, peeled, cored and cut into 1 inch chunks

1 c. cranberries, fresh or frozen

2 T honey

Zest and juice from 1 lemon

Bring sugar, water, salt and cinnamon to a boil.  Add the prepared quince, and cook about 5 minutes.  Add remaining ingredients and cook another 5 minutes, until fruit is tender but not broken down.  

At this point, you can serve it as is (FW used it as a topping for pancakes), or:  spoon into jars, seal with new lids and can in a hot water bath x 20 minutes

Vanilla Quince Jam

adapted from Preserving the Taste by Edon Waycott

Makes approximately 9-10 1/2 pint jars

5 lbs quinces, peeled, cored and cut into 1" chunks

3 c sugar

2 vanilla beans, cut down the middle lengthwise

Place all ingredients in a large pot, and bring to a boil.  Cook at a slow simmer until the fruit has broken down, approx 30-45 minutes.  Remove the vanilla beans, and puree with a stick blender until you have a coarse mix, with some chunks remaining.  The overall texture is up to you.   Taste to make sure it is sweet enough.  Scrape the inside of the vanilla beans and add to the pot.  

Spoon into 1/2 pint jars, seal with new lids and can in a hot water bath x 5-10 minutes.  

Tex Mex Cornbread, or my Tribute to Steve

     Today is one of happy coincidences.  I ran into my old friend Steve in the hallway at work today.  He and I go (egads) back to the late 1980's when we used to eat dinner together and talk politics.  Because of him, I obsessively read Harper's magazine cover to cover each month, in order to stay coherent and not seem like an imbecile.  I don't know if it worked, but while we don't see each other as often as I like, he is a fond friend.  He definitely has raised my consciousness and I feel like I am a better person because of him.  I was mortified, after we spoke today, to discover that it was his birthday as well.  Mea culpa.
     This, particularly after he so very kindly complimented me on my prose here on this blog.  He reads my blog!  All this time, I assumed that I had a couple readers, but no one consistently.  I am perhaps mistaken.
     Well that's 2 coincidences.  Another seems thematically similar.  I pulled cornmeal out the other day with vague plans for cornbread with chili.  The chili got made, but I didn't budget enough time for the cornbread, so it got deleted.  But I have been obsessing about an idea.  This is for not just cornbread, but souped up cornbread.  Cornbread with Additions, we could call it.  I found a starting point in a recipe from Crescent Dragonwagon online.  She populates my cookbook shelf in the form of a valued tome called Soup and Bread, but this is a variant.   I can say that she has never failed me yet.   Her recipe calls for corn, cheese and chilies to be added to her cornbread.  That didn't quite cut it for me.  I wanted it to be more robust.
     I added sautéed onion, red peppers, a finely chopped tomato (last one from the garden no less).  The corn was frozen, and I substituted cayenne for the jalapeño that I didn't have.  After that, it was more or less the same.  Ahem.  And here is another lucky coincidence.  The onions caramelized.  The cayenne caused a very gentle heat.  The cheese melted and created a certain something.  There was this lovely crust on the bottom.  This is a cornbread that transcends the ordinary.  Paired with beans, I had a delightful and thoroughly pleasant meal.  I would say something to tie this back to Steve but I would embarrass both myself and him.   So I won't.  But I will offer this recipe as a tribute of happy coincidences to him, and hope to see him again soon.

Tex Mex Cornbread with Additions

serves 4-8, depending

adapted from recipe from Crescent Dragonwagon, evidently published in Fine Cooking

1 1/2 T butter

1/2 medium onion, finely chopped

1/4-1/2 red pepper (about 1/4-1/3c) finely chopped

3T jalapeno, finely chopped (or 1/4 t cayenne if you don't have any)

1 small tomato, finely chopped (2T chopped)

1 c stone ground yellow cornmeal

1c flour

3/4t salt

1 T baking powder

1/4 t baking soda

1 egg

2 T sugar

1/4c vegetable oil

1 1/4c buttermilk

1 c grated cheddar cheese

1 c corn

Oven at 375F.  

Saute onions and peppers in butter until translucent, over medium heat.  Add tomato, and corn, if it's frozen.  I would suggest a 10" cast iron pan for this.

Mix cornmeal, flour, salt, powder and soda together. 

Mix egg, sugar, oil and butter milk together.  

When the oven is hot, add the dry and wet ingredients, mix until just combined.  Stir in corn and cheese.  Quickly and very lightly stir into veggies in the pan (it doesn't matter if it's not well mixed) and bake for 25 minutes, or until golden brown.  

Prepare for your own happy coincidence.