Quince/Wince

Posted: 11/05/2011 10:58:59 p.m.

Some things simply don’t deserve to be at the butt end of my snide humour. Not many things, mind you, but there are some Sacred Cows. The Young Achiever Awards, for example. Animals facing extinction. Orphans. Killer diseases. Unjust wars. You get my drift. Not everything is funny. Quinces too are deadly serious things and I learned this the hard way, when I worked on food magazines.

Of all the duties involved in getting a monthly magazine to press, none, I learned, was more solemn nor sacred than the choosing of The Cover. The Cover was always decided last, once the rest of the pages were ‘put to bed’. The Cover was chosen by senior staff. The Cover could make or break an entire issue. Putting the wrong dish, the wrong colours, the wrong props, the wrong font, the wrong ANYTHING on a cover, was tantamount to committing publishing hara-kiri; no one would ever buy a magazine that had a Bad Cover. Or an Ill Advised Cover. Or a Weak Cover.

Problem was (and no doubt still is), that what was considered ‘right’ for a cover was terribly subjective and those with the most authority on the matter (advertising execs, publishers, utterly witless editors) tended to know the least about food. And magazine covers for that matter. And there’d always be some sodding pedant who wouldn't agree with the selection. To streamline the process, dictums would come down from On Park Street High about the types of foods/styles/colours to be avoided on covers and the list of prohibitions read like something out of Leviticus. No seeds. No bones. No BROWN food. Nothing too chopped up. Nothing too monumentally big. No blood. Needless to say burnt offerings, unclean animals and food touched by menstruating stylists were also banished from the mix.

Desserts were viewed as ‘pretty' and 'appealing’ and 'safe'. Once, we merry food team cooked up a sweet, quince-flavoured storm for a winter cover shoot and the image that ended up in print was of half a fruit, sliced lengthways, poached to deep, rosy, sticky goodness and plopped, in full uncored splendour, into a puddle of tantalisingly glossy liquid. We loved it. It looked like something you’d actually want to devour with your bare hands. It looked lush. It looked like pure pleasure. It looked as though it begged to have a mouth wrapped all around, and all over, it. It looked like it needed a finger to sweep across its’ juiced-up extremities and a tongue to lick deeply of the flavours locked within. ”It looks like a vulva” our publisher snapped when she first clapped eyes on it.

By then, however, it was way too late. She’d been on holidays when the image went to press; swanning around a south east Asian resort precluded her from Cover Selection Duties and the uproar that ensued when she got back was of biblical proportions. She wanted heads on platters, she wanted heads on sticks, she wanted heads to roll. When she looked at that quince, her mind didn’t register quince. To the rest of us the cover shot was nothing more than a fair likeness of a competently poached pomme fruit but to her it simply screamed ‘VERJAYJAY!!’ We weren't’ sure what she’d been beavering away at during her snatched time in Thailand but it’s fair to say the woman's’ ability to reason was a tad off kilter. The offending food team tried to suppress sniggers of incredulity at how ‘pudding’ could became ‘pussy’ en route from optic nerves to brain but, given the gravity of the situation, laughing within her earshot guaranteed a one way ticket into Deep Shit. We all left the office fearing the sack. Or at least to awake the next morning to a Biblically-proportioned plague of boils, fruit bats or a pink sea of rubber private parts bouncing gaily up the street. Naturally she calmed down, that issue of the mag sold it’s socks off and work life returned to the usual cycle of food shoots, recipe editing, cover selection, passive-aggressive office politicking and cat-fights with the advertising team. The quince-masquerading-as-a-twat incident faded into the annals of publishing history. Although the publisher-behaving-as-a-twat one has scarred me for life. I’ve never looked a quince in quite the same light since that traumatising episode although this hardly puts me off cooking them. or, er, eating them.

Quincey tips ‘n’ tricks

- There are 2 main varieties- the Smyrna and the Pineapple quince. The former has smaller fruit with a more pronounced quince flavour and doesn't tend to break up even when long-cooked. Pineapple quince are larger, bright yellow fruits that are earlier ripening than the Smyrna. But this is a bit academic really....quinces aren’t sold according to variety and you just have to buy what you can get when you see them

- Even when fully ripe, quinces are rock hard. Despite this they are actually rather fragile and bruise easily. So handle and transport them carefully. Prepare them with care too- as they are so hard it’s easy to slip with your knife (make sure you’re using a sharp one) and injure yourself.

- Quinces will keep for up to 3 weeks in the crisper section of your refrigerator - maybe even longer. Leave them in a fruit bowl at cool room temperature and they will permeate the room with their unmistakable sweet, musky fragrance.

- Quinces are often covered in a fine downy substance. Wash it off before peeling.

- Quince flesh turns brown upon exposure to air so prepare the fruit just before cooking. If you are preparing a number at once, slip them into a bowl of acidulated water (water with a little lemon juice squeezed into to) as you go. Drain them well before cooking.

Poached quinces
serves 6-8

875ml (3/13 cups) red wine
1 kg (41/2 cups) caster sugar
2kg quinces (about 6), peeled, cored and each cut into 6 wedges
2 cinnamon sticks
1 x 3cm piece singer, peeled and sliced

Combine the red wine with 875ml (31/3 cups) water and sugar in a large saucepan and bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally to dissolve sugar. Add the quince and spices, bring to a simmer. Place an inverted plate over the quinces to keep them submerged then cook over a low heat f0r 11/2-2 hours or until quinces are deep red and tender. Carefully remove the quinces to a large platter or bowl using a slotted spoon, taking care not to damage quinces. Bring the liquid in the pan to the boi,l then cook over medium heat for 30 minutes or until reduced and syrupy. Cool the quinces and the liquid, removing spices, then serve quinces with some of the syrups spooned over. Whipped cream, good vanilla ice cream, mascarpone or slightly sweetened, whipped ricotta are good accompaniments. As is creme anglaise flavoured with vanilla pods or pounded cardamom seeds.

Pot Roast Quinces
Serves 6-10

This is based on a Maggie Beer recipe and what I love about this is you do NOTHING to the fruit except wash it..No tedious coring, no time-consuming peeling. You simply cook them whole for a heeluva long time in water and loads of sugar...after which the cooking liquid turns softly firm, rather like quince jelly and the fruit is soft and richly flavoured. You can eat them, skin and all, although you might want to fish out the cores...use the flesh as is with cream or custard.. or as the basis for other recipes such as crumble. Or the quince fool that follows. They keep very well in the refrigerator.

6 not-too-large quince (mine were about 275g each)
1kg (41/2 cups) caster sugar
1.5ml (6 cups) water
2 fresh bay leaves
1 vanilla pod
21/2 tablespoons lemon juice

Place all the ingredients in a large saucepan- a preserving pan is ideal. Bring the mixture slowly to a simmer then reduce the heat and cook for 5-6hours, turning the quinces occasionally, or until they are deep ruby red and the liquid has reduced a little. Serve the quinces warm or cold.

To make quince fool, take 2 large pot roast quinces...or 2/12-3 if smaller. Remove the cores and as much of the skin as you can be bothered- it should slip off easily but if not, no matter. Place in a food processor and process until a very smooth puree forms. Whip 125ml (1/2 cup) pouring cream until soft peaks form then gently stir into the pureed quinces with 80ml (1/3 cup) or the cooking liquid. Divide among 6 serving glasses and refrigerate for up to hours or serve immediately. Spoon a little extra quince cooking liquid over if desired.