Saturday, 7 April 2012
A high maintenance love affair.
I have a quince tree.
I love quinces but I am not alone:
Moths love them.
Ants love them.
Mould loves them.
Last year even rats loved them.
You can't eat them raw.
You have to cook them. Because of the moths, ants and mould, there is a lot of halving, coring, trimming, quartering and peeling. You then stew them or bake them. As mine are never whole, pristine fruit like the ones in the photo, nabbed via Google, stewing is the go.
Before you leap in and tell me about Quince Paste, let me say I tried making it one year. It becomes a seething, boiling, volcanic hell-hole of a saucepan. It spits lava at you. Hot, blistering lava. The only sensible way to stir it is with a towel wrapped around your arm.
But I have found a better way: dehydrate the poached segments.
They dry to a beautiful texture that goes beautifully with a nice cheddar.
Today I cooked the remainder of our crop. A lot of trimming and peeling. The worm farm got the trimmings, happy little worms. I get the rest.
Some of the stewed fruit will be dessert, the remainder will hit the dehydrator. Can't be bad.