Quince Preserves
My first awareness of quince came from the movie White Men Can’t Jump when Rosie Perez, whose character dreamed of going on Jeopardy, memorized “Foods That Start with the Letter Q.” (Besides “quince” there was “quail,” “quiche,” and “quahog.” Not sure of the fifth!) But I didn’t eat a quince — or cook a quince — until I was in my twenties.
And boy was I missing out. If cooking is a kind of alchemy through which you transform an ingredient from one expression of itself into another, no fruit goes through a more beautiful metamorphosis than a quince. That’s why I was so excited to see them at the farmer’s market this weekend.
Using a recipe from Homa Dashtaki’s wonderful book, Yogurt & Whey, I started out by weighing the three quince that I brought home.
It’s a really simple ratio: whatever your quince weighs, you use half the amount of sugar.
And then whatever your sugar weighs, you use half that amount for the water.
As for prepping the quince, you just cut it in half (Homa has you leave the skin on) and cut out the seeds and tough interior. (I started with a paring knife, but a spoon worked better.)
Then you cube the quince and add it to a pot with the sugar and water. At this point, Homa has you add crushed cardamom pods, but I went with a cinnamon stick, whole Allspice berries, vanilla bean paste, and cardamom powder because that’s what I had.
Then the magic begins. You bring to a boil, lower to a simmer, and cook for at least ninety minutes, or longer if necessary. I made a little parchment paper hat to keep the quince submerged.
The way this smells while it cooks is heavenly. And if you peak under the hat during the process, you’ll see those hard-looking quince squares become jewel-like and soft.
At first, they look a bit like poached pears. But an hour in, the color turns rosy and then, eventually, to quote Homa: “a brilliant coral maroon.”
At this point, I took the parchment hat off and let it cook further to reduce the syrup. At the end, I had a pot full of something that looked impressive and regal, as opposed to the humble ingredient with which we started the process.
Doesn’t it almost look like candy? I love how Homa describes the taste: “Like strawberries and pineapple and honey all at once.” I ladled this into jars (I brought one to a dinner party as a gift) and now I have the best topping for yogurt, cheese, toast, you name it.
So if you’re lucky enough to find quince at the farmer’s market or the grocery store, grab as many as you can. Not only are they fun to cook, the preserves make for a surprising and colorful gift — especially paired with quail, quiche, and quahog.
Quince Preserves
Based on a recipe from Homa Dashtaki’s Yogurt & Whey
Makes as much or as little as you want, depending on how many quince you use
Ingredients:
2 parts quince, washed and fuzz wiped away
1 part sugar
1/2 part water
1 cinnamon stick, broken in half
1 tablespoon whole Allspice
1 tablespoon crushed cardamom pods (or 1 teaspoon ground cardamom)
1 tablespoon vanilla bean paste (optional, but nice)
Instructions:
Cut each quince in half and scoop out the core with a melon baller or a knife, making sure to get all of the tough membrane-y bits in addition to the seeds. Cut each quince half lengthwise into 4 slices, then cut each slice crosswise into 1/2-inch cubes.
Put the quince, sugar, water, cinnamon stick, Allspice, cardamom, and vanilla paste in a pot; choose one that is large enough to allow at least 5 inches headspace as quince tends to float when it cooks. (If you want, you can cut out a circle of parchment to press on top to keep the quince submerged.) Bring to a boil on high heat, then lower to medium-low and maintain a constant simmer for then next 1 1/2 to 2 hours, stirring every so often.
If using the parchment, remove during the last half hour of cooking. The quince is done when it’s tender but not falling apart — similar in texture to a poached pear. Allow the preserves to cool to room temperature. Remove the cinnamon stick and cardamom pods, if using. Transfer the preserves to glass jars or plastic containers, cover, and store in the refrigerator for several months.
My first awareness of quince came from the movie White Men Can’t Jump when Rosie Perez, whose character dreamed of going on Jeopardy, memorized “Foods That Start with the Letter Q.” (Besides “quince” there was “quail,” “quiche,” and “quahog.” Not sure of the fifth!) But I didn’t eat a quince — or cook a quince — until I was in my twenties.