FAIL - his royal highness, the princely quince

well a colleague was lovely enough to give away quinces at work recently, and once i managed to get my head out of the bag and stop smelling it, i made quince paste. or tried to.

it is princely, but it is also punishing. it sticks like concrete to the dishes and burns you if you touch it.

a labour of love produced four jars.

four jars of rock hard quince. woe betide the servant of quince! fool to temperature and timings. swoon and utter abject misery.

banished from the kingdom of sublime scent. unrequited cheeses, all doomed...

the sad thing is, i shy from failures, i likely won't try it again. there are too many other preserves to try. if i had a quince tree of my own, yes i would toe the princely line, but nope.

hark, i hear there are some pomegranites on the horizon...

Hugh F-W our hero, and garlic in a jar

i bought this awesome book. it's loveliness is endless. it's country as, progressive in a way of c'mon get with the times and eat local, slow food etc. i love it.

i immediately pickled some garlic and fennel in jars, which we have been fortuitously been putting aside.

the best thing is that the guy behind it all is Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. Whom we love. Doesn't he have a dreamy name? Dreamy dream, River Cottage is our dream.

Pink peppercorns have a certain style. See.

and those are the olives that the fiend bought and has been processing slowly with water and salt and we will have delicious olives forever more.