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...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment