Quince: Fall’s Oft Forgotten Fruit

Fodder is scarce for the intrepid gourmet right now. Greenmarkets are crammed with gourds aplenty, and nothing much else. But don’t lose faith. I came across a basket of quince yesterday hidden from view under the voluminous bulge of a leathery-skinned squash. For those of you who have neither tried nor spied quince – large misshapen pear-esque fruit – you have quite the treat in store. In fact, I’m almost jealous of your impending first time. With its sunny, yellow disposition and unfortunate knobbly protrusions, the quince seems the court jester of the orchard. But don’t be taken in, treat the quince with reverence. Its fragrance and taste is nothing less than sublime.

If I could scent myself everyday in the rich, seductive perfume of quince I would. The exotic aroma eludes a succinct description but I will try. It’s as if the heady, sweet fragrances of fully ripened pineapples, mangos and persimmons were distilled in this single fruit and then a subtle smattering of rose petals and freshly ground cinnamon, clove and cardamom was judiciously sprinkled in. I imagine that this is how the boudoir of a princess from the Arabian Nights would smell like. Indeed, even if you never get round to actually eating a quince they make great deodorizers for a room. Just place “naked” on a book shelf or stud with cloves.

But a word of caution. Whatever you do, don’t bite into a quince. You are likely never to try it again. I say “likely” because if you are fortunate enough to come upon a quince which has been “bletted,” which is when the ripened fruit has been softened by frost and has undergone a degree of decay and fermentation whilst still on the tree, you might actually enjoy it. Ironically, this seemingly unpleasant process makes the fruit palatable by increasing the amount of sugars in the flesh and reducing acids and tannins. But this is not likely to be the case with any quince that you find in a local farmers market or grocery store. Though it is a member of the pome family and related to apples and pears, even the most perfectly ripe quince is so tart and astringent that it will make you pucker up rather unattractively.

In an enlightening article in the LA Times recently, David Karp explains the science behind the quince’s sweet perfume and sour taste:

There’s a new taste for quince — latimes.com.

The carotenoid molecules that give quince its yellow color break down into compounds, notably lactones and rose-scented ionones, that impart the fruit’s pungent floral aroma. Phenolic chemicals in raw quince flesh coagulate proteins in your mouth, causing the fruit to taste astringent; but when it is cooked for a long time, heat and acidity convert these compounds to anthocyanins, so the pulp loses its astringency and turns a pleasing pink.

The key then to enjoying the gustatory pleasures of the quince is in the cooking. As Karp mentions, a cooked quince is a world apart, both in appearance and in taste, from its raw brethren. The opaque flesh takes on an eye catching gem-like  translucent pink color and all the mouth-puckering sourness has given way to a pleasing tangy, fruity freshness. Quince is amongst the preserver’s best friends. It has a high pectin content which makes it ideal to cook down into an unctuous jam or jelly. Indeed, “marmalade” as we know it today got its name from the  traditional Portuguese quince jam called “marmelada”.  In the days before pectin could be bought in a packet, a little quince was often added to any preserve for its gelling properties. If you want to try your hand at some home-made quince jam, this wonderfully simple recipe from the blog Brooklyn Farmhouse, has many a  fan.

If the idea of the quince preserve appeals, but the long labor involved sends a shiver down your spine,I scoured the internet on your behalf for some  ready-made quince preserves that are merely a click away.  Hediard Fine French Preserves “Confiture de Coings,” would no doubt titillate the fancier palate. And for advocates of American Made, there’s the comforting Mrs Miller’s Amish Made All Natural Quince Jelly.  

If you frequent a decent cheese shop,  you’ll have come across dulce de membrillo – a Spanish terracotta-colored sticky but sliceable quince paste that has been rendered down with sugar and water over a low fire. Bought in blocks, a sliver of dulce de  membrillo elevates a slice of manchego or other hard cheese (especially a mature cheddar) to heavenly heights. Gourmet has a recipe for “Manchego Quince Paste Napoleons,” which would go down a treat at any upcoming holiday parties. And the great thing about it is that it is less a recipe and more a list of assembly instructions. Alternatively, try the paste simply spread on warm toast or as an indulgent filling in homemade turnovers with diced pears or apples dusted with a pinch of ground cinnamon and sugar.

For a less adulterated way to enjoy the quince, have it poached. Simply simmer peeled, cored wedges in a sugar and water syrup flavored with star anise, cinnamon and vanilla pods until tender – 20 minutes or so. Enjoy as a dessert, warm with vanilla ice cream and some of the syrup drizzled over or use to top a fruit tart. Alternatively, this spicy poached fruit makes a fantastic accompaniment to roast game, cutting through the richness of venison, duck or pheasant beautifully. Play around with the poaching liquor if you like. Adding different spices such as all spice berries or even a pinch of chili flakes. A slice of ginger gives a wonderful warmth but go easy or it will overpower the quince. Remember that whatever you add should simply enhance not hide the natural flavor of the fruit.

I recall when I poached quince for the first time and saved the leftovers in a Tupperware for the next day, I was delighted when 24 hours later, the rosy pink had evolved to scarlet. The longer you keep the poached quince wedges (in an airtight container in the fridge) their flavor and color will continue to develop. They’ll stay delicious for about a week. As for the quince flavored syrup, reduce it gently over a low heat and it will become thick and unctuous, emboldened by the pectin in the fruit. Bottle and keep in the fridge to adorn desserts.

When buying, as with all fruit, go for the unblemished specimens. This isn’t easy as the fruit bruise easily despite their natural hardness. You may find one of two quince covered with a soft, downy fuzz. As adorable as this may seem, don’t be taken in as it indicates the fruit are unripe. Normally, this fuzz will naturally rub away when the fruit ripens. Quince are wonderfully low maintenance. Keep for up to one month in your fruit bowl at room temperature. To prepare for cooking, wash, peel if you feel inclined to do so, cut into quarters, core then slice into wedges or chop into chunks. Much like a tough winter squash, the flesh of a quince can often be so hard that it can pose a challenge even to the most  hardened of chef’s knives. But persevere and you’ll be halfway there to enjoying one of fall’s most underrated epicurean delights.

Quince will remain in season until mid-December or a little beyond, if we are lucky. If you have any recipes you are especially fond off, please share!