Ómós Digest #70: Quince & autumn.

A time of changing colours. Written by Cissy Difford.

As fruit goes, the venerable quince presents itself with a self assured familiarity and locality. One might presume that it would and should grow abundantly in Ireland. And then, while thrashing through tall grasses or thorny briars, running into abandoned fields and orchards laden with apple trees, pears and even a rogue plum, rarely have I discovered quince in any great abundance. Not least with the reward of yielding fruit! 

And so, when Cissy Difford proposed that she write about quince, I hoped that I would learn two things: One, she might at long last help uncover the hidden whereabouts of quince in Ireland. And secondly, I’d learn a sweet preparation or two containing this gloriously Victorian fruit! Afterall she has quite a pedigree! 

Cissy has been a central and very familiar face to many of us found prowling the Scéal bakery stall - the pastry (or butter) thirsty hyenas that we become on Saturday mornings… For the last 3 years, she has worked alongside the wonderful Shane and Charlotte at Ireland’s best-loved bakery (in my mind anyway). Over the past couple of years, I’ve been enamoured by her skill and passion for ‘all-things-nice’ which has led us to a great exchange of recipes, borrowed techniques, book swaps and even culinary collaborations (you might remember the Sip‘n Dip when Covid was at its peak, and people had nothing better to do than queue for beef sandwiches and choux buns). Prior to Scéal, Cissy has also worked under many other fine establishments such as Lyle’s in London, Rochelle Canteen, Hart Bageri, Ottolenghi, Spring Restaurant, Wakelyn’s Agroforestry, Pump Street Bakery, Flor Bakery and La Grotta Ices. It’s fair to say, she knows one or two things about pastry, and sweet treats. Now, let’s see what she has to say about quince! 

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, like myself, Cissy had little luck with sourcing quince in Ireland, which subsequently sent me on a self-assigned rat race (or quince quest) to determine whether quince really did not grow to the same prolific degree as it does in the U.K. My efforts took me up north to Mike’s Fancy Cheese, who appeared to be producing membrillo (quince paste) to be paired with his famous Young Buck blue cheese. As it transpired, Mike was making the membrillo using apple and pears, as quince was not to be found. However, keen to help, he led me to numerous other sources, who had a couple of old trees here and there. Each of these trees were located within the walls of old Victorian gardens. Not satisfied with a quince or two (this would hardly provide me with a season’s bounty), I got onto Mark Jenkison, of the Cider Mill in Slane. To my dismay, Mark stated that in Ireland the climate prevents quince from growing in any great quantities, impacting greatly on yield. 

 It is often the case that these weird and wonderful quests reveal a treasure trove of goods. In this case, it appears there is very little historical evidence that quince ever had much success in Ireland. With the way the world is heading, and the various microclimates present in Ireland, who knows, perhaps one day, a glut of quince will appear.  

Low and Slow — by Cissy Difford

Over the past few months I have travelled around the UK on a sort of culinary expedition. Each week working in a different establishment, from bakeries to chocolate factories, to restaurants and an agroforestry. This ‘work’ was a real luxury. I not only got to spend time with some incredible chefs and bakers but I also got to eat their delicious products and absorb their wisdom like a sud filled sponge. 

In my final week of exploration I assisted Kitty Travers in her South London ice cream shed La Grotta Ices. Kitty, the founder, creates an array of inspiring flavoured ice creams and sorbets using seasonal produce. During one of our breaks, we walked over to Roots and Shoots, a community garden that focuses on vocational training for young adults struggling in the education system. Here, Kitty feeds the compost mound with the waste from ice cream production. Being located just off a shrieking road in Lambeth, I was amazed to see a thriving pocket of nature. Amongst the bountiful veg I spotted a tree embellished with golden fruit, hanging low on the branches. The incongruity of this quince tree and the city’s full fat Coke kind of energy surprised me but made me excited as it confirmed the changing of the seasons; the darkening of days, smoking fires and slow cooking that waited only around the corner. 

Now that we’re fully in this Autumnal blanket, quinces are ready for harvest (from October to late November). These are pome fruits (a fruit with a fleshy exterior and hard central core with seeds) closely related to apples and pears. Most commonly you’ll see them being used in pastes and jellies and served with cheese but recently enough, they’ve become popular on chef’s menus. This is no surprise as quinces are beautifully fragrant with floral perfumes of vanilla and citrus and when cooked, turn from a fleshy cream to a rose pink. You might think, if they are so enticing, why can’t I find them anywhere? Well, here lies the catch. Unlike biting into a juicy apple, this fruit is astringent and woody if eaten raw. It craves slow cooking to develop in flavour and looks. In the modern world, time isn’t always on our sides and our ever growing need for instant gratification has caused this fruit to somewhat go out of fashion. 

From 1st Dibs 

The earliest known quinces can be traced back to the ancient Greeks where they were grown at the foothills of the Caucasus mountains. In texts and sculptures, Aphrodite is often depicted holding this fruit, suggesting it was an emblem of love and happiness to the Greek gods. This ensured its place at marriage ceremonies and as a symbol of status thereafter. This symbolism can also be traced back to Europe in the 19th century, notably in Edward Lear’s famous poem, The Owl and the Pussycat. Here Lear details the two animals feasting on quince at their marriage ceremony.

They dined on mince and slices of quince 

Which they ate with a runcible spoon; 

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, 

they danced by the light of the moon, 

the moon, the moon, 

They danced by the light of the moon. 

The Owl and The Pussycat, Edward Lear (1870)

Prior to this, quince had been exported from the Mediterranean to England and France, where it was grown extensively. During the Middle Ages, it was particularly favoured because it was easy to preserve and was even thought to protect against the Black Plague. From then on, quince could be found listed as an ingredient in both sweet and savoury recipes but began to fall into decline at the turn of the 20th century. This was because more soft fruit was being grown which was much easier to prepare.

To prepare quince for cooking you need to gently rub away its fur lined exterior and peel off its outer skin. This peel is where we find pectin. Pectin is a complex starch which acts as a thickening agent, very similarly to gelatin. Levels of pectin vary from fruit to fruit but generally speaking, firmer fruits have higher levels of pectin compared to softer fruits. Quince has a very high level of pectin which explains why it is a favoured choice for pastes and jellies. In fact, the Portuguese word ‘marmelo’ (meaning quince) is where the word marmalade derives from. 

Once you have peeled the fruit, it needs to be gently heated in a bath of sugar syrup. During this process you’ll notice the fruit begin to change from cream to pink. This is because the phenolic chemicals (compounds produced by plants to protect themselves against stress and UV radiation) are broken down and converted into anthocyanins (a compound which turns natural pigments in plants a red or purple colour). According to Harold McGee in On Food and Cooking, these anthocyanins act in an opposite way to chlorophyll as they are water-soluble and change colour when heated. Other examples of this are when red cabbage turns blue when cooked. 

Here in Ireland, it seems that in order to source this fruit you need to be lucky enough to have a neighbour growing a tree. Unfortunately, I’m not one of those people and so I had to order in from France. (This is a call out to anyone with an annual glut who would be willing to share the bounty!) Eager to see this colour transformation and eat this fruit, I threw myself straight into it, only to find 3 hours later that my quinces were pale and mushy. I began to ask myself why this happened and decided to test different poaching liquids to see whether this would have an affect on the fruits’ colour change, flavour and texture. I compared four different sugar syrups, a 1:1 (sugar:water), 120g:1L, 230g:1L and 100g sugar:75g honey: 875L. All quinces were poached on a very low gas heat for around 2-3 hours. I found that the syrups higher in sugar were far too sweet for my liking compared with the lower ones, and the syrup that included honey was the most complex and delicious in flavour. They all retained a good texture but again the fruit refused to turn pink. So, if sugar isn’t the problem here, what is? Well, after some more digging, I found that there are a few variables at play here: temperature, time, tannins and material. 

Temperature and time are key to developing the quinces’ colour. To avoid overcooking, it should be kept at around 80-90°C for around 3-4 hours. You should also only use a non-reactive (stainless steel or ceramic) dish or pot. Although these tend to have ‘hot spots’, they don’t interfere with the chemical structure of the food. Finally, the strength of the tannins varies from fruit to fruit and this is what affects its strength in colour. This particular variety could be much lower in tannins than others I have used before, which would explain its lack in ruby redness. Or, if anyone has encountered this problem before I’d love to know your thoughts. 

By all means you can cook quince much faster but you won’t reap quite the same results. So as the nights draw in, why not indulge in this magical, delicious, metamorphosing fruit. 

POACHED QUINCE

2 lemons, juiced

1 lemon, peeled

1 kg quince

875 ml water

100 g organic granulated sugar

1 vanilla pod, deseeded and scraped

75 g honey

Method:

1. Preheat the oven to 90°C. 

2. Prepare a container with enough water to submerge the fruit. Add the lemon juice and lemon peel (quince oxidises quickly so you’ll need to have this ready to go before cutting). 

3. Peel, core and cut the quince into quarters. 

4. Place the quartered quince and its peel in the acidulated water. 

5. Place the water, sugar, honey, vanilla seeds and whole pod into a saucepan on medium heat. Stir until the sugar has dissolved and the liquid is boiling. 

6. Meanwhile, drain the quince peel and add it to the bottom of a non-reactive dish. Cover this with a piece of parchment to prevent it floating around. Alternatively you can place it in a tied muslin cloth. 

7. Drain the quince quarters and place them on top of the parchment. 

8. Once the sugar syrup is boiling.Turn off the heat and carefully pour it into the dish (including the vanilla pods), making sure all the quince is fully submerged with liquid. Cover with a cartouche and then with foil. 

9. Cook for 3-4 hours until soft. 

10. Once cool, discard any peel and keep the poached fruit stored in its poaching liquid in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.

11. Keep your poaching liquid for the next batch to enhance the flavour and colour. 

Suggested Quince Recipes 

• Membrillo

• Upside Down Quince Cake

• Quince Custard Ice Cream

• Quince Crumble

• Lamb & Quince Tagine 

• Poached Quince and Porridge