Kitchen Project #119: Everything Quince
Jam, jelly, pie, pickle, stew. Choose your own adventure!
Hello,
Welcome to today’s edition of Kitchen Projects. It’s so lovely to have you here.
Today we are doing an ingredient spotlight on the great joys beginning in deep autumn: QUINCE! If aren’t already a fan, I’m excited to show you this ruby-red world along with a series of new recipes (it’s ten and counting…) to inspire you with the help of some excellent guest writers. From pickles to jams, jellies to pies, cakes to stews, if you can think it, you can quince it! Some of these recipes are available exclusively to KP+.
What’s KP+? Well, it’s the level-up version of this newsletter. By joining KP+, you will support the writing and research that goes into the newsletter (including the commissioning - and fair payment - of all the writers), join a growing community, access extra content (inc., the entire archive) and more. Subscribing is easy and only costs £5 per month. Why not give it a go? Come and join the gang!
Love,
Nicola
In case you missed it: I’ve written a book!
Earlier this week I had the absolute pleasure of announcing what I’ve been working on for the last year and a half. Meet SIFT: The Elements of Great Baking out next May and is available to pre-order now.
Let me start by saying thank you all SO MUCH for helping make such a splash on announcement day. I was completely blown away. Thanks to you, the book soared up the release charts - I was literally speechless. Knowing you are excited makes me happier than anything.
Encouraging pre-orders is such a curious part of the book process and I’m feel so lucky that you are all excited about the book; It’s honestly so heart warming to have a brilliant, pastry loving community and I can’t WAIT to show you more BTS bits and organise lots of events for the release where we can meet and eat cake together (special KP+ launch party? I THINK SO!). For anyone not in the UK, I’ll hopefully have more info soon, too. Thank you so much for your support!
What’s in SIFT?
Across 350 pages, I'll guide you through the fundamentals of baking and pastry through in-depth reference sections and well over 100 tried & tested recipes with stunning photography and incredible design. SIFT is the book I wish I'd had when I first started baking - I was intimidated by the tomes aimed at professionals, but wanted more detail than some of the home baking books offered. In SIFT, I’ve strived to create a happy medium, blending all the technical details with base recipes you can go back to again and again. I’m confident you’ll love what we’ve made and I hope you’ll consider pre-ordering.
What’s the deal with pre-ordering?
I'm sure you've heard this before, but pre-orders are a huge part of what makes a book successful. If there's strong pre-orders, the bookshops are like ‘ooooh what’s this?’ and then they get excited, which is always a good thing! Annnd, btw, you don’t get charged for the book until it’s actually out, so basically you’re just putting your hand up and saying ‘This looks fab! I’d like this please!’ and you’re always guaranteed to get the absolute best price for it.
All about quince
(aka the quince-essentials)
I'm actually quite good at admitting when I'm wrong. And one thing I've been alarmingly wrong about for most of my life is quince, a fruit that always seems on the fringes of the mainstream.
To me, quince was always a novelty fruit. I'd filed it under 'too faffy' and had deemed it too much hard work to bother to get to know. And anyway, who can even find quinces? What's the point of falling for a fruit that doesn't even show up in the shops half the time? As legendary food writer Jane Grigson said in 1982, "You have to buy what you can find and be thankful." Not much has changed.
But then I had an epiphany. To me, there's nothing greater than the anticipation of the arrival of my favourite fruits or vegetables. I feel genuinely giddy when the Indian mango WhatsApp dealers start popping up come May, or seeing the flash of pale pink forced Yorkshire rhubarb in January, or the taste of the summer's first really actually good British strawberry (admittedly I spent this year waiting and waiting for one which never came…).
So opening my heart to prime seasonal fruit can only be a good thing, even if they are hard to find. After my dalliance with quince in 2022, I've added it to the list of my most-desired, and found myself walking into every grocer and near enough begging them for quince as soon as the leaves started to curl. When the first of the gorgeously knobbled British quince finally appeared, all felt well.
While the deep-hued preserved quince paste 'membrillo' is readily available throughout the year, catching a glimpse of the whole fruit is exciting. If you've never seen a quince before, my description might put you off: Irregular in shape with unpredictable lumps and bumps, yellow, spotty and sometimes a bit furry. The quince grown in warmer climates, like Turkey, tends to have more visual appeal with smooth skin and a predictable Rubenesque shape. Incredibly high in pectin and favoured for its supreme jam and jelly-making abilities, and also loved for its heady fragrance, quince is a treat to have at home. Resplendent in their pudginess and ability to scent an entire room, they are incredibly versatile fruits.
Today, I'm going to show you all the ways you can use your quince: From the classic jams, pastes and jellies to pies, to tart tatin, to cake, to pickles to stews, strap yourself in (or actually, go to the shops and secure a bounty!). If you are already a member of the Quince fan club, then consider this newsletter an ultimate co-signed love letter. And if you're quince-sceptical or unsure where you'd find one, hang in there! Your world might be about to change.
So… what are quinces? How do I eat them?
Quince is a tree fruit often described as being somewhere between an apple and a pear. But pluck a quince from a tree and bite into it expecting an apple or pear, and you'll be in for a surprise. Shockingly astringent compared to its gorgeous fragrance, it's understandable that people might be unsure about giving quince a second chance. But in the same way, we are willing to give tart rhubarb much love and patience to coax out the best of its flavour, quince also needs a helping hand.
Quince can, of course, be enjoyed raw; I've heard plenty of reports of quince sliced thinly and finished with a squeeze of lemon juice and salt or the practice of lightly bruising the quince before eating (either by smashing it against the table or putting it into a bag and knocking it about) to release the sweet juices.
The success of this possibly relies on the variety of the quince. This way of eating the fruit seems to be favoured in the Middle East, and it's possible that the fruit grown there in the warm climate, rather than the hardier varieties that thrive in the UK, are more palatable.
Even after a good bashing, British orchard-grown fruit tends to be so intense and tannic that your mouth immediately dries when eating it raw (full disclosure, I've become so obsessed with quince that I'll happily bite into even the most astringent fruit and, as Jane Grigson told me, feel thankful)
A little history
Loving quince is nothing new; in fact, you join the ranks of historical and mythical figures by getting on board. In ancient Greece, quinces were known to be sacred to Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love and fertility, and it's thought that it may have actually been a quince on the infamous Tree of Wisdom in the Garden of Eden (Eve, I get it completely. I'd have done the same for a quince). It makes sense, then, that quinces are also referred to as 'golden apples.'
The quince can be traced back to ancient Babylon, where it was known and loved for its scent and medicinal qualities. However, it is thought they originated in the foothills of the Caucasus Mountains. There's evidence of their use in Persian cooking for over two millennia, but their first official UK appearance was in the 13th century. This was thanks to King Edward I, who planted several at the Tower of London. After that, quince mania hit England: In artworks, cookery books, dining tables, and ceremonial customs, quince was everywhere. My first interaction with quince was almost certainly in Edward Lear's 1870 poem 'The Owl and the Pussycat', where our two leads famously 'dined on mince and slices of quince.' Romance at its finest.
The quince also had more practical uses - Victorian household manuals suggest storing quince with freshly laundered clothes. I'm struggling to find the source, but I'm sure I read somewhere that quince were often thrown on the ground to help scent homes. I have yet to try this (I prefer a big bowl for a proud display), but I'm definitely on board.
The deal with the colour
Quince is a chameleon - quick to oxidise; the pale flesh will turn brown quickly when exposed to air. But cooked thoroughly, it will turn a deep shade of ruby red. Though I've seen the dark purple hues of membrillo, it's extraordinary to see it for yourself. That was the point of no return for my love for Quince. Often in baking, I find it's the pure act of transformation that intoxicates me the most, and quince does it so tremendously. Oh, and by the way, though many recipes warn you to be extra quick when working with quince because of oxidation browning, I find that this browning doesn’t matter too much in long cook recipes - the bark is certainly worse than the bite.
Where to find them?
My best quince glut this year was from a friendly neighbour. I'd been watching their tree grow for the last few months and managed to time my knock at the door incredibly well - just that morning, they'd had someone over to pick the tree, and they had bags of fruit they were more than happy to part with. The best chance of getting a British quince is from a more inspired fruit or farm shop in October and early November.
But the most reliable source will always be from the Turkish supermarkets. It's almost a guarantee - my friend Jordon, who shares his recipe for braised lamb and quince below, was in the depths of Suffolk and had success in the local Turkish supermarket! Usually readily available from September through to Spring, you can stock up.
How to store them
So you've managed to track down and secure some quince. Now what? If you're not ready to cook with them, using them to scent your room is a good bet, and unbruised fruit will last weeks at room temperature and months in a cool place. Like the best of us, quinces are a bit on the sensitive side - if they get damaged or bruised in transit, they will spoil quickly. And, being the empaths that they are, will tend to spread this damage among their brothers and sisters if not separated from the pack. Blemished quince needs to be used immediately. Let me show you how.
How to use quinces / The quince index
One of the biggest issues I had with getting on with quince was not knowing what to do with them. Today I hope to provide you with an antidote to that concern: Welcome to the quince index!
Below, you'll find a plethora of recipes, ideas and ways to use the quince, from pickles to jam, pies to stews, cakes to tartes. Some of these recipes are only available for KP+ (Click here to become a member!) Due to length restrictions and future searchability, I’ve made each recipe it’s own page which you can access after each intro.
There are a few universal rules: Be careful when removing the knobbly core, as these little lumps may come back to bite you later and save all peels and scraps to make Camilla’s scrap jelly! Don’t you throw them away! One of the simplest ways to incorporate a quince into your already familiar bakes is to add it grated or in thin slices to any recipe that calls for apples and pears. The quince will impart a fuller, more fragrant flavour into the whole mix and is a great way to begin your love affair.
Poaching
Poaching quinces is one of the most impressive and enjoyable ways to enjoy the fruit, especially since it’s one of the best ways to watch the colour transformation from a creamy pale to a (sometimes) deep ruby red with dense but yielding flesh. This impressive colour change is all down to the tannins in the quince. Yes, tannins! The same you find in wine. As the tannins break down, a pigment called anthocyanin is formed and released. This compound is water soluble - it leaks into the water, and the quinces change shade as a result
Though I have my go-to poaching method (with my preferred ratio of 60g sugar per 100ml liquid) I wanted to test the boundaries of cooking quince. As I understand it, you need heat, acidity and sugar to get the best colour. But what is the limit of this? And what is the timeline of that transformation?
Sugar vs. No sugar
Cooked for the same length of time, the quince poached in lemon juice water vs. the quince poached in sugar syrup was barely coloured. My theory is that sugar, being highly hygroscopic, expedites the formation of anthocyanins - the sugar draws the water and compounds out of the quince and the process speeds up. The next day, I cooked another batch of quince in water with relatively high heat - an assertive simmer rather than a slow poach - and after 6 hours (with lots of topping up of water) and no acid, plus an overnight rest, I was finally able to achieve a darker red colour. Though it isn’t fully comparable to the sugar syrup version, it’s definitely pigmented.
So what’s the answer? With enough time and heat, the quince will change colour. But you might need to overcook the fruit to achieve this. This is likely why quince in savoury braises (see Jordon’s recipe below) and in my quick-cook tatin tend to stay a pale colour, while jellies, jams and pastes, especially in large batches, tend to achieve darker ruby-like colours. The quince cooked in sugar syrup also tends to shrink slightly as it exchanges water with syrup.
The amount of sugar is really up to you and will depend on what you want to use the quinces for - edge toward a 1:1 sugar water ratio and you’re closer to candying, though a long lidless poach in the oven at a lower ratio will semi candy your quince as the water evaporates and the sugar concentrates. For use in crumbles, I’d suggest a lower sugar ratio, but for decorating cakes, you might want to get closer to that 1:1 ratio.
Acidity
Surprisingly, the quince poached in an acid-less syrup was… gorgeous? Red? Unaffected? Excuse me?! It had a better flavour, but looks-wise, it turns out all you really need is time. Quince, I'm afraid, can’t be rushed.
A note on poaching
While I’ve outlined my favourite no-effort poaching method here, you can also poach in the oven. Bring a sugar syrup, with your chosen concentration of sugar, to the boil with a little lemon juice and add in the peeled and cored quinces. Boil for 5 minutes then move into an oven at 120c fan and cook, covered for at least 4-5 hours.
If you want to semi candy the fruit, you can cook in the oven with just a little greaseproof paper on top (a cartouche) to help keep the fruit submerged, but allowing steam to escape. The water will reduce and the fruit will become plump with sugar syrup. In this case, you do need to be careful to turn the fruit occasionally to prevent any dried out spots.
How to use them?
Poached quince can be incorporated into a number of recipes as below, used for decoration on cakes or simply enjoyed with thick greek yoghurt, or on top of your morning porridge. It also works well into a crumble - nestled under your favourite crumble topping, it’s a glorious surprise to dig through buttery oats and find rubies.
What about the poaching liquid?
The resulting poaching liquid can be used for lots of things - on the simple side, it makes a beautiful cordial base which you could make into autumnal cocktails. You could also set it into jelly with agar agar or powdered pectin, or make it into actual jellies - imagine a quince trifle! - with gelatin. I’ve reason to believe you could also make a sorbet or granita from it - i’ll update you on that soon.
Jamming and Jellying
The most traditional way to enjoy quince is in the form of preserves. From gorgeously pink transparent and wibbly jellies to the dense membrillo paste squished onto cheese, quince lends itself incredibly well to preserving. This is, in part, due to its incredibly high level of pectin meaning it sets like a dream with impressive dependability.
We also have quince to thank for Marmalade, or at least the name. The portuguese word for quince is ‘marmelo’ and, when it made its way to Britain in the 16th century, it was known as ‘marmelada’, a name which soon became ‘marmalade’. And for a few centuries here, marmalade meant a quince preserve, not citrus, though this distinction later became clear. This intriguing etymology explains why the word ‘mermelada’, ‘marmelada’ and ‘marmelatta’ in Spanish, Portugese and Italian respectively, refer to all jams, rather than just the citrus spread that we’re used to.
The recipes
I’m thrilled to have a selection of preserves for you to try your hand at here on Kitchen Projects, including the most gorgeous recipe and story from KP+ community recipes - shout out Shadie - along with two recipes from our resident preserver Camilla Wynne. Follow the links below for the recipes:
Quince scrap jelly by Camilla Wynne
Quince Jam by Camilla Wynne
Tayta’s Quince Jam by Shadie Chahine
Make a paste
When I was researching quince pastes (also known as quince cheese) - and there are a lot of recipes out there - I was surprised at just how many steps there are. They also mostly used 1:1 sugar which, for me, is a bit too sweet. As well as this, most recipes ask you to boil quince in water then DITCH ALL THE WATER (???????) - why on earth would anyone ever suggest this?! A lot of pectin is infused into that water and casting it aside seems foolish if making a thick set jelly is the goal.
In the recipe below, I’ve streamlined the process and this one-pot method is VERY satisfying. Anything without extra dishes, I’m on board.
Eat it in pastry
Sure you could dip your toe into the world of quince by simply grating one into your usual apple pie, but what about letting quince be the star of the show? When it comes to quince, you have a few options. You can either pre-cook the quince and incorporate directly into tarts and pies, or you can cook the quince as part of the pie-cooking process. This week I’m sharing versions with both, raw in the tarte tatin, and poached in a very delicious quince and cheese pie.
Quince and cheese pie
When developing a pie recipe for my pie pop-up last month, I knew I wanted to do something that blended two of my great loves together - quince and cheese (in some form). I had thought about taking inspiration from the Cuban guava cream cheese pastelitos, but decided to go for something that tows the line between sweet and savoury. This is an alternative cheeseboard wrapped up in a pie and it is particularly good with a spoon of wobbly quince jelly.
Pickle it
I’m very excited to have a new guest writer join us. Meet Fiona Cranston aka Cranston Pickles. I’ve loved Fiona’s work (mainly from afar) and I’m delighted that she is sharing her recipe for this gorgeous pickled quince today on the newsletter.
Cake it
Poached quinces can, of course, be laid on top of any cake as beautiful decor, or you could use the jam to sandwich any of your favourites together. But I have a fixation on grated orchard fruit. I’m not sure why, but I think my lack of love for carrot cake (sorry, it’s just not my go-to) has left a hole in my repertoire that I constantly try to polyfilla with grated apples or, as in this week, grated quince. The resulting cake is a gorgeously damp and beautifully spiced cake, extra tender with the help of grated fruit. Finishing it off with generous swipes of cream cheese frosting and toasted nuts does elevate this cake, though it would be just as nice undecorated and with a spoon of creme fraiche.
Put it in a stew
The combination of fruit and meat is a long held tradition and not celebrated enough. Sure, you might swipe a sunday roast through apple sauce, or enjoy a blackberry sauce with game meats, but slowly cooking fruit and meats together is a thing of beauty, melding together the natural sweetness and depth in flavour of both. Quince is particularly prevalent in tagines, along with heady spices. This week, I’m thrilled to share a beautiful recipe for braised lamb with quince by Jordon King, a brilliant chef and writer based in London. He is the author of Start by Chopping your onion and is tremendous with flavour.
The quincess has spoken!!! 👑🍐
I feel so seen. Finally, someone who shares my passion for quince. I make membrillo and jelly (plus a dozen other things) each year. I found a fantastic orchard in Wisconsin that grows a few varieties. They grow so little that I’m hesitant to share my source with anyone. Thanks for this piece, Nicola!