Quince

Whenever I visit Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, I always look forward to the ice creams in the main square. During my last visit, as I waited for the crowds to diminish at noontime so that I could interview Amparo Contreras de Galván with my childhood friend Martha Silva, I had a couple of scoops of sorbet. I tend to order the same ones wherever I go, but the membrillo one at La Pancada caught my eye. As I took a bite, without even swallowing it, I knew it had to be in the book. Although the famous ice creams in the town are called pastes, I have to say, this was the one for me. Whenever something so special comes my way, I remember it vividly, taking mental notes of each layer of flavor and texture that at times allows me to re-create things I love so much. I must say, this quince sorbet is pretty close to the one I had. I suggest you make a batch of the Requesón Cheese Ice Cream (page 185) to go with it, in the classic pairing of cheese and quince but in a whole new way.

Ates are fruit pastes made from cooked fruit and sugar, a method that was brought by the Spaniards by way of the Arabs. In the old days, the word ate was put at the end of the main ingredient, such as mangate (mango paste), perate (pear paste), or membrillate (quince paste). Ates are cooked down in copper or heavy pots, and once cooled they are cut up into slices. The more the mixture cooks, the firmer it will be. They are sold in many markets by weight and are also cut into small cubes, tossed in sugar, and then sold in baskets of assorted flavors and colors. Known as ates in the majority of the country, they are also called cajetas (not to be confused with the caramel sauce) in some of the northern states. Quince ate is one of the most common flavors because of its high pectin content, and it is definitely my favorite. Ate can last for a long time (up to two years!). Be sure to serve it with some kind of semifirm cheese that isn’t too salty (it is commonly served with Manchego).

Quince smells wonderful, like a pear with notes of citrus. But resist tasting the raw fruit—it is highly tannic until cooked through. Quince require a long cooking time to soften to the point of being edible, and a sharp knife is needed for slicing through their hard flesh, but their delicate flavor is worth the wait and the work. Quince grows in much of the United States—I’ve even picked some in Central Park—and they are sold at many markets throughout the winter. Serve this dessert on its own or with vanilla ice cream and the easy crunch topping from the Pear Kanten with Pecan Crunch (page 101).

This is one of the most beautiful marmalades I know of. As the delicate shreds of quince cook, they turn brilliant red and intensify in color as the fruit reduces to a fragrant, shimmering jelly. This preserve is terrific at breakfast or as a filling for Easy Marmalade Tart (page 93). It’s also great paired with slices of Manchego or Cheddar cheese, served with a glass of sherry. This marmalade was inspired by a recipe from Helen Witty’s book Fancy Pantry.

With all the recent interest in Spanish cuisine, it’s no surprise that membrillo—Spanish quince paste—has become a global hit. Anyone who has tasted it paired with Manchego cheese and a glass of sherry understands why it’s become so popular the world over. But that popularity doesn’t come easy: it takes at least 30 minutes of almost-constant stirring to make quince paste. I always wear an oven mitt while stirring with a wooden spatula because the hot mixture occasionally pops and sputters as it thickens.

I once found a long-forgotten jar of homemade quince marmalade in the back of my refrigerator. Rather than throw it out, I took it with me to a friend’s house out in the country with the hope that one morning I could slip it onto the breakfast table and no one would be the wiser. But I was so mesmerized by the gorgeous rosy hue of the quince preserves that, instead, I used the marmalade as a filling for this amazingly easy-to-make jam tart. The tart is easy for a couple of reasons. The first is that there is no filling to make or fruit to cut up—any type of thick jam or marmalade, homemade or otherwise, is all you’ll need. The second is that the dough doesn’t require rolling: two-thirds of it is pressed into the tart pan, and the rest is formed into a log, sliced like refrigerator cookie dough, then layered onto the tart to create the top crust. Truly a piece of cake to make, this tart serves as a wonderful breakfast pastry. In the end, the marmalade did indeed make an early (well, not too early) morning appearance on the table, and I didn’t have to be sneaky about it.

I love a good, classic version of tarte Tatin, the famed French caramelized-apple tart, as much as the next guy—probably even more. But adding slices of quince makes this variation extra inviting to me. If you’re unfamiliar with quince, a cousin of the apple, it’s likely because they’re inedible in their raw state, so they tend to get neglected by folks who don’t know about the seductive, beguiling flavor that’s coaxed out of them by cooking. Like apples, quince are in season in the fall, and they’re easy to find by following your nose; when they’re ripe, their scent is rather intoxicating. I often keep a bowl of them on my dining table to perfume my entire apartment.

Quinoa (pronounced KEEN-wah) was an ancient staple grain of the Incas. It’s a complete protein with all essential amino acids and more calcium than milk, along with iron, phosphorus, and vitamins B and E. Use it as a grain and substitute freely for rice or pasta. Just be sure to maintain the proper ratio of dry grain to liquid (for quinoa use 3/4 cup quinoa to 1 cup liquid). I buy quinoa from the bulk food bins at the health food store, although you can find it at many supermarkets alongside the grains. Raw seafood is always preferable when making a Glorious One-Pot Meal, and frozen shellfish is less likely to overcook in this method. I keep a bag of uncooked shrimp in my freezer for just such a reason.

The trick to cooking quinces is to maintain their fragrance and delicate flavor while you coax them into tenderness. Gentle poaching is an ideal way to achieve this goal. Use poached quinces interchangeably with poached pears. They’re great with chocolate, with cheese, or with walnuts and arugula as a salad. If you’ve saved vanilla pods from other recipes, use them here in place of fresh beans.

I really like the combinations of flavors and textures that result when soft-curd cheeses are served with poached fruit. In this dessert, I add to that by layering on an icy granité and a crisp cracker. I’m not giving you a yield here, since this is more of a combination of flavors than anything, and you can make as many as you like.

While her husband was on a fall Sunday ramble with friends, Anne-Juliette Belicha gave me a cooking lesson in their fifteenth-century house overlooking the fields in the Dordogne countryside. The house is located on the outskirts of Montagnac, right near the caves of Lascaux, renowned for their prehistoric animal paintings. In the kitchen hang photos of the woman who owned the house at the turn of the century, who tended geese for foie gras and to provide goose fat for the winter. Because quinces were in season, Anne-Juliette decided to cook us one of her Algerian husband’s beloved Rosh Hashanah dishes, from a book that is also one of my favorites—150 Recettes et Mille et Un Souvenirs d’une Juive d’Algerie by Léone Jaffin. The quince, believed to be the Biblical “apple” of the Garden of Eden by some scholars, is a complex fruit. Hard to peel and quarter, quinces require careful handling. Once peeled, they darken rather quickly, so you need to keep them in water mixed with a little lemon juice. Anne-Juliette picked the quinces from a friend’s tree and used an old variety of onions—a cross between onions and shallots—that she bought at a nearby farmers’ market. As she cooked, first frying the onions and then the kosher chickens that she buys in Paris, she told us about her dream: to open a kosher bed-and-breakfast in the Dordogne.

We start getting large quinces from Cyprus at the beginning of October, and later in the year smaller ones arrive from Iran and Turkey. I buy them as soon as I see them, and they last a pretty long time without going bad. Their heavenly scent pervades the whole house. In America they are available in the fall in farmers’ markets.

You will find quinces in Middle Eastern grocers from October until February and longer. Large ones can weigh as much as 1 pound. Try the variation too. I love it.

Tunisia is famous for fish couscous. This uncommon one is elegant and aromatic, with the mingled scents of saffron and quince. Have the fish cleaned and left whole. It is usually steamed in a separate steamer, but it is better to bake it in foil in the oven, which is a way of steaming it.

This is exquisite and also very easy. The quinces are hard and take a long time to cook before you can even cut them up and stuff them, but you can bake them hours—even a day—in advance. I use very large quinces, weighing a pound each. Serve as a hot first course.

This is a Moroccan version of a dish you find in many Middle Eastern countries. Serve with bread.

On a visit to Egypt, a hostess who invited me for dinner told us how she had run after the ducks that had escaped as she carried them home. There are many dishes of duck and chicken with quince in the Arab world. This one has the flavors of Morocco. The quince slices acquire a wonderful caramelized taste when they are fried.

Tunisia is famous for her fish dishes and her fish couscous. Here is one of the prestigious dishes which can be served with couscous. Prepare couscous as in the recipe on page 375 so that it is ready at the same time.

I love these roast quinces even more than the famous quinces in syrup that I have written about in other books, because here the fruits keep their natural and unique taste and perfume. Quinces can be small like an apple, and they can be huge and weigh up to 1 pound each. You need about 1/2 pound per person so a large one is enough for two. Cooking times vary depending on their size and degree of ripeness. Quinces are available in farmers’ markets and in Middle Eastern stores. Kaymak (see page 218) is the cream served with it in Turkey, but clotted cream or mascarpone will do very well.

This is truly exquisite. Quinces are now available for quite a long period in Middle Eastern and Asian stores. In this recipe, the fruits are stuffed with a meat filling and served hot. Quinces are hard and take a long time to cook in the oven before you can cut them up and stuff them, but you can do this in advance—even the day before. I used very large quinces because those were the ones available at the time, but you can use 4 smaller ones, in which case the baking time will be less. Serve hot with rice pilaf (page 193) or rice with chickpeas (Variation page 193).