Being a rare fruit I would have thought that a quince would be grateful when somebody bought it and allowed that person to enjoy its flavour with ease. For something so elusive it puts up a pretty good battle when you want to get into it. You wouldn't have thought so by looking at it; a curious undulating shape and light brown fuzz all over it looks like a right cutie. The glorious smell entices you in and before you know it you've picked up
Pastry has to be, without doubt, the best cradle, blanket or hat for any rich, sumptuous bed of fruit, meat or vegetables. It is that crunch, that warmth and that way it crumbles which makes it just so. I thought of pastry as my nemesis. Stupid stuff that was invariably delicious when prepared by anyone but myself. All this was to change when I met Jane.
Where a few months ago a slice of lemon drizzle cake or a blueberry muffin would have cheered up my lunchbox I needed something more substantial, more buttery and more comforting. All this snow has meant I've been raiding the cupboards and I found jars and bottles full of stuff that really I'm never going to use. I also figured if any of my nearest and dearest know me, I'll be getting many more jars of treats on the 25th.
The quince used to be a hidden fruit. It seems it was embarrassed of its furry skin, ever varying sizes and odd looks. I had heard rumours of it returning to its former glory and I kept my eyes peeled and nostrils ready for a sight or a whiff of this mysterious fruit.
I found it. If you have not ever been lucky enough to encounter the quince then scrap any plans this weekend and go and hunt some down. It looks like a pear, is tough like a pumpkin,