Quince Preserves
The preserves the world wishes it deserved.
The first time I brought up the subject of quince among my friends, they seemed uncomfortable. Apparently they thought it had something to do with someone’s nether-region.
“Quince jam”, even worse. They were pretty sure it was an STD.
Then I bought some quince and made some of this quince preserve. And it made them forget their nether-regions entirely. It’s that good. I take no credit for this. All the credit goes to the weird anomaly of creation known as the quince.
The quince looks like an apple and a pear had a night of drug-fueled passion and this was their strange mutant love-child. Weirdly lumpy. Never symmetric. Ah, but now give it whiff. It smells like apple and pear and tiare blossoms and honey and some perfume you definitely can’t afford.
I have stood in grocery stores with my nose jammed in this fruit for such extended periods of time that people kept a six foot radius - and this was years before any God-damned pandemic. Produce guys in their little green smocks gave me the side-eye. They may or may not have asked me to leave. Fuck ‘em. This shit’s amazing.
Look for quince in October through December in your fancier grocery stores. Stick your nose in them right there in the store…I KNOW, RIGHT??? Now take them home. Brace yourself. You will cut one open…or try to, and be like: “What the hell??? Is it…not finished yet?”
Oh no, my precious one. It’s finished, alright. This is God’s two-part joke on us. Part one: he makes it smell that good and yet in this state it is completely inedible. Part two is the joke on all those poor suckers that threw it out at that point and didn’t bother to cook it.
Aren’t you glad you have me prevent that terrible mistake?
You cook these bastard love-children and they transform into a rose-colored, honey-scented concoction that dares us to define it, that defies reason, that belongs on homemade sourdough toast with the best butter that you can possibly afford, that needs to be IN MY MOUTH RIGHT NOW.
Moving on.
I wish I could tell you that making jam were easy. I wish I could tell you that life was fair, that all stories had happy endings…but that shit just ain’t the truth and you and I both know it. Jam relies on a chemical reaction between sugar and pectin and acid. Luckily for you, quince has a lot of pectin. You’ll add acid with the lemon juice. After that, it’s a matter of making the chemistry happen.
I know, you’e thinking, “The apple and the pear made it happen, how hard could chemistry be?” Well, it’s sorta hard.
You have to cook this concoction down until the sugar is concentrated enough that everything sets once cooled. There are various methods to measure the cooking time, and you can ask Mr. Google about all of them: the frozen plate method, the thermometer method, the “whatever the fuck let’s just see what happens” method. Generally, I do all of the above, average the results, and that’s when I take it off the heat and ladle into jars. You’ll just have to figure out what works for you.
Make this. I beg you. That’s all.
Shit You Need
3 pounds of quince
6 1/2 cups water
5 cups sugar
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped, seeds reserved
15 cardamom pods, crushed
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 Tbs lemon zest
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
Wash, peel, and core the quince, reserving the peels and cores. Peels and cores are a repository of the magical pectin that will help the preserves set.
Chop the flesh of the quince into fine dice (my preference, which is what matters) and add to a large stockpot with the water.
Place reserved quince peels and cores, scraped vanilla pod, and crushed cardamom into a large square of doubled cheesecloth and tie closed. Add to the pot.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer 20 minutes, until quince is soft. Smell the aromas. try not to weep from the sheer beauty of it.
This is a great time to sterilize your jars and lids. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the aromas.
Add sugar and vanilla seeds to the quince mixture and bring to a boil again. Stir to dissolve the sugar. Reduce heat to medium high and cook, uncovered, 30-50 minutes, until preserves are pink in color and syrupy. Add lemon juice and zest and cook another 10 minutes.
Watch closely at this point. This shit can go from pancake syrup to a block of cheese in the space of 5 minutes flat. Do the freezer plate thing or check the temp. When it reaches 220 degrees Farenheit (or you have wrinkles on you freezer plate, see Google) turn off the heat and ladle into your sterilized jars.
Wipe rims with a damp paper towel, add lids, and finger tighten bands. Leave to cool, undisturbed overnight. Sorry to be so serious, but this is serious shit. I don’t wan’t anyone getting some horrible disease because they thought I was kidding about any of this.
If the jam fairy (and the no-botulism fairy) both smile on you, the lids will suck down with a satisfying pop, ensuring that you have a good, uncontaminated seal, and will have jaw-droppingly awesome quince jam for the next year or until you run out, whichever comes first. Spoiler alert: you’ll run out.
