The Quintessential Quince 2: Quince Paste, Jelly, and Pickle

The jelly- the Jam and the marmalade,
And the cherry and quince "preserves'' she made!
And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear,
With cinnamon in 'em, and all things rare--!
And the more we ate was the more to spare,
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!
~ James Whitcomb Riley, Old Aunt Mary's. 

I read an hilarious article the other day that analysed why Gwyneth Paltrow seems to be the celebrity that people love to hate at the moment.  In a nutshell, it's pretty much because she's drop dead beautiful, filthy rich, talented at acting, writes cookbooks, has gorgeous children, famous friends, and a hugely successful business.  It's just so thoroughly unlikable that there is nothing this woman is not good at.    Dreadfully tall poppy I know but there it is.  Us mere mortals have to contend with having lots of things we are not good at.

Of the many things I suck at, singing in particular has never been a strong suit.

As a kid, when I was into tap dancing competitions, there was one routine where I had to sing and dance at the same time.  What I lacked in on tune-ness, I made up for in loudness.  I remember axe-murdering those high notes so loudly and so badly, my dancing teacher had to stifle belly laughs.  Yes, I would've been one of those auditions on the X Factor.

Another thing I've never been good at is jam making. When I got given these gorgeous quinces from Catherine at work, I had imagined spending a sunny afternoon channeling domestic goddesses of old like Old Aunt Mary, lovingly stirring pots of gorgeous ruby red quince paste and jewel-like crystal clear quince jelly.  How it ended up was with me standing over an angry spitting pot of liquid hot quince magma at 2am in the morning that refused to set.  Delicious tasting mind you, but less paste or jelly like and more what you would imagine hot molten lava to look like: a cloudy, lumpy, muddy red gloop. 

{The good quince jelly, the bad quince jelly}

The Quintessential Quince: Maple Chardonnay Slow Roasted Quinces

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 Owl and the Pussy Cat, Edward Lear (1871)

The quince is a quirky little fruit.  

If you haven't experienced quinces before, they are a bit like a cross between a very hard pear and a quava in texture, practically inedible in its raw state but when you cook it for long periods, its white flesh slowly develops a gorgeous ruby red hue that tastes of fragrantly floral tartness. 

I know I'm romanticising them a little but heck I'm not the only one, according to myths, legend and wiki the quince was the fruit given to Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love by Paris the Prince of Troy and ancient Greek brides would nibble on quinces to perfume their breath before entering the bridal chamber.

This quintessential autumnal fruit is rather old-fashioned and these days isn't all that common to come by.  They are rarely seen in supermarkets plus the quince season is quite short. You kinda gotta know people who know people.

Forgive me readers, for I have not posted...

{quince pickle + oxford marmalade}

Forgive me readers, for I have not posted.
It's been 20 days since my last posting...

Peanut butter truffles

Practice is the best of all instructors ~ Publilius Syrus

My dancing instructors used to always drum into us to practise, practise, practise.  Everyone starts off completely rookie but to remember your routine / get down in the splits / perform well in front of an audience / pretty much get good at anything: you have to do it over and over and over again.

Which is all good and dandy when you're talking about whirling around in a sparkly costume but a completely different story when you're learning to put in a cannula.

Today was my very first go at putting in an i.v. line and...well, I wasn't a natural.  I managed to jab myself with a (clean) needle.  Then managed to stab straight through the house surgeon's vein and give him a massive bruise at the back of his hand.  Oh dear.

Surely I can only get better at it right?!?

I know at least that baking definitely gets easier with practice, as does making truffles.  Have made a few different types of truffles over the years: good old ganache truffles, eggnog truffles, raspberry truffles, oreo truffles and most recently these Peanut Butter Truffles.  And it's gone from a stressful messy process to a kinda fun messy process.  One can only hope this medicine thing is similar....

Apricot Cream Cheese Muffins for Dad

The second half of a man’s life is made up of nothing but the habits he has acquired during the first half. ~ Feodor Dostoevski

We are all of us creatures of habit.

I've only recently noticed just how many habits I've collected along the way: how I have coffee in the morning before the cereal, how I always sit on the right-hand side of the bus,  how I check the same websites every morning.

My Dad was no exception.  In fact he could've been the poster boy for habitual living.  We used to go out for lunch as a family every weekend.  For years it was BB's Cafe in Wairau Park.  And every single weekend he would order exactly the same things: a cappuccino in a bowl with chocolate, a ham and cheese croissant (heated) and an Apricot and Cream Cheese Muffin.

We were such regulars, I even ended up working at the place.  And Dad would still come in, every Sunday, for his coffee, croissant, and muffin. 

It's eight years today since he passed away.  And I can still see him sitting there just like it was yesterday, with the paper in one hand and a muffin in the other.  So today, I broke my morning habit to bake Dad's favourite muffins and remember all his quirky habits with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes.

Apricot and Cream Cheese Muffins for my Dad.  I love you.  I miss you so much.  

Resisting the inner fat kid: Roasted Kumara and Almond Salad with Feta and Chickpeas

I have an inner fat kid.

Much like the proverbial angel/devil on one's shoulder, my inner fat kid whispers delicious nothings in my ear:  Go on, eat that whole family sized block of chocolate, you know you want to...

And from time to time, I succumb to its urgings.  Yes, I ate that whole bar of Whittakers Hokey Pokey Chocolate. On my lonesome.  For breakfast. 

What's more, I've found the more you feed the fat kid, the stronger they get.

Like when my two besties came down for a girly catch up weekend a couple weeks back.  It was a glorious weekend of gossip and giggles, wine and cheese and chocolate and churros.  An epic eat-a-thon weekend.

{harbourside markets, wellington, nz}

But, alas when one is knock, knock, knocking on 30s door, one finds that for every binge, there needs to be an equal and opposite detox.  So the plan was to atone my eating sins with exercise and healthy food for a few weeks. 

It was super hard.  Inner fat kid was not happy.  Inner fat kid resisted.  There was a lag period, a struggle for dominance, a battle of the wits with the casualties being a whole pack of hokey pokey flavoured marshmallow easter eggs, another whole packet of pineapple lump easter eggs, half a block of blue cheese, lots of ice cream and half a block of black forest chocolate.  Junk food: why you so tasty??

But eventually I triumphed, with the help of some delish salads like this Roasted Kumara and Almond Salad with Feta and Chickpeas.

New skills and how to pipe two toned frosting swirls

You know, like nunchuck skills, bow hunting skills, computer hacking skills... Girls only want boyfriends who have great skills. ~ Napoleon Dynamite

I'm not sure I've actually done any tutorials on this wee blog yet.  Am just a wee bit skittish about calling this a tutorial as such - "tutorial" implies that you know what you are talking about, and since I don't most of the time let's call this is more of a sharing of a neat trick or a cool new skill I learnt: Two-Toned Frosting Swirls.

And as we all know, mean frosting skills are up there with nunchuck skills. 

Speaking of tutorials and mean skills, we've just had out first week in neurology!  While they haven't let us loose in the hospital quite yet, we've gotten to interview and examine real live patients!  It's been awesome, learnt so much, tried and failed to not gush like a total fangirl watching the consultants do their thing #suchanoob (oh yes I did just hashtag...)

Anyways I digress.

I've ooo'ed and ahhh'd over this gorgeous rose tinted frosting effect for ages but never actually tried it.  Most tutorials I'd looked up on the web called for gel food colouring and I never got around to ordering the stuff online (lazy, I know!).  But then my husband got a job at Colgate Palmolive and I was tasked with making some toothpaste themed baking to celebrate, so with my good old kiwi number 8 wire hat on I nutted out a way of making the effect without forking out for the fancy colouring.

You had me at White Chocolate Raspberry Croissant Pudding

You're terrible, Muriel ~ Joanie, Muriel's Wedding

I love croissant pudding! I love it for the pudding it wants to be. And I love it for the pudding it almost is. ~ Jerry Macguire kind of.

I've been a terrible blogger.  It's been almost a whole month since my last post and that is far far too long!  I apologize unreservedly and to sweeten the deal thought I might share this gorgeously decadent, utterly romantic, perfect for Valentine's Day, dessert with you my lovely readers.   Will you forgive me and be my blogger valentines? Would I have you at White Chocolate Raspberry Croissant Pudding?