How to Make Quince Cheese

Thanks to Fiona Lucas of the Culinary Historians of Canada, I have been reading about "bimbriyo", described in the article "Tante Stella's Quince Sweetmeat" by Audrey Levy as "a very stiff jelly of mysterious deep rose-brown hue" (Petits Propos Culinaries 82, Prospect Books, January 2007). This substance, as Levy explains, is known as bimbriyo among Sephardic Jews, as cotognata in Sicily, as cotignac in France, as membrillo in Spanish-speaking countries, as kythonpasto in Greece, as chabush in Israel, and simply as quince cheese to many English speakers.

The quince (illustrated above, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons) is known in Latin as the Cydonian apple, and was sacred to the love goddess Venus. But it hardly lives up to its sexy reputation on first sight. Quinces look rather like underripe pears, and are too hard, woody and bitter to eat out of hand.

In fact, when a mysterious bag of them appeared on my front steps last summer, I didn't know what they were, but – after some research, and knowing they're rich in pectin – I managed to develop a recipe for quince butter that's going to appear in my book. Now I've learned that, apart from being good as a thick spread, this quince butter can be set out to dry in a layer to make the aforementioned bimbriyo.

And wow, what a taste! It's like the best version of a sour candy that you can imagine: packed with flavour and with a tangy bite of fruity sourness at the end. It's great with pork and delicious with cheese. I have been blissing out combining it on a thick round rye crisp with some of this young soft white Figaro from Glengarry Fine Cheese in Lancaster, Ontario (to which I have been introduced by the fine folks at the Dairy Farmers of Canada).

It's a while until quince season, but I strongly suggest you find a tree and try to make some next summer. Or bug me for some at the Culinary Historians' Mad for Marmalade day on February 19 at Fort York... but I may end up hoarding most of it for myself!

Quince Butter for Cheese
Makes 4½ cups

This is more or less the recipe that I wrote for my upcoming book.

• 3½ lbs quinces
• 4 cups water
• 4½ cups sugar
• 3 tbsp lemon or lime juice
• ½ tsp cardamom (optional)

1. Wash the quinces, quarter them and remove the seeds and stems (don’t worry about removing the hard shell that encases the seeds.)
2. In a wide, deep non-reactive pot with a thick bottom, combine fruit and water. Boil for 10 minutes, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, until the mixture resembles the consistency of pea soup (about 25 minutes).
3. Run the mixture through a sieve or food mill and return it to the pot. Add the rest of the ingredients, stirring well until the sugar dissolves completely.
4. Boil on medium heat until the mixture thickens to the point where you can draw a spoon through it without seeing water seep from the sides (about 30-45 minutes). The mixture should turn quite dark red or red-brown. Be very careful, because the mixture will spit a lot. If you have glasses, wear them; long sleeves and an apron are also a good idea.*

At this point you may either ladle into sterilized jars and process for 10 minutes at a rolling boil (15 minutes for pint/500 mL jars), or spread the pastelike mixture into a shallow pan lined with waxed or parchment paper. It will take several days to dry; you may speed up the drying process by baking it in a very slow oven (150-200 degrees).

*When I read Levy's piece, I was amused to note that my observation about the spitting was borne out by her 92-year-old Tante Stella, who advised her to "wear rubber gloves, since as the water evaporates, the bubbles splutter ferociously and the splutter is fiercely hot".

Making Duck Prosciutto for Charcutepalooza

I have never attempted charcuterie before, so I was excited to attempt duck prosciutto for the first month of Charcutepalooza. I acquired a good bit of Ontario duck breast (half a one, really) from an outlet of Rowe Farms near me in Toronto; they specialize in organically raised local produce, including antibiotic-free poultry, and my particular duck came from Everspring Farms near Ilderton, Ontario.

The process is so surprisingly simple (salt for one day, hang for seven) that I found it hard to believe that the meat would undergo much change. However, the salt seems to have completely permeated the entire breast and it's dense, tender and very tasty. An aside: the dry, cool basement of my hundred-year-old house seems to be a good meat-curing zone, happily.

A few observations: I missed the suggestion about scoring the meat until it had already been hung up to dry, and, although it lost precisely the requisite 30% of its weight (from 400 to 280 g), the narrower outer portions seem a little dry, while the thick middle seems a bit moist. It's not bad, but I wonder whether anyone ever pounds a breast before drying it, to make it a more even thickness.

Also, I was pleased to use some of the juniper berries I picked at the cottage last summer. I ground them in a mortar and pestle with the white pepper (which I had to pick out of my jar of cinq poivres; I didn't have a chance to buy any). The berries add a delicious tangy, piney essence to the scent of the meat, though not much flavour, it must be said. (Maybe I might use more berries next time?)

The prosciutto was only ready yesterday, so we've done little with it except nibble. If I come up with a great recipe, I'll post it. I'm pleased to have achieved the first meat project. Onwards to February's challenge!

Artisanal Brewers at Todmorden, Part of Winterlicious 2011

As a board member at Todmorden Mills, I'm helping to organize a new edition of Artisanal Brewers at Todmorden, a beer-and-food pairing evening that's one of the 14 culinary events at Winterlicious. It takes place on Saturday, February 5, 2011, from 7 to 9:30 p.m. at the Papermill Gallery at Todmorden Mills (67 Pottery Road, in the Don Valley just below the intersection of Broadview and Mortimer), which was the site a brewery built in 1821.

For $55+HST, participants will sample their choice of pairings from among the array of artisanal brews with 19th-century or contemporary food pairings. A souvenir tasting glass is included in the price, and representatives from breweries and restaurants will be on hand to talk about what they do.

The food will be provided by a stellar group of Toronto restaurants, cafés and food purveyors, including Culinarium, Matt Kantor of Little Kitchen, Starfish / Ceili Cottage (oysters!), Red Rocket Coffee, L.A.B., Le Petit Dejeuner / Goed Eten (waffles!), Brad Long's soon-to-open B.Long and Grilltime.

One of the other organizers is Mirella Amato of Beerology, so you know the brews will be good ones. Among the confirmed brewers are Black Oak Brewery, Black Creek Brewery, Denison's Brewing Co., Granite Brewery, Mill Street Brewery, Muskoka Cottage Brewery and Wellington Brewery.

Tickets are available by phone at 416-396-2819.

Can I Handle a Year of Meat? Charcutepalooza!

Cathy of Mrs. Wheelbarrow and Kim of The Yummy Mummy are collaborating on a year-long food-blog project called CharcutePalooza, which challenges participants to work their way through Michael Ruhlman's Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing, one recipe a month for a year.

Last year I participated in Tigress' Can Jam, and sailed through the twelve jams and pickles with confidence, since I was working on a book about canning and had to test about 100 recipes in any case. This one will be tougher for me, in part because I'm a semi-vegetarian, in part because it looks to be rather expensive and fussy to source the ingredients, and in part because I don't see myself buying a sausage stuffer and a backyard smoker just to stay in a blog challenge.

But perhaps I am over-anticipating. I already own the book, and the first month's challenge is duck prosciutto, which seems harmless enough. The hardest part may be the shopping, but I've already located Ontario duck breast at my local Rowe Farms, and since Ruhlman indicates that frozen duck will do, I can put off my trip to the waterfront with a bow and arrow.

So I am hesitantly embarking on what may be (as advertised) a Year of Meat, or perhaps just a Month of Duck. Either way, I stand to learn something. Tally ho!