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Culture & Artsby Marta Hanson10:13 pmNov 24, 20100

Stalking Baltimore’s quirky quinces

The Baltimore Urban Forager on how to roast, drink and make a tasty spread from these unique fruits.

Above: At Baltimore’s Cylburn Arboretum, most of the quince right now are on the ground.

When apples have become flat . . .  a quince, or even a part of one, in a pie or pudding, will add sharpness.”

1842 J. C. LOUDON Suburban Horticulturist 551

Locally-grown? Oh, that’s so 10 minutes ago. Foraging is apparently the chic theme for Thanksgiving this year. The headlines suddenly are everywhere:

“Try Foraging for Your Thanksgiving Meal” NPR recommends.

“Chefs Look for Wild Ingredients Nobody Else Has” is the feature article, on this Wednesday before Thanksgiving, in the Dining section of The New York Times.

Note how the Homewood (Cydonia Oblonga) quince above differs from the three Cylburn (Pseudo-Cydonia sinensis) fruits below. (Photo by Marta Hanson.)

Note how the Homewood (Cydonia Oblonga) quince above differs from the three Cylburn (Pseudo-Cydonia sinensis) fruits below. (Photo by Marta Hanson.)

You have probably already decided on your menu, or had your Thanksgiving feast by the time you read this, but there may still remain some of the T-day weekend for foraging and feasting. In addition to the Lamb’s Quarters greens, milkweed, hickory nuts, wild onion, sumac berries, juniper berries, lichen, and Russian olive berries that these articles feature, quince are also in season. Many have already fallen on the ground around town.

Indeed, I finally found the quince tree on Homewood campus this fall. More than 20 of the pale yellow fruits, some the size of my two fists pressed together, gave up the goose, or rather the quince.

Just as with the American Persimmon on campus, I had walked under this tree countless times. It even has a metal botanical label announcing it as “Cydonia Oblonga, Quince.” But will I reveal its location in this BUF column?

Nah, I don’t think so. That would deprive you of the pleasure of the hunt. I wouldn’t want to do that. Nor do I wish to worry my colleague any further about the local competition. My next tour of the edible Homewood campus, however, is certain to feature it.  I’ll keep you posted.

There are many other locations and means to acquire quince of your own this holiday weekend in Baltimore. Like ginkgo nuts, Koreans love their quince. They make a lemony-honeyed hot tea called Mogwa-cha (Mugua in Chinese) from the fruit and skins, either dried or boiled in sugar water. Both fresh and processed Mogwa-cha are now available at the large Korean H-mart in Catonsville.

This tea is popularly used in East Asia to treat colds, reduce the symptoms of bronchitis, and calm the stomach. When we were in Korea this past October, there were quince trees all over in the cities and countryside. One very mature tree full of fruit even graced the first hole of a fancy Korean golf course.

Quince tree on a Korean golf course. (Photo by Marta Hanson.)

Quince tree on a Korean golf course. (Photo by Marta Hanson.)

Closer to home, the Cylburn Arboretum also has three quince trees, all of the Pseudo-Cydonia sinensis variety. They are nearly at the end of dropping all their fruit. They wrap around each tree like a golden patchwork skirt.

Quince fruit still on the branches at Cylburn Arboretum. (Photo by Marta Hanson.)

Quince fruit still on the branches at Cylburn Arboretum. (Photo by Marta Hanson.)

The Cylburn naturalist, Glenda Weber, took us on a tour to show me their specimens. In exchange, I brought over large quince fruit from the Hopkins Homewood tree. She plans to propagate a few trees from the seeds to add to the Cylburn collection. She even commented on propagating the seeds of their own Sinensis varieties to sell them at one of their plant sales in another year or two to spread the wealth more throughout Baltimore. Longer, smaller, and more golden then their Oblonga cousin east across the river (and I-83), they are also more fragrant. But they are just as hard and astringent before the first frost or cooking softens their flesh, sweetens their sourness, and transforms their original yellow into a deep pink. The Cylburn Arboretum’s quince fruits, however, are supposed to decay and disperse naturally.

Flowering quince in Carol Mundorf's yard. (Photo by Caroll Mundorf.)

Flowering quince in Carol Mundorf's yard. (Photo by Carol Mundorf.)

Still, many Baltimoreans may have a flowering Quince bush in their garden and yet not know what to do with it. Although this bush belongs to a different genus (Chaenomeles), is cultivated for their scarlet, pink, or white flowers, and bear smaller fruits, these may also be harvested.

One of The Brew’s readers, Carol Mundorf, invited me to come over to her house to see what I could do with the small hard, baseballs that grew on her Quince bush. She thought she could use the produce to convince her husband not to pull out the bush.

We made a fruit tea following the simple recipe from a Korean friend, included below, added an ample amount of honey to balance the strong sourness of the boiled fruit, and found it both soothing and refreshing.

Quince fruit tea from Carol Mundorf's harvest. (Photo by Carol Mundorf.)

Quince fruit tea from Carol Mundorf's harvest. (Photo by Carol Mundorf.)

In addition, to making a pudding from foraged American Persimmons, I decided to serve a cardamom-infused quince paste with a range of strong cheeses and a roasted quince-parsnip-carrot-yam medley from my urban harvest. It has such a unique sharp sour flavor that once tasted it lingers long in the mouth; perhaps this is why the Suburban Horticulturalist of 1842 advised adding it to an apple pie or pudding. For this reason, it is also not surprising that some historians and ancient texts suggest that Eve’s fruit of temptation in the Garden of Eden of the Book of Genesis might not have been the mythic red apple after all but rather the quirky yellow quince.

Korean Quince Tea (Mogwa-cha)

Process the quince by finely cutting into slices or strips. If the fruit is too hard, first cut in half or quarters and boil for 20 minutes. Then deseed and cut.

Use 1 part fruit to 1 part honey and 1 part sugar. Layer one after another in a jar. You can either leave this in the fridge or process like canning and bathe for 20 minutes. To make tea, add a couple tablespoons per cup and fill with boiled water. The finished product may well look like marmalade, which might also make a fine cup of hot fruit tree, but will taste more like lemon curd with its own unique quince twist.

Quince Paste

I followed Laura McCandlish’s recipe. She is an Oregon-based freelance writer who hosts a monthly food show on a Portland radio station KBOO and blogs at baltimoregon.com. She got it from Linda Ziedrich, author of The Joy of Jams, Jellies and Other Sweet Preserves (Harvard Common Press 2009).

2 pounds quinces (about 3 cups), quartered but not seeded or peeled

1 cup water

2 cups sugar

Crushed seeds from 7 cardamom pods (less than 1/4 teaspoon), optional

1/2 teaspoon rose water, optional

Split the Quince into halves or quarters. Combine the quinces and water in a pot. Over low heat, simmer the quinces, covered, until they are tender, about 20 minutes. Remove the pot from the heat and let the quinces cool a bit. For a redder paste, let the quinces stand at room temperature for 8 to 12 hours.

Scoop out the seeds from each quince piece and discard them. Pass the fruit and any juice through the medium screen of a food mill. (If you don’t have a food mill, peel and core before cooking. Then puree in a food processor, to an applesauce-like consistency at this stage.)

Put the puree into the pot along with the sugar (and the crushed cardamom, if desired). Heat the mixture over low heat, stirring, until the sugar is completely dissolved. Simmer the mixture, stirring often at first and almost constantly toward the end, for 40 minutes or more. When the paste is ready, you’ll have to hold onto the pot to keep it from sliding around as your spoon leaves a clear path across the bottom. Stir the rose water into the paste, if desired.

Pour the paste about 3/4-inch thick into lightly oiled ceramic ramekins or an 8-inch square cake pan with vertical sides. Let the paste cool and then turn it out to dry in a warm place, perhaps in your oven on its lowest setting, or in the sun.

When the paste is dry to the touch, after about 2 hours, cut it into smaller pieces if you like, and wrap the pieces in plastic or waxed paper. Unless you’ll be eating the paste soon or you’re sure it’s thoroughly dry, store it in a heavy-duty plastic bag in the refrigerator, where it should keep for several months.

Epilogue:

I used the cardamom option above without the rosewater and canned the produce in ½ pint jam jars, rather than lay the paste out in a pan as she recommended. This method worked just as well and goes as well I think with the Stilton and other strong cheeses she recommended. Even the hot Korean quince tea goes with it. I wonder what my colleague will think though when he learns I have not only found his quince tree but I have featured the quince as the fruit to forage this Thanksgiving!

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