Add two big quinces

The second fruit I used this early autumn for a liqueur was the quince. I wanted to capture the colour and flavour of the quince. As they quickly discolour once peeled, I had to work very fast. The cooked quince turns pink or red. If one wants to make a liqueur capturing that colour, it will be best to cook the quince and make simple syrup with the cooked juice, before adding it to your alcohol of choice.

Towerwater Quince Liqueur recipe:

2 big Quinces (as ripe as possible)
750ml Vodka
500ml Sugar
500ml Water
1.5ml glass jar with lid

De-core the quinces and set the cores aside. Grate the sliced quinces and add, with the cores, to the glass jar. Add the Vodka and shake well. Let the fruit macerate for one month in a cool dry place.

When your quince mixture is ready, make simple syrup with 500ml of sugar and 500ml of water. Heat the sugar and water mixture over a low heat. Stir to dissolve the sugar, bring to a boil and take it off the heat. Let the syrup cool overnight.

Filter the quince infused Vodka into a glass jar through a double muslin cloth. Add the cold simple syrup and mix well. You can now bottle your liqueur. Let it rest for a couple of days before enjoying.

Note: When making liqueur, the sugar syrup will dilute the alcohol content of your fruit infused Vodka. If you want a stronger liqueur use less syrup.

Quince liqueur retains the yellow colour of the quince as well as its tart taste. I like the taste of the quince liqueur and it is a welcome addition to the Towerwater cocktail repertoire.

As soon as my liqueur is ready, I intend making a Towerwater Quince and Ginger Martini. 

Take a couple of pears

The fruit this year is of very good quality. We were blessed with abundant harvests. As with anything I need to preserve on the property, I enjoy capturing the flavours of the fruit in alcohol. The pears are no exception.

I love Packham pears and the tree in the orchard is in top form this year. I enjoy the flavour of the sun ripened fruit. We have enjoyed them in so many different ways. Cooked in cinnamon and suspended in jelly as desert; juiced with lime and beetroot for a healthy breakfast juice; and surely the best- in a salad with blue cheese, pecan nuts and arugula.

It was inevitable that there would be a pear liqueur on the shelf in the cellar at the end of it all. I made a pear and vanilla pod liqueur.

Pear and Vanilla Pod Liqueur recipe:

4 ripe but firm pears
1 Vanilla pod
500ml Sugar
500ml Water
750ml Vodka
1,5l glass jar with lid

Wash and dry the pears. Remove the cores and discard, cut the pears into big chunks and place in the jar. Cut the Vanilla pod in half with a sharp paring knife. Scrape out the seeds from the vanilla pod and add to the pears in the jar. Fill the jar with the Vodka and close the lid. Shake gently to mix the pears and vanilla. Place in a dark cool place for a month.

When your pear and Vodka mixture is ready, make simple syrup with 500ml of sugar and 500ml of water. Heat the sugar and water mixture over a low heat. Stir to dissolve the sugar, bring to a boil and take it off the heat. Let the syrup cool overnight.

Filter the pear infused Vodka into a glass jar through a double muslin cloth to catch small, hard-to-see bits of pear that, when left in the liqueur, cause it to develop ‘off’ flavours more quickly.

Add the cold simple syrup and mix well. You can now bottle your liqueur. Let it rest for a few days before enjoying.

Pear liqueur is a sweet memory of a summer’s day in autumn. It can be enjoyed in winter on its own or in a whisky-based cocktail.

Admiring the orchard at Towerwater

In “The Odyssey” by Homer, there is a description of an orchard at the palace of Alcinous, the king of the Phaecians. In Book Seven, Odysseus is led to the palace of Alcinous by Athene. Whilst at the palace, Odysseus admires the orchard.

The description reads as follows; “Beyond the courtyard, near to the doors, lies a large four-acre orchard, surrounded by a hedge. Tall, heavily laden trees grow there, pear, pomegranate and apple, rich in glossy fruit, sweet figs and dense olives. The fruit never rots or fails, winter or summer. It lasts all year, and the West Wind’s breath quickens some to life, and ripens others, pear on pear, apple on apple, cluster on cluster of grapes, and fig on fig. There is Alcinous’ fertile vineyard too, with a warm patch of level ground in one part set aside for drying the grapes, while the labourers gather and tread others, as the foremost rows of unripe grapes shed their blossom, and others become tinged with purple. Beyond the furthest row again are neat beds with every kind of plant, flowering all year round, and there are two springs in the orchard, one flowing through the whole garden, while the other runs the opposite way, under the courtyard sill, near where the people of the city draw their water, towards the great house. Such were the gods’ glorious gifts to Alcinous’ home.”

I am not sure why the fruit in Alcinous’ garden “never rots or fails” but the orchard sounds glorious. The orchard described in this epic poem, probably written near the end of the 8^th century BC, was inspired by one or many orchards that Homer must have seen.

I know that the orchard in the Oddyssey is based on mythology, but this year the orchard at Towerwater could have been described in a similar vein. I planned the planting in the orchard to ensure that we have fresh fruit all year round.

The seasons of fruit start with the early peaches followed by the apricots, nectarines, plums, figs, prunes, grapes, grenadillas, apples, pears, almonds, pomegranates, guavas, quinces, limes, lemons, kumquats, naartjies and ending with oranges, in sequence. The homemade compost provided a surprise addition by way of a pawpaw tree, as though to spontaneously add to the bounty of the garden.

For us, the reality of the Towerwater garden is the stuff of mythology. We still need to pinch ourselves occasionally to confirm that this magical place is not a slip of mythological imaginings. What adds to the pleasure is remembering the not so easily forgotten hard work that went in to realise this dream.

One can draw plans on paper and have all these ideas in one’s head, but after putting the basics in place the universe and nature takes over. Life plays out in a balance of delight and despair. The garden still demands constant attention. Diseases abound and the battle to save the fruit is paramount. To achieve this, the orchard requires a strict management plan.

On quiet mornings, I like to walk into the garden and marvel at the beauty of the trees laden with their fruit. Picking a Golden Delicious apple from the tree and biting into it is like biting into a golden orb of sunshine. It is an experience that is difficult to describe, even in mythological terms.

I admire the orchard, not as something that I own or possess, but as a gift of nature that I need to curate. When you make a dream cross the divide into reality, you become responsible for that dream. The reality of the dream alone will not sustain it. Your responsibility is to keep the dream alive by nurturing it constantly.

When I admire the orchard at Towerwater, it is with a sense of humility, fulfilment and awe.

Time to plant turmeric

I do not believe in fads. I avoid anything the media wants to sell as a must-have for any season, or the must-eat vegetable or spice for this or that year. Since we laid out the garden at Towerwater, I have always planted the reliable old varieties of vegetables. However, heirloom vegetables have provided an opportunity to ‘play’ with the garden.

Turmeric rhizomes

I might decide to colour my vegetable garden with white beets, white carrots, white brinjals and white pumpkins. Or, I could plant purple carrots, purple tomatoes, purple beans and purple cauliflowers.

Heirloom seeds bring magic into the garden. From the excitement of choosing the seeds, to planning and planting them.  Then watching the plants grow and seeing the first flowers, the fruit or roots.

After waiting a whole season, the harvest allows for a feast of colours on the plate.

Dried turmeric root and ground turmeric

Being on social media exposes one to so much information. When I saw the first few ‘shares’ about turmeric, I did not take much notice. However, when one of the nurseries that I buy heirloom seeds from, sent me an email to inform me that they have stock of turmeric rhizomes, I thought I should have a more serious look at this spice.

The next day I went online to look at the nursery’s stock and was informed that all the turmeric was sold out. I was puzzled. Not even 24 hours earlier they had sent me an email to inform me that they had received new stock.

Now I was really curious. Was I missing out on the holy grail of spices? A quick online search told me that turmeric was the new super spice and the must-use spice for 2017. Apparently, “this rock star of spices possesses anti-inflammatory, antioxidant and anti-cancer properties.”

Okay, I had to admit my interest was piqued. As with anything in my life, I started a voyage of discovery to ascertain the truth behind the buzz words. I discovered that turmeric has always been a highly valued spice in Asia. It has been used in medicines, cosmetics, as a dyeing agent and for culinary purposes.

Traditionally, no Cape kitchen would have been without dried turmeric root or ground turmeric. One of the most popular traditional dishes in the Cape is Bobotie and yellow rice or “begrafnis rys” (literally, “funeral rice”); so called, because it was traditionally a favourite dish to serve at funerals. Both components are prepared using turmeric.

At last I managed to get hold of eight turmeric rhizomes and planted them in the herb garden. On Saturday I saw a tiny leaf, like that of a ginger plant, struggling its way through the mass of self-sown borage seedlings. On closer inspection, I discovered that it was the first turmeric plant with four more buds pushing through the soil.

My frst turmeric plant

I am excited to see how the plants and especially the flowers will look. I have never tasted fresh turmeric and look forward to experimenting with this spice, both in food and drink.

Firstly, I will have to do a lot more reading to find out how accurate the assertions are about turmeric being used to reduce arthritis symptoms, inflammatory skin conditions, gingivitis, and possibly even preventing colon cancer and Alzheimer’s disease.

Traditionally it has been used in Ayurvedic and Chinese medicine to treat infections, liver and skin disorders. It has also been used to dress wounds and burns and to decrease inflammation.

The time has come to explore the properties of this miracle spice in all its forms at Towerwater. 

Aphrodite and the quince jelly

Quinces are steeped in a history stretching back nearly 4 000 years in the Caspian Sea area and particularly around ancient Babylon.

This curious shaped ‘apple’ will perfume the air of any room with their intense aroma, released from where they may rest in a bowl or basket.

It is versatile and can be cooked or roasted and used for jams, marmalade, jellies, pudding or in stews.

Over the weekend, while I acted as tourist-guide for our friend and her two children visiting from Canada, Keith decided to make quince jelly. In this way he could escape the road-works and seemingly endless ‘stop-goes’ that currently occur between the neighbouring towns of Ashton and Montagu.

Coming home just before lunch, the aroma of quinces cooking met me on the stone kitchen stoep as I came around the corner of the house. The cool fragrant house was in contrast to the 38°C outside.

Quince jelly is quite an intense process of cooking, of straining pulp, and of cooking and straining a second time before the sugar is added to the juice for the final cooking. The pink jelly is worth all the trouble. It can lift a venison dish and transform a cold leg of lamb into something quite exotic.

The ancient Greeks believed that quince trees sprung up from wherever Aphrodite stepped when she was born from the foaming sea, thus linking the fruits with love and fertility. For this reason, the fruit was often offered as a wedding gift by both the Greeks and Romans.

Quinces symbolise love and fertility and consequently, all quince trees were sacred to Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Greek brides would bite into a quince to perfume her kiss before entering the bridal chamber.

I think Aphrodite would approve of the quince jelly that was made in the Towerwater kitchen on Saturday.

I am sharing the recipes for quince jelly from two of the earliest local cookbooks at the Cape.

A.G. Hewitt – Cape Cookery, simple yet distinctive – 1890

“QUINCE JELLY

Peel and slice the quinces. Boil them in water (1 pint to 1lb of fruit) till quite soft. Strain off the juice and allow weight for weight of sugar.

Put the juice on to boil, and let it boil quickly for 20 minutes before you add the sugar. Then boil till it jellies.”

Hildagond Duckitt – Hilda’s, “Where is it?” 1891

“JELLY (QUINCE).

(Mrs. Cloete’s, of Constantia, Recipe.)

Take about twenty-five quinces, wipe them clean, cut in quarters, lay in a large preserving-pot, cover with water (about six quarts to twenty-five quinces); boil till quite soft, then strain through a thin cloth or coarse milk strainer. To three cups of juice take two of white sugar; boil in small quantities on a brisk fire. When it begins to get thick, pour a little into a tumbler of water; and if it congeals, and does not mix with the water, it is ready to be put into moulds or cups. Cover with paper dipped in brandy, and keep in a dry place. Will keep for years.”

An abundant autumn

It is autumn and the heat of summer has extended its stay. Autumn in the Towerwater garden is sweet and fragrant.

With the abundant pears, figs, quinces, plums and hanepoot (Muscat d’alexandrie) grapes, it is as if the sweetest fruit is now filling the bowls on the kitchen table.

It is a good season and it looks as though we are winning the fight against the fruit fly infestation. Only time and the bait stations will tell.

The colours seem like subdued sunshine with yellows, golds and green in the skins of the fruit. It is as if the trees and vines have captured the summer sun in the intense sweetness of their fruit.

In the absence of blossoms, the bees have invaded the butterfly flower bed I planted for them at the bottom of the vegetable garden.

Walking through the quiet garden, I was taken by surprise when I stepped around the cottage corner and found the whole bed alive with bees. My first instinct was to capture the intensity of their activity with my camera. I soon realised that only a video with sound would really capture the ‘buzz’ in this bed.

I decided to simply marvel at their unceasing collecting of nectar and pollen. Closing my eyes gave me the opportunity to listen and feel the vibration of possibly a thousand tiny bee wings.

The flower garden seems to be in shades of pink with the Crinum Moorei, butterfly flowers and the pink hydrangeas slowly turning to their green autumn shades.

Like us, the bees seem to find pleasure in the abundance of Towerwater’s autumn garden.

Quinces in autumn

Autumn filled the house with the subtle fragrance of quinces emanating from the bowl on the yellowwood dining room table. The fruit with their bright yellow skins brightens the quince hedge alongside the herb garden. I love the smell of quinces.

An old Cape house would seem incomplete without a quince hedge. The quince can make quite a dense hedge. I have seen them woven together to make an impenetrable barrier. The quince prefers to grow like a poplar tree or shrub.

I prefer them as trees. That means that I need to take off the new branches that grow out from the base of the trunk, on a regular basis.

As children we used to take a dinner fork and make tiny pricks all over the fruit before soaking it in salt water. This helped the fruit keep its colour and make it juicier. The fruit tends to be dry and  astringent. Nearly like the persimmon flesh before it is properly ripe.

The beautiful quince fruit has a unique fragrance that is quite hard to describe. The bowl of quinces in the dining room gives the house a historic atmosphere, as it captures a scene reminiscent of the earliest days.

The quince must surely have been one of the trees that Jan van Riebeeck planted from seeds that he brought with him. They were most likely planted in the garden that he established for the Dutch East India Company, in the heart of what is now Cape Town.

The fruit is so versatile. I love the jelly and chutney that can be made from this fragrant fruit and enjoyed with game and pork dishes. The fruit is a soft yellow colour but turns pink when cooked. It becomes the most beautiful pink jelly ideal for serving with sweet or savoury dishes.

I am curious about the history of food. Seeing a still life with quinces painted by Luis Egidio Melendez (1716 - 1780) made me realise that this fruit must have been eaten and prepared in a variety of historical dishes.

Preserves of quince were imported into England from Portugal, Genoa, Spain and France and they were known as ‘marmalades’. The word originates from the Portuguese word for quince namely, marmelo.

According to Historicfood.com, “Other names were cotoniack, quiddany and diasetonia. The last was a term used by the London apothecaries, who prescribed these sweet pastes and jellies for assisting the digestion. This was the reason why quince pastes were served after the meal during the banquet course. In 1629, John Parkinson, the Covent Garden based herbalist to James I, wrote,

"There is no fruit growing in this Land that is of so many excellent uses as this, serving as well to make many dishes of meate for the table, as for banquets, and much more for the Physicall vertues".”

Well, I am keen to discover the historical flavours of foods. I will certainly be exploring new ways of using the quince in food through a research of historical recipes.