Still life with quince and pomegranates

In my research, I include old paintings and drawings for visual information on historical buildings, plants and food. When I research food, fruit and vegetables, I like to study the works of early artists. Where the still-life was painted, is good indication of where the fruit grew. I enjoy the old masters and their interpretation of life around them.

Still life with pomegranate and quince - Towerwater

I found that the quince and the pomegranate were painted by a couple of the old masters around the Mediterranean area. I can safely rely on the artist painting from life and creating the still-life subject in close proximity to where the plants, fruit or vegetables had grown.

Still Life with Pomegranates and other fruit in a Landscape by Luis Egidio Melendez(1716-1780), oil on canvas, 1771, Museo del Prado,Madrid,Spain.  

Still life with pomegranate and other fruit - Towerwater

A still life with quinces, figs, apples, grapes and a pomegranate - Roman School, 17th Century

Still life with pomegranate and quince and other fruit - Towerwater

Pomegranates and Other Fruit in a Landscape - Abraham Brueghel (Flemish, 1631–1697) . Painted in Rome or Naples (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Still life with pomegranates - Pierre-Auguste Renoir. 1893 (http://www.pierre-auguste-renoir.org)

Quince chutney

The healthy harvest of quinces this season has had me thinking on how to use the fruit in innovative ways. We have made quince liqueur, quince jelly, baked them in the oven and roasted them with vegetables.

I decided to try a different chutney recipe from the one that I had used previously. I decided on the one in the recipe book ‘Cook and Enjoy It’ by S.J.A. de Villiers. Luckily, the quinces are large and four were enough for the 1.5 Kg of quinces required for the recipe. I was happy that I did not have to peel a lot of tiny quinces to achieve the required volume.

My experience with making chutney is that the chutney takes on the spicy colour of the ingredients. The quinces did not disappoint. The cooked fruit took on the familiar pink hue of cooked quinces. The colour of the quince chutney was a new experience for me. The texture of the chutney is less chunky and more like a spicy fruit butter.

Well it will be interesting to see how it complements curries and cheese platters. When I think of the quince, I think of game or pork dishes. Perhaps I should try a Springbok curry or a spicy slow-roasted pork belly to serve with the quince chutney.

That is life in a kitchen, food leads to food. Pairing the right flavour combinations always provides for a taste adventure. So once more, the produce from the garden dictates not only the meals but also the condiments and vice versa.

I will give the quince chutney a month or so to settle the flavours before I decide on how to use it with meals. It will possibly be good as a glaze for a slow-roasted leg of pork stuffed with garlic.

With the chutney bottled and stored in the cellar, I can focus on what to do with the rest of the quince harvest.

Quince Chutney

Ingredients:
1.5 kg (3lb) quinces

1.7 l (3pints) vinegar

250 to 500ml ( 1 – 2 cups) sugar

4 - 6 dried chillies

2 onions

½ clove of garlic
12.5 ml ( 1 T)  ground ginger
500g (1 lb) seedless raisins

25 ml (2 T) salt

Method:
1. Peel, core and slice the quinces.

2. Cook the quinces in the vinegar until soft and rub through a sieve or blend in a blender.

3. Chop the chillies, onion and garlic finely and add the quince and vinegar mixture. Add all the other ingredients and mix well.
4. Simmer gently for 30 minutes until thick. Add more vinegar if needed.
5. Bottle and seal the chutney while still hot.

Birds and olives

It is olive season and the four olive trees in our neighbour’s garden that overhang the wall between our properties, are heavy with olives. They are black and beautiful and as I pick them up in the pathway opposite the front door, I consider preserving them.

The trees were planted to provide for privacy and not for consumption purposes. However, the birds love them. When I found a small flock of Cape white eyes enjoying the olives, I was quite surprised as a fresh olive is quite bitter.

Then I wondered if birds have taste buds. I discovered by a brief search, that birds rely more on sight than on taste. That made complete sense to me. I had been tempted to taste the beautiful black berries but for a previous bitter encounter that dissuaded me from trying it again.

The curing of olives can take up to six weeks. One needs to change the water on a daily basis to remove the bitterness. The curing of olives will not be possible at Towerwater until we are in a position to tend to it on a daily basis.

Admiring the fruit, I wondered what cultivar it might be. Looking at the colour it can either be Black Manzanilla or Black Mission. Looking at the black bird droppings on our white lime-washed walls, I decided that it must be Black Mission olives.

It is going to be a mission to clean the black olive streaks from our white garden wall. 

Meeting at markets

I love food markets, particularly farm stalls and organic markets. The tables of fresh fruit are a pleasure to peruse. The proud sellers of home-grown and homemade produce are the nicest people to chat with.  There is a sense-of-being amongst people who grow and preserve fresh fruit and vegetables that can be described as a different connectedness. It is as if it is a community who are all rooted in the soil through the fingers. The same fingers used for planting and harvesting.

I love the seasoned farmer’s wife that displays her produce with confidence, secure in the knowledge of her craft. Our conversations are familiar. They cover the seasonal activities on the farm, the blessing of rain or its absence. It is a market-friendship, forged over many weekends of sharing stories and recipes of gardening and preserving.

I love the novice stall-holder. You can spot them from a mile away. The stall seems brighter, the stall-holder beaming, not worn down by poor sales and competing producers. They bring with them an enthusiasm for gardening that rekindles a nearly forgotten excitement within oneself. They have not been scarred by pests and diseases. The wonder of discovery of their new passion still prevails.

Growing and preserving one’s own fruit and vegetables makes one look differently at what is available at markets. Farm markets in the countryside still offer good value for money. One is sure to find fresh vegetables not growing in your own garden at a good price. With that, one can enjoy some refreshing conversation, of hopes and dreams and the sharing of triumphs and losses.

The lightness of trees

As we enter the month of May with the orchard straining under quinces, apples, pomegranates, plums and guavas, the time has come to harvest the final crops from most of the fruit trees.

Some of the autumn leaves on the quince trees resemble the bright yellow of the heavy fruit that draws the branches downward.

With a blessed season, we had healthy harvests from all the trees. The fruit flies are found only far and in between in the bait traps. We might have turned the tide on the destructive Mediterranean fruit fly. Hopefully next year will even be better.

With all the quinces and apples harvested, the branches of the trees have lifted. They look lighter and seem to heave a sigh of relief that their fruit bearing season has come to an end.

The garden feels lighter as well. In a month’s time, most of the trees would have started losing their leaves. ‘Touch wood’, I have not noticed the white fly infestation experienced in previous years in the pear trees this year.

The bulbuls and the Cape white eyes looked surprised as they go about the bare apple tree where they were still feasting on the yellow sweetness of the Golden Delicious apples the previous day. Their alarmed twitter fills the orchard but I am sure that they will soon move on to the white and pink guavas.

For now we revel in the abundance of fruit that fills the house and garden. The bowls and baskets have taken the weight off the branches. We will miss the abundance of summer but it is time for autumn.

We celebrate the lightness of the trees as their leaves flutter downward in the breeze.

Guavadillas, grenadillas and passion fruit

My cousin let me know that he had dropped off a bag of yellow grenadillas at the house on Wednesday. I was very curious to see the fruit. According to custom, I had to embark on a little research as well.

I discovered that the yellow variety is actually a guavadilla. I suppose they look a little bit like the white guava variety, but that is where the similarities end for me. It is just another example of the diverse world in which we live. It is a world where the same fruit, vegetable or herb might be known by a different name, depending on where you are. A bit confusing sometimes if you ask me.

So from passion fruit, to guavadilla and then to grenadilla, they are all the same and a bit different as well. I found the skin of the yellow guavadilla a bit thicker. They are also a bit tarter, but I am sure that if I eat enough of them I will come across a sweet one.

The name Passion fruit comes from the fact that it is a species of passion flower that comes from the English translation of the Latin name Passiflora. The plant was apparently called ‘flor das cinco changas’ or ‘flower of the five wounds’ by missionaries in Brazil to illustrate aspects of the crucifixion of Christ. The stamens resemble the three nails that were used in the crucifixion and also the five wounds that were inflicted.

I had to go and examine the flower after reading this information. I had to agree that three nails were quite clear but found that the five wounds required some imagination.

I enjoy learning about and experiencing new varieties of fruit and vegetables. In this way I satisfy my own passion for gardening.

Making Pomegranate liqueur and sorbet

With the pomegranates cracking open on the trees, as if they cannot contain their arils anymore, I realised that we cannot eat them fast enough and that I need to preserve and use them in other ways.

I decided to make a pomegranate liqueur. After two months of macerating the arils on alcohol, I could bottle the most beautiful red liqueur.

What a decadent liqueur to add to the collection of homemade liqueurs in the cellar. I have basically made liqueur from all the fruit on the property. Lime, lemon, kumquat, fig, pear, quince and now pomegranate liqueur, all grace our shelves.

The liqueur smells like liquid pomegranates with the sweet and tartness of the fruit present on the palate. It is a clear winner for use in cocktails.

I decided to make pomegranate sorbet. I was pleasantly surprised by the intensity of the fruit flavour of this frozen delight.

Both the liqueur and sorbet will become part of the Towerwater food repertoire.

How to make pomegranate liqueur
Take 500g pomegranate arils, 2 cardamom seeds and 1ml grated lemon peel (preferably organic). Put it in a large glass bottle (I use a large consul bottle that is probably 1.5l). Pour 750ml vodka over the seeds and peel. Close your bottle and shake it well to mix. Place the bottle in a cool dry place for 2 months, shaking occasionaully. When the vodka and fruit are ready, make ordinary sugar syrup of 2 cups of sugar with 2 cups of water. Allow the sugar to dissolve in the water over a low heat while stirring. Before bringing the syrup to a boil, take it off the heat and let it cool overnight. Filter the Vodka mixture through two layers of cheese cloth into a jug. Add the sugar syrup and pour it into bottles. Just remember that your sugar syrup will lower the alcohol content of your liqueur. If you prefer a stronger liqueur use less syrup.

‘n Bak vol Herfs

En so het herfs uiteindelik geariveer. Nie met koue dae en reën nie, maar ‘n see van herfsblare wat die grasperk vol lê op uitermate warm dae.  Ek weet die winter kom maar dit is slegs die lengte van die dae wat mens bewus maak daarvan.

Die natuur hou nie by die reëls nie. Die dag temperature is nog steeds bo 30° Celsius wat die groente tuin en saad heeltemal deurmekaar maak.

Gerugte van reën is skaars en enige paar druppels wat val is ‘n rede vir blydskap. Die tuin ruik na ryp kwepers, appels en koejawels dit is amper soos om in ‘n vrugtebak rond te stap.

Vroeg oggend lê ek in die donker kamer en wag vir die dagbreek om die ruimte om my te vergestalt in venster, deur, muur, kas, bed en rietplafon.

Ek lê en wag vir die slag van die kerkklok onder in die straat om vir my ‘n duideliker idee te gee van tyd. Terwyl die tiptol onseker in die boord begin fluit, stop, wag net om die roetine te herhaal tot waneer hy seker is die dag gaan breek.

Waar someroggende my al voor ses uur in die tuin in lok, vind ek my voor die dubbeldeure van die sitkamer op herfsoggende waar ek uitstaar na ‘n tuin waar eens bekende plante, slegs swart silhoeëtte teen die horison vorm.

Die tuin is onbereikbaar ver in die donker. Ek mis die oggende wat lig en verassend in gister se onthou verander het.

Boccherini  se Kwintet vir kitaar en strykinstrumente No. 4 in D majeur, vul die oggend skemer  rondom my. Vir ‘n wyle  staan ek net en luister voordat  ek kombuis toe stap om die ketel aan te sit vir tee. Die ryk reuk van die teeblare word deur die warm porselein geaksentueer voordat ek die water oor dit gooi sodat hul geur al draaiend in die teepot vrygestel word.

Die moutagtige Assam tee en marmalade op roosterbrood is seker een van die heerlikste maniere om tyd te verwyl terwyl jy wag vir die dagbreek  wat gewoontlik met voëlgesang aangekondig word.

Herfs is ‘n bedrywige tyd in die tuin. ‘n Hele somer se baldadigheid moet onder beheer gebring word sodat die tuin gereed gemaak kan word vir die lente.

Ek tel ‘n hand vol akkerblare op vir die bak op die kombuis tafel en ‘n bak vol droë akkerblare raak plotseling ‘n heerlikheid wat die herfs die huis in bring. 

Herfs

Onder ’n helder koeler lug

raak die vrugte swaar aan tak

en loot. Die somermusikante tuimel

uit die notebalk van telefoondrade

en flikker noord. Die son sak

na warmer streke saans,

en die laaste dae swerm ylings

soos bye in die milde halflig.

Kontoere wat na skadu’s ryp

en sap wat óp in dun skeute stoot

en spring, ’n dieper stem

wat uitroep in die appelboord:

Ja, ook hierdie kort verblyf

skink op sy tyd ’n speelse heuning. (Johann  De Lange 1984)