This was definitely a George’s Marvellous Medicine
cake; sweet, spiced, syrupy and squidgy, made during a dizzy turn without
really looking at any of the ingredients. That is where genius lies- I’ll have to stop paying attention more often! Feeling up for the challenge of cooking with a strangely antiquated ingredient that was nevertheless new to me, I’d bought a couple of quinces before Christmas from a farm shop up on the moors. They had to wait patiently for their turn though, as lumpy onlookers to
our festivities from their vantage point by the fruit bowl. When it’s "buffet
season" I’m not going to faff about poaching anything other than an egg. The
reason everything turned into a cake was simple; Daddy. I want everyone to enjoy
dessert, so having him silently eat a spiced, poached quince wasn’t something I
was looking forward to (he’d even pointed out earlier that the smell of cloves
reminded him of the dentist). So a thirty-second cake batter was whipped up, spooned on top and with fingers crossed it got pushed into the oven. I’ve never
even eaten a quince before but with the right preparation they’re absolutely
delicious. If you see any that are still lurking around in the shops, really do try this; they’re like pears but amazingly
perfumed and fragrant.
