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Falling For Quince

The knobby-shaped fruit is one of the good things about autumn

October 22, 2008|By Donna Beth Joy Shapiro , Special to The Baltimore Sun

By all rights last fall, Doug Woerner, my downtown farmers' market late-season quince source, should have been feeling the love. The October 2007 issue of Martha Stewart Living had an article on quince, with several simple recipes. But not even the blessing of that well-known purveyor of "good things" helped move many pints or pecks of the fruit off Woerner Orchards' market table.

I was, and still am, one of Woerner's only quince customers. I can't wait for his quince, with its knobby shape, glo-green color when not ready and almost fluorescent-yellow tone when ripe. My house smells happy, like a holiday, when the fruit's cooking. Its appearance at the market is one of the only good things I can say about having to bid summer adieu.

A particular pleasure of this market is the display savvy of farmers who juxtapose their goods by color and shape - almost like painting with produce. But quince made its almost invisible 2008 debut on Woerner's table the first Sunday of October, unhighlighted next to similarly shaped yellow Bartlett pears. Maybe Woerner's thoughts paralleled mine as I mournfully regarded and bought the last of his Gettysburg-area white peaches, marking the true spiritual end of summer. But then, after I had eased several boxes of quince into my rolling basket, autumn was off and running.

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My early-season source is Richard Dilworth of Hills Forest Fruit Farm in Kingsville. His market table, almost back-to-back with Woerner's, sports quince from his ancestral tree a month ahead, courtesy of his more southerly location. Besides me, he has only one other rabid, regular customer, characterized as a Russian gentleman, which amuses me and makes me curious if he's Jewish, and of Ashkenazi descent, as am I. Quince are native to Iran and figure prominently in the distinctive Sephardic cuisine of Middle Eastern Jews.

Mostly, Dilworth brings quince to brighten up and fill up his table when his wares run low. I discovered he had quince quite by accident. One Sunday I commented on how his Ginger Gold apples approximated the odd hue of quince and, before I knew it, I had secured a new line of fruit. Dilworth brings them to market unripe and with the leaves on. I'm happy to plop them in bowls and just look at them, but I've also found this early variety needs to be refrigerated and cooked before it's fully ripe or it rots. Quickly.

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