Tuesday I conquered quince. My mother conquered buttermilk biscuits.
She mixed all the ingredients by heart after she watched a program from a cooking show.
I was trying to figure out which recipe I should use in making quince preserves.
She kneaded out the dough. It was the right consistency.
Me, I asked my dad for help translating a quince recipe from a Croatian cooking magazine.
My mom was searching for the right cutting tool cause the earlier one didn’t seem to cut it.
My dad went off to taking care of some other business else where in the house. I looked at all the ingredients and equipment and I thought, “What have I got my self in to!”
Finding the right tool for the job, my mom cut fancy biscuits and placed them on a pan. She placed them in the hot oven, went downstairs and watched TV.
Getting my composer, I cleaned the quince under the tap, cut and took the seeds out. I placed the cut up fruit in a pot, poured in a liter or two of water and turned on the heat.
My mom got up from her seat to check on the now rising biscuits. They were rising nicely.
I simply stirred and stared at the boiling pot. I later covered it and looked for reference from my collections of images to pass the time.
My mother went back to check on her biscuits. They were done and a little too done. Luckily she took them out in time or she would have had some newly acquired hockey pucks.
I stirred and stirred some more. It was about 5 hours worth, too much for me. My dad when to check on my progress, it wasn’t very much progress.
My mom brought a sample biscuit downstairs where I was cooking. It wasn’t bad.
I was getting frustrated. My dad and me decided it was a good idea to blend the stubborn mash of fruit. Finally something resembling preserves, I think. After blending, the mixture was placed back in to the pot and boiled some more with some sugar. My stomach was growling so I fetched a freshly baked biscuit. It was already 7pm. Oh joy the time was finally right, I poured the mush in to hot jars and closed them tight. I boiled the jars for the finishing touch of ceiling for freshness.
I think I conquered applesauce and my mom conquered almost hockey pucks.
RIP David Cassidy 1950-2017
1 month ago