Jellied steam; or, hooray, it’s time to make quince cheese!

What’s the best way to clear your head? Why, fill the kitchen with steam and heat of course! Hey! Not in a rude way!

It’s that brief week (actually, it was last week) where Autumn takes hold of Eden district in Cumbria, before the winter rains and possibly snows set in. (It’s already raining).

The damsons are ripening, the crabapples have already been taken by some other dogwalker (grrrrrr), the rosehips are rapidly wizening in their bowl because I picked them so long ago, and the quinces have burnished on the bush. Not to mention the bucket of mouldering apples my mother abandoned on my kitchen floor.

So it’s time for a massive jelly-making event. My mother and me tomorrow night. She is the expert (not least in making a mess) and I am the apprentice (already accomplished at making mess). My orders from the boss last night were to cook all the fruit down already and strain it through the jelly bag.

So far …


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