While quince is often seen as an ingredient for desserts, this simple quince braise shows that the fruit doesn’t need to be sweetened to be delicious. It's made with advieh, a heady Persian spice blend made from warming spices like cumin, cardamom, nutmeg and rose petals. This recipe is taken from Silk Roads: A Flavour Odyssey with Recipes from Baku to Beijing by Anna Ansari (£27, DK RED). Photography by Laura Edwards
Anna says: "Originally native to the ancient Hyrcanian forests near the Caspian Sea, the quince, like so many other foodstuffs, spread across the globe via the trade routes of antiquity, and has featured in mythology and superstition for centuries. Some believe the mythic golden apple that sparked the Trojan War was actually a quince. Others claim the golden peaches of Samarkand, the inspiration for this very book, were quinces. Further west, some Europeans in the Middle Ages believed eating quinces could stave off the Black Death, while others, including Britain’s “Bloody” Tudor Queen Mary, believed the fruit to be an aphrodisiac.
In the UK these days, people are familiar with quince primarily in the form of membrillo, a concentrated, sugary jelly paste of Spanish origin that pairs perfectly with a slice of Manchego cheese. Every year, without fail, someone in my neighbourhood Facebook group posts something along the lines of: “Hey guys! I have so many quinces on my tree! What do I do with all of these? What can I make other than membrillo?”
When I tell my father of the British quince glut, his eyes grow wide in shock and envy. We don’t have a lot of quinces in America, you see. “You are so lucky,” he tells me. And I am, for many reasons, least of which is my ability to cook this sweet and sour khoresh on a pretty regular basis during the autumn quince season. Quince and chicken, a duo even more perfect than jelly and cheese, if you ask me."
Season your chicken with 1 teaspoon of the salt, then set aside
In a large casserole pot or saucepan for which you have a lid, heat 3 tablespoons of the oil over a high heat
Once the oil is shimmering, reduce the heat to low and add the onions. Sauté for 5–7 minutes, or until they are soft and golden, then add the remaining 1 teaspoon of salt, along with the black pepper, advieh, turmeric, tomato purée, split peas, and apricots. Stir to mix
Add the chicken to the pot. Stir everything together, then add 600ml water
Reduce the heat to the lowest it will go, then cover and cook on a quiet simmer for 1 hour, stirring occasionally
Meanwhile, heat the remaining 3 tablespoons oil in a medium sauté pan over a medium heat. Add the quince pieces and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5–7 minutes, or until the fruit begins to brown at its edges. Set aside
When the hour of simmering is up, add the browned quince to the pot with the chicken, using a slotted spoon to do so if you don’t want any additional oil in your finished khoresh. Stir in the brewed saffron
What a dish! Just take a look at it now. Smell it. The colours. The delicate fragrance. You’re almost there! Stir everything together, put the lid back on, and cook for another 20 minutes. (You may want to add an additional 120ml water to the pot if it looks overly dry. You want your end product to be served over rice on a plate – you are not making a soup that goes in a bowl – so only add more liquid if you think it really needs it.)
After 20 minutes, add sugar and vinegar to taste, starting with ½ teaspoon of each. The khoresh should be a nice balance of sweet and sour, so adjust accordingly. For me, it’s usually ½ teaspoon of sugar and 1½ teaspoons of vinegar, but it really depends on the tartness of the quinces, and every one is different. Add additional salt now if you so desire
Stir everything together and cook for a final 10 minutes. Serve with rice, and never wonder what to do with quince again
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