If you could smell the kitchen right now...

Well, hello. Long-time, no-post and all that. Apparently it was March, in fact, and a report on a fancy weekend away in Bury St Edmunds.

I'm sure plenty of things have happened since then -- certainly lots of eating has -- but the only one I particularly remember (and the reason I've forgotten the rest) is the chap and I getting wed in a small do in Christchurch in September. I can thoroughly recommend the King's Arms hotel, Christchurch for all your hotel-type and dining needs, if you're ever in the area. In a total rejection of the 2020s, I had prawn cocktail, steak and banana split. And it was glorious. Oh, and there were canapés, too: just look at these duck-and-hoisin beauts.

Duck rillet on slices of cucumber, dressed with chives and hoisin sauce.

We honeymooned in Bruges, which was just what you'd hope and expect.

Chips with carbonnade sauce.

Beer in a Straffe Hendrik glass, next to a Straffe Hendrik bottle and a Straffe Hendrik barrel. We were at the brewery what makes it, you see.

A medieval building.
Culture in all its forms. (There were chocolates, too.)

(There was a super section in the Gruuthusemuseum about the neo-gothic revival in Bruges and which bits of this building were added in the late 19th century to 'medievalise' it.)

We returned home via some typically Belgian surrealism in Brussels.

Dance of the Brussels Giants in the Grand Place (no, me neither)

Seven-belled trombone. Thoroughly recommend the Musée des Instruments de Musique if you like this sort of thing. 

ANYWAY, I'm here to tell you about the return of QUINCE SEASON.

It's been chutney-making day here. This recipe (weirdly, from the RHS website) is an absolute winner. I make it yearly with quinces and pears (pears to replace the apples).

Two quinces and one pear on a chopping board.

There's a lot of chopping involved, but one of the great things about the recipe is that it doesn't call for any onions, at least.

Chopped quince in a saucepan.


The skins and cores of the quinces get saved and simmered with water before straining, boiling down a bit and mixing with sugar to make a syrup for cocktails later. 

Quince peels simmering in a small pan.
Simmering quince: arch-enemy of camera white balance, apparently

The only thing wrong with the chutney recipe is that it says simmer for 'about 30 minutes' and I always find it takes nearer 3 hours. Maybe if I had a wider pan it would be quicker. But anyway, the results are worth it. Must remember to label the new batch before tucking it away in storage.

Reused jam jars filled with dark brown chutney.


There are three small quince left: they'll be steeped in vodka for a Christmas treat. Just as soon as I buy some vodka...

I've not really been feeling the delights of Autumn so far, but perhaps this will help. 



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