I could have sworn that I had saved the draft of my current post just before I set off to the shops. Not only could I have sworn but I have sworn, plumbing new depths of profanity, but in spite of verbalising the most creative combinations of body parts and sexual behaviour, that which was written is no longer. It is just as well that the 10 Commandments were not entrusted to a computer’s memory or we’d all be coveting our neighbour’s ass, unaware of how very naughty we were being, as opposed to current ass coveting, the naughtiness of which has been graven in stone lest we forget. Which brings me neatly to quinces and obsession which is where I was before I didn’t press the “save” button ( although I did, Mr.Computer, and I know you’re listening). The problem with obsession is that it cannot be satisfied because the embellishments, brought about by expectation, are as insubstantial as thought itself. Spike Milligan describes the joy of a young man who has at last made the longed for intimate acquaintance with a woman’s breasts which arousing experience quickly palls as he runs out of things to do with them. Such is my experience with quinces. I love the look of them and when I see some I can’t wait to get my hands on them. Once in my hands I admire their soft rounded form, their downy texture and their ripeness. I weigh them, squeeze them, juggle them and even, I confess, take pictures of them but in the end, my dream of quinceness remains unfulfilled. Membrillo and quince jellies are wonderful and toothsome delights but that which I like most about them resides in the fact that someone else made them. Jellying and jamming are not in my remit. Painting and house repairs aren’t in my remit either, but sometimes I am led to cause damage to the house when those who should know better foolishly demand that I repair bits of it. A dim memory has just come to me of a photograph I did of a roasted goose surrounded by roasted fruit, including golden crusted, juice seeping quinces. Maybe roasted quince would be good with confit de canard. I do hope so or I might have to start writing ” 50 New and Exciting things to throw a Quince at”
This entry was posted in Autumn, baking, Confit de Canard, Cooking, Digital photography, Expectation, food, Food and Photography, Food photographer, France, Fruit, Goose, Photography, photography course, Photography holiday, Quince, Still life, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged food, style, vacation. Bookmark the permalink.