The magic of membrillo

Membrillo magic? More like meh.

We ordered a cheese platter from Whole Foods for our on-the-road Thanksgiving reunion. It came with a nice selection of cheeses and crackers and a little tin of membrillo, or quince paste. Nobody showed much interest in the membrillo so I tossed it into my suitcase when departing. It’s been on my desk ever since and I occasionally take a little nibble.

And I have to say, what’s the big deal about membrillo?

You would think it’s god’s own nectar based on accolades from its fans. Murray’s Cheese calls it “candy for grownups” and praises its “punchy sweetness”. Forever Cheese extols the “magic of membrillo” and quivers with excitement over the “mystical world of the quince and the much-heralded cheese accompaniment it becomes.” And here’s a guy who loves membrillo so much for its “highly aromatic, floral flavor” that he has planted a quince tree so he can make his own.

This is the tin of membrillo included in our Whole Foods cheese assortment.

To me, meh. I’d much rather have figs or dates, fresh or dried, on my cheese plate. My guess is that the “magic of membrillo” is its high pectin content; ancients discovered they could mix sugar (or, more likely, honey) with the bitter fruit juice and walla, it would set up into a semi-solid consistency with a dramatic pink/orange hue.

Can we think of anything else with a high pectin content that sets up into a gel? That’s right, cranberries. What if the Fertile Crescent had run through New England instead of the middle east? Then we’d all be praising the genius of the bright red accompaniment to sharp cheeses. In fact I have a can of cranberry sauce left over from Thanksgiving and I’m going to try that next time I serve up some stinky cheese and crackers!