Quinces

The Millisons, who live in my village, have a quince tree and in a good year I am given some. The aroma of quinces which then pervades my house is both comforting and seductive. Poached and bottled, they are a glowing pink to delight the larder; baked in the oven and then scraped from the skin, beaten with brown sugar and served with cream, they are comforting indeed. But for me they work perhaps best of all in this dish with raisins.