So, the book-buying brownies that infest Half Price Books managed to pull me into the store... not once, but twice. Behold the fruits of the latest kidlit-purchasing orgy:
This pile represents about two-thirds of the total volume of books purchased. I would probably be more ashamed of my piggy book-hoarding self, but some of these will be bound for a certain little volunteer library in short order... so I feel kinda-sorta justified... kinda.
Perched atop this teetering pile is a lovely golden quince. I just started reading about quinces recently and they sounded oddly intriguing, and then at Safeway what to my wondering eyes should appear but two of these mellow pineapple-scented beauties. I took this as a sign that I should purchase them. Their destiny is to be slowly poached and consumed with much delight. Also, quite a while back, I picked up some membrillo at a Latino market and have been slipping it into things... served with cheese, as recommended; diced small and added to honey yogurt; etc. This bears repeating. Why don't we Americans do more things with quinces?