Quince

There’s no substitute for quince, which is closely related to apples and pears. If you can’t find it fresh, look for a high-quality quince jam from a Middle Eastern market.

Pears and apples may get all the spotlight, but we're jonesing for rosy and aromatic quince this fall.

If you want a shortcut for this quince and chamomile panna cotta recipe, purchase quince paste at a specialty shop and heat it slowly to create a syrup, then simply spoon it over the custards.

If you can’t find Garrotxa cheese, use another salty, semifirm Spanish cheese, such as Manchego, instead (but be warned: Gato chef Bobby Flay may not approve).

Quince is like a special giant fuzzy apple, worth taking advantage of when in season.

This isn't just a recipe for any ole ham sandwich. It's a Monte Cristo sandwich, and that's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

With different hues of orange and gold, this dish makes a great holiday side.

Poach quince in rosé with a dash of cocktail bitters and a few warm spices, then assemble into a tart with almond paste using an upside-down, Tatin-style method.

This version of the flaky holiday pastry is made with a cream cheese dough and filled with quince paste, walnuts, and demerara sugar. It’s simple to make—and perfectly buttery.

Spicy chorizo, sweet membrillo, and nutty manchego bring Spanish flair to everyone's favorite finger food.

My mother-in-law makes this stew almost every Shabbat because it is my sister-in-law's favorite! Whenever I buy quinces, I have to hide them because my children love to eat them raw! This fruit is not really meant to be eaten raw…it is meant for jams and stews. I guess my kids must be "hard-core" Persians! The quince tree originates from Iran and Caucasus. The Romans used its oil for perfume, while the Greeks enjoyed it cooked.

From Lecce and its environs, quince paste—a deeply bronzed jelly molded into plump squares and tucked inside wooden fruit boxes—is our favorite Puglian treasure to take back to Tuscany. Here follows a lovely sort of pudding made from quince that, though it offers a less-dense dose of the fruit, yields one with all its beautiful, apple-wine sort of autumn savor.

This is not your mild-mannered pork chop! The pork porterhouse is two cuts of meat in one—just like its better-known cousin the beef porterhouse. From the short loin of the pig, the pork porterhouse (porkerhouse?) consists of the soft, luscious tenderloin on one side of the bone and the meatier loin on the other. The classic American accompaniment to pork is, of course, apples. But in place of the traditional applesauce, I like to serve these hefty chops with the time-honored duo of apples and potatoes. Called deux pommes, or two apples—one from a tree and one from the earth—the two are sautéed together until crispy and golden brown. To show off more of fall’s cornucopia, I’ve added quince, “Eve’s apple,” to the mix. Slathering the chops with quince jam (membrillo in Spanish cuisine, cotognata in Italian) is a sophisticated nod back to that applesauce. Be sure to cut the quince, apples, and potatoes into similar-sized pieces, so when they’re cooked they all look the same. The mystery is part of the fun; there’s no telling which bite will be which pomme.