Emma Townshend: "Quince is almost impossible to buy and almost never eaten raw"

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In France, they call them les coings. Say it with a nasal Southern accent and it comes out almost like the sound of a duck's quack. At this time of year, you see them pinned with handwritten signs in beautiful round French cursive on the racks of good greengrocers and in village-square markets, golden-yellow and round, like the fast-disappearing sun.










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