Tracing Quince: A Compote Story

Hi, I'm making quince compote today. Or, by the time you read this, I would've already made it, uploaded a picture of it, and perhaps, devoured it. But for now, I'm wondering if I should have it with oatmeal or yoghurt, and that's something only the future me will know. But for now, and I mean, in this present moment, I find myself in awe by how much I managed not to eat today, confused by how that happened. If February is about mindful eating, how can I forget so fast to eat more mindfully, to start thinking about food more mindfully? It's not even the second week and I had already started to relapse into old habits of consumption. 

Yet, here I am, writing this, allowing myself to come back to what I had originally started, slowly, taking baby steps towards finishing projects I have on hold, like my podcast, like all the instagram and tiktok pages I opened but always forgot to upload anything on. Baby steps, like going to the gym for half an hour, and coming back already exhausted badly wanting to smoke, something I told myself I'd quit too. But hey, baby steps, towards everything I envision for myself. Things that seem so out of reach, existing within a vast realm of possibilities. Just like this quince compote, placed now in the present I am writing this in, I wonder how it will come out; will it be soft enough, will it have the same perfect texture as the one I made before? Will it be sweet enough, will adding cardamom this time ruin the flavour or enhance it? All these questions on my mind to find ways to enhance recipes, I enter into a creative flow most when I am in the kitchen. It is no doubt that cooking is a process, a process of lamination perhaps, with many layers to it, with many pasts and presents and futures. The kitchen is a world of endless possibilities, for success, and for failure. Most importantly, for fun and experimentation. I don't know how I went from taking baby steps to quince to cooking, but stay with me here. It's all about the quince compote, and how it's so attached to memory. 

Memories of apple compote my Austrian grandmother used to make growing up, it was the only way I'd eat apples. Not a big fan of them, never was, it's something about their texture that throws me off, paired with a hard and sturdy exterior... it's just weird. Quince however was different to me, I'd love eating it as a child. It brings back memories of Amman, and the UAE. I thought by mixing both together, I'd have the perfect combination of pasts I get to enjoy in the present. 

I've been developing a lot of recipes lately, the only thing is that, I forget to write them down. I even have a cute recipe book for it, which I found in a flea market here in Vienna. But hey, baby steps again. Perhaps this is yet another goal for February, to document my memories more mindfully. To document the mixtures of memories that come out in the forms of food I consume. We essentially consume memories when we consume food.

Speaking of which, and I know I've been speaking about it a lot, but I can't wait to share my food memories of Bangladesh with you soon. I'm just giving them time to ferment. 

Anyways, I decided to have the quince compote with yoghurt. I also decided to be easier on myself, to believe in the baby steps I'm taking, especially in this food journey. I thought today about how the less I eat, the more mindfully I cook. Then I thought about how fucked that idea might be, considering that I am choosing to eat less in order to attain something desirable to society, and I couldn't help but feel an immense sense of guilt towards the person I am today, as in, the fat one. If guilt will be my driver then I do not want to continue on this journey, and a part of me is still struggling to find ways to love myself. The less I eat, the more mindfully I cook. But who has the privilege to cook more mindfully? As most are starving around the world, I wonder what form of mindful eating I am trying to preach. Guilt, once again, continues to haunt me. These are all raw thoughts typed on a keyboard, fyi, and I do not intend on changing them. If I preach letting go of guilt, I must also share with you my journey of how I too struggle with letting go of it myself. Guilt is useless, I know that for a fact. But a part of me can't help but wonder if there are parts of guilt we should be holding onto. Can guilt be a driver towards a better world? I don't know that answer, yet. But a big part of me intuitively says no. 

I don't want to get too much into this now, because I'm getting hungry. A feeling I've been craving to have a lot lately. As Ramadan approaches, I wonder how fasting will help me reflect on that hunger, how it too is a blessing, because it makes us reflect on our blessings. I don't ever want to lose my hunger for anything in the world, not for weight loss, or unattainable health standards, or diets. After complaining about how much weight I have gained from all the amazing food I was having in Bangladesh, I got food poisoning and lost my appetite for an entire week, only eating biscuits with tea. I don't ever want to go through that again, the feeling of not wanting to eat. Perhaps it is fear that's my biggest demotivator, fear of losing my appetite, my passion in this world to weight loss. I know I don't have to compromise on flavour when it comes to eating healthy, but a part of me that grew up with diet culture is still traumatized by raw vegetables, and I know I need to grow up and get over it. Baby steps, easier on myself. 

How do I eat more mindfully without thinking about food all the time? How do I lose weight if I think about food all the time? All questions on my mind. Why do these two things have to oppose each other? I think about food all the time anyway! It's part of my practice and my being. No wonder I take my art so seriously. 

Anyways, I'm logging off now. The quince I made last time was better, but maybe because I skipped on the sugar this time. I leave you with a recipe of quince compote: 

1 Quince 

4 pods cardamom 

3 cloves

1 cinammon stick 

1/2 lemon juice 

1 tbsp honey 

some vanilla 

boiling water