The quince is an ugly thing; a knobbly old apple-pear, too hard and bitter to eat; a country bumpkin; a coarse relic; perhaps a puzzle to some.
But here's what you do: rub off the fuzz until the waxy skin shines and exhales an orchard air. Chop the fruit into a large pot and add the cores in a muslin sack. Cover it with water to a shallow depth, and cook for 90 minutes or more until the fruit slumps. Strain off the pectin stock, and reduce it rather slowly with equal parts sugar and generous lemon juice. You will get a beautiful, rose-nostalgia jelly, ABOVE.
Now take the spent fruit, and press it through a seive, then reduce it with equal parts sugar, generous lemon juice, and white spices—dried ginger, coriander, and white peppercorns ground together. Cook it as slowly as you can for hours or even days until it's dense enough to ball. Pour it out hot to form a thick slab, and air-dry for days or even weeks. What you will have is quince cheese—membrillo where Spanish is spoken—and it is the heftiest treasure of fall.