Pilfered: The Best of the Medlar Trees

 

Intrepid medlar tree in the snow.

On this latest adventure, The Cambridge Spy veers off onto a more bosky path in honour of the Sidgwick Site medlar tree, a venerable citizen of this fine city currently clinging onto life behind the palisades of a building site. The Spy feared that this entry would be by way of his obituary, and that the distant roar of the chainsaw would soon be upon him, but having spoken to the building contractors, it seems that he has been granted a reprieve (along with a Bhutan pine and a holm oak, but sorry lads, you're not edible, so you stop here). Imperiled free food is a cause close to this gluttonous cheapskate's heart,* and so despite the fact that the medlar-pilfering season is drawing to a close, consider this as both a homage to a fine yet endangered figure of fecundity, and a heads-up for the best to be snaffled in the coming year.

* If you find yourself in The Orchard, look out for the sawn-off ivy around the base of the old pear tree, the result of a midnight liberation raid by candlelight. Nobody messes with the Spy's favourite pear tree and his fruit-bearing abilities, not even ivy...

The medlar tree, a wizened creature with medieval associations, has fruit flatteringly referred to as a 'dog's bottom' on account of its shape, which must be 'bletted' (left to rot) before it produces the fragrant, sweet paste so prized throughout the centuries. This may account for the tree's popularity amongst wasp populations, and the elderly specimen under the spotlight today is no exception, with a magnificently gnarled, droning  paper-globe nestling in its branches. One winter's day, the Spy had snuck into the Sidgwick Site, and was busy scrabbling about in the frosty mud for these little rotten gems, when an elderly academic in tweeds walked past, twinkling, "So, you've discovered the secret of the medlar tree!" His own memory of the tree stretched back to 1960, and he took the opportunity to pass on his own Christmas Day breakfast recipe: roasted medlars with the tops sliced off, filled with cream and sprinkled with brown sugar. In addition, the Spy now presents its own two favourite medlar recipes, designed to preserve the delicate flavour of the fruit throughout the year (and even to preserve the memory of the tree, should the worst come to pass).

Little dogs' bottoms peeping through the snow... 

MEDLAR JELLY  

(Good with meats, cheese, buttered toast, scones, in stews to tenderise the meat)

900g (2lb) medlars, halved

Enough water to cover the fruit in the pan (about 1L / 1.75 pints)

Sugar (650g for every litre of juice)

1 lemon, quartered 

Place the medlars and lemon pieces in a pan and cover with water.

Bring to the boil and simmer with the lid partially on for an hour, stirring occasionally to stop it sticking.

Pour the liquid into a muslin bag/jelly bag/the chopped off toe and leg of a clean pair of tights, and suspend the bag from chair legs/between sink taps/in a colander, and let the juice drip through into a bowl over night.

Measure the volume of juice, place it in a clean pan and boil for 5 minutes, then add the sugar.

When sugar has dissolved, do the wrinkle test to check that it has set (put a blob of jelly on a chilled saucer, place it in the fridge for two minutes, and if it wrinkles when pushed with a finger, it is done).

Pour into sterilised jars (wash the jars, place in a warm oven for 5 minutes until they are dry), put the lid on tightly and cool. If you like a more citrusy tang, place a slice of lemon peel on top of the jelly before sealing.

New-born medlar jellies.

MEDLAR CHUTNEY

(Good with cheese and meats)

6 Medlars, cored and chopped (with their 5 stones removed)

2 large apples, cores and chopped

2 onions, peeled and chopped

225g (1/2 lb) raisins

115g (3/4 lb) sugar

150ml (1/2 pint) vinegar

A few slices of fresh ginger

A cinnamon stick 

A pinch of chilli flakes

1/2 a grated nutmeg

A big pinch of salt

Put everything in a pan and simmer for an hour, stirring occasionally to stop it sticking.

The chutney is ready when it is thick enough to be parted with a spoon leaving the bottom of the pan visible without it closing over.

Pour into sterile jars (see above), screw the lids on tight and cool. 

An army of chutneys lined up for battle. 

So, come late spring, look out for these knobbly, crooked creatures, spiked with their pointy green leaves and covered in papery pink and white blossoms. In the autumn, the leaves take on warm, rusty hues, and their little golden apples start to peep through. After the leaves have fallen, these fruits remain on the branches like burnished Christmas baubles, ready to be picked and left in a bowl to blet until they are soft enough to eat. So to conclude, ladies and gentlemen, the Spy presents the three best medlar trees to be spotted in Cambridge:

1. The Sidgwick Site medlar (off West Road), on the edge of the lawn between the Law Faculty and the English Faculty. Long may his withered branches prosper.

2. The Orchard medlar (in Grantchester), nestling in the corner nearest the field gate and flanked by apple tree guards. 

3. If you find yourself wandering through the university colleges, look out for the medlars in the gardens of Newnham and Trinity. There are bound to be more tucked away in nooks and crannies, so keep a weather-eye open...  

Wasps like medlar trees too.