Broaching Passion

Let's talk about passion. That's what everyone wants, right? Everyone. In interviews and applications, in their friends and social groups, in their romantic lives, passion, it's one of the most coveted characteristics. Somewhere near in that list lie things like sincerity and honesty and skill, which are are all important, no qualms about that, but they're often secondary. Maybe it's because there's some assumption out there that passionate people are honest, a guilt by association thing. Maybe. Maybe it's because passionate people are more fun to be around, always on fire for one thing or another, socializing here and there, spreading their do-good vibe all around. Maybe. Either way, people seem to think that it's only worth investing effort and giving opportunity to someone who is truly passionate about their goals (which to a certain extent is true, because passionate people will never give up), and that someone who is passionate about their goals always displays it to the world in some mysterious inherent vibe that can be rendered from the fat of cryptic behaviors.

This is going to be a longer post, not only because there are two recipes contained in here, but also because there are things I need to talk out  Although I've been on the path to a healthcare career for a very long time, people have always, and I mean always, questioned my passion.

Even my parents tell me that I seem to lack passion for it, and at a couple of recent meetings with some academic advisers, this question came up again and again. I don't know how to prove my passion to someone (when that shouldn't even matter at all) beyond showing them that I'm still on the same exact path and have been for the past ten years of my life. I don't know how to show this passion in my words or in my conversation, I don't give off enough vibe, I don't think. I'm generally a pretty calm person when it comes to discussing my career path. I think the decision to pursue a career should be made calmly and rationally, and that the passion bit shouldn't be anything more than just pure, steady, want. I think the pure want should be enough, and I also think logically, the amount at which I display my pure want is perfectly fine. On my current resume, I'm not yet qualified to find a job in the clinical world, so I only find things where I float on the outer edges. All this floating on the sidelines is unsatisfying, so if I was still all aflame passionate after all these years about floating on the sidelines, it would be insane and inhuman of me to have faded in fire just a little bit, I think.

Moving on. I'm dragging my feet here but honestly, it's at a point where I'm beginning to feel the influence of uncertainty. I've held on so tightly to this ideal for so long, thinking I had a very clear vision of why I wanted to pursue this path, despite the initial failures, thinking I knew exactly I wanted to do with my life. I was drawn to the high speed, high pressure, high responsibility natures of the task, thought it was a great fit for my ideals, thought it was my place in this world. Yet now, as so much time has passed and this question of passion is thrown at me more and more often, as I've lived a little more, I'm beginning to fret more than usual. Are the years of my childish denials about myself coming to an end? From all sides, my anxiety builds and I begin to realize that maybe I'm not a high speed, high pressure, high impact kind of person. I really don't like over-analyzing all that much another. Have I stayed here because, besides this 10 year pursuit, I have no other passions, because perhaps I don't even know how to define such a concept? I also realize that my dedication to this 10 year pursuit is so so ground in reason, that I worry that maybe it has become the antithesis of passion. Maybe pure want is no longer feasible in this world, maybe my passion isn't a good fit for my sanity and lesser desires.

I've been questioned, and I've fallen apart. After the most recent conversation, I felt as though the last string of support I thought I had, is now a bridge rent in two. Although I know I still have my base, oh it's so easy to slip into the comfort of what I have wanted for so long already, is it really time to make some concessions? Or are these changes less so concessions, and more so improvements, better ideas...dare I even say, smarter choices for who I really am? Perhaps it is time to accept I no longer fit the mold of the high-everything achiever, and I should just settle for something that's more my dulled speed. I don't know, and even after all this time, I still have come to no decision.

Persimmon and quince, for your reference.

I chose to pair this subject of career pathway ponderings with two different types of complicated fruit, quince and persimmon, for a variety of reasons, mostly metaphorical. Let's start with quince. Quince is often made into a fruit paste (membrillo) that's often paired with Manchego cheese, and the fruit paste takes quite a long time to make. Despite the simplicity of its recipe (just quinces and sugar, really), a lot of effort goes into putting it together, and the result produces something that isn't necessarily of the pow(!)-in-your-face-spicy-must-eat-all-the-time-nature, but the flavors are pleasantly intense and successful in their own ways. Subtle success, if you get what I mean. I see it as a bit of a drawn-out, melodramatic metaphor for my state of being at this point in time. As a fruit, quince is inedible unless it's cooked to edible texture, and its flavor is so tart that it's worse than lemons. In fact, quince is almost a useless fruit unless it's cooked, and you have to see past the rock-hard nature to find the potential in its original form: high pectin content and color-changing pulp. Its high pectin content makes quince an ideal fruit for jams, jellies, baking and poaching; it will hold its shape, and it won't seep out so much water during the cooking process that it ruins your pastry. Another perk is the color. Raw, its flesh is a tan whitish color, but upon slow cooking over the stove, quince takes on a rose-red tint that becomes even more purple the longer it is cooked. Bringing it all to a close, quince is difficult to handle at first, but with long manipulation and dedication (though nothing novel in the recipe, mind you, just stirring on the stove), it turns into something that does all right in its own way, bringing magic when paired with other complements like Manchego cheese. On its own, although quince is not on the top of the fruit game, it's certainly not on the bottom and certainly doesn't do too bad in the long run. Sometimes I wish, oh so want, this fruit to have a recipe that's as competitive as apple pie, but pure want doesn't make it true. People have tried to make quince into something that it's not, and an internet search will come up pretty blank or rife with failed recipes. There's just not a lot of room in the quince's character for much more than what it was meant to be. Itself, only in different forms (paste, jam, jelly), with its non-fiery, muted flavors.

Persimmons have a similar story, although they are less inedible than quinces. Two types of persimmons exist, fuyu and hachiya persimmons. The former is flat and squat and edible pretty much immediately once orange, and the latter is acrorn-shaped, astringent and edible only when so soft it's borderline rotten (then it can be eaten like pudding). I'm a fan of the former, but fuyu persimmons have the same lonely quality as quinces. You can't do much to them beyond cutting them up and eating them, and trying to find a recipe that morphs them into anything else just comes up blank or as a fail...unless it's a paste, jam, or jelly (mostly jams, because persimmons have a lower pectin content than quinces and don't firm up as well as pastes). Persimmons are a beautiful fruit though, and although lacking potential for change like quinces, manage to hold their unique own in the fruit chain. It's a muted flavor, a muted passion, but still does all right. Although I'd rather just eat them as they are, I will admit though, that persimmons have a short perfect period. They ripen quickly once the process starts, which is why I took these softer persimmons (I like them when they're crunchy) and made them into jelly.

Overall point, being, muted passion is doing pretty all right in my world.

I'll bring this to a lighter close. Although I have no stories of persimmons (besides an old Chinese myth about how some monkey taunted crabs by climbing trees, as crabs can't do, and eating persimmons in their faces), I do have a funny story about these quinces. I never really knew what a quince was until maybe three years ago. I had heard of them in pies and read about them in books, but I barely recognized them as fruit and just thought that maybe quince just indicated something minced (as I had heard of quince in minced meat pies). One day, I was walking on the college campus, late afternoon, past the house of the university president, when I came across a man standing beneath a tree in their front yard, looking upwards and poking at the trees' leaves with a large stick. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was gathering quinces(?!), and he pointed to the large green fruit hanging above. In other words, he was stealing fruit from the president's garden. I laughed and asked him what a quince was, but he was so focused on knocking down the fruit, that he pretty much ignored me. I watched him gather a couple and walk away. Ah, humans. About a week ago, Pinky and I were walking the dog on the same campus, passing by the same president's garden, when I happened to look up and see that the quince tree from my memories was still there, and it still had fruit on it! Just three quinces, hanging super high up. I thinking that the man with the stick from years past had probably already been there and gathered the low-hanging fruit. With me anxiously checking for security guards (it was the middle of the night at 2 AM, yes we walk the dog late sometimes), Pinky stood beneath the tree shaking the living daylights out of it and throwing objects upwards in hopes of dislodging the quinces. One, plop, Two, plop. Three just wouldn't give. He climbed up the tree, dangling from one arm and one leg, swiping at the fruit. Three fell into my hands just as a security guard rounded the corner in his little car.

Smiles all around.

Quince Membrillo
pair with salty cheeses, like Manchego

3 large quinces
water
3-4 C granulated sugar
zest of 1/2 lemon
juice of 1/2 a lemon
vanilla bean (or vanilla extract)

Chop the quinces into smaller chunks (do not peel off the skin) and remove seeds and stems. Place in boiling water with lemon zest and vanilla bean, boiling until quince chunks can be easily pierced with a fork. I left the pot boiling for about an hour and my quince almost turned into mush, so keep an eye on it because if too much water evaporates off (as did in mine), it will be more difficult to get the color you want and your membrillo will be a bit granier and darker. Let cool once the quince is soft.

Remove the vanilla bean and puree the quince, liquid, and lemon zest until smooth. If you are using vanilla extract instead of vanilla bean, add it at this point. Measure how much puree you have. In my case, I used 3 large quinces, and came out with 3 1/4 C of quince puree. Add equal parts granulated sugar. Simmer this mixture on the stove, stirring occasionally to prevent it from burning or sticking. At first, it will look like nothing is happening, but as the hour passes, the color will begin to change and it will become rosy and dry out a bit. Don't stir it too much (don't stir it like risotto), because I think that messes with how it cooks and the mixture will dry out without the color changing much. Once it can be stirred as a mass and is glossy in color, remove from the stove. I cooked mine a little longer so I could get a deeper red color, but this backfired on me because it was almost too paste-like to pour, and after baking in the over, got a much darker color than I wanted.

Lay out parchment paper or aluminum in a desired size pan of choice. Heavily butter the parchment paper or aluminum. Then pour the sticky mixture into the pan and smooth out the top. Place in a stove, heated to 150 degrees or less, and let the paste dry out (I'd say bout 30 minutes). I left my membrillo in for about an hour, and the bottoms turned dark brown in color and burned, as you can see in the picture. It didn't change the flavor much, thank god, but my membrillo was too hard and too dark, I'm pretty sure. Notes being, don't overcook on the stove or in the oven.  Let the membrillo cool completely before cutting into smaller sizes and placing in the fridge. Apparently, you can store it for several months.

Persimmon Jam
 pairs well with more pungent cheeses, like Asiago

4 Fuyu persimmons
juice of 1 medium lemon
1/4 C sugar
1 teaspoon roasted cinnamon
1/2 packet of gelatin
cold water

Peel the persimmons and cut into chunks. Puree in a food processor and add the juice of the 1 medium lemon. Transfer to a stove and add sugar and cinnamon to desired taste. Simmer on the stove until drier and more paste-like in consistency.

Sprinkled 1/2 a packet of gelatin in cold water, then let it sit for 1 minute. Then add the liquid to the hot simmering persimmon mixture and stir. Stir and simmer for another 10 minutes or so. Let cool and transfer to a jar and put in the refrigerator, to let the jam set overnight.