As a culinary marriage, it sits alongside our own of a wedge of Wensleydale with a slice of fruitcake or the rare and wonderful combination (at least in my neck of the woods) of Lancashire cheese and eccles cake.

Sweet soft-fleshed quince and blue-veined cheese – a small jump from that other sublime partnership, ripe pears with roquefort. Most of this goes towards making quince jelly, which is excellent with cheese, but this year I put aside two nice big quinces for ginning with.In typical tiki fashion, this cocktail has a very fruity, very boozy base made up of pear nectar, quince syrup, and both light and dark rum. A taste for adventure and discovery runs through all eight generations of the Whitley Neill family tree.

Place half a quince on each of 4 plates, spoon a little syrup over, then add a generous mound of the gorgonzola cream. Poaching leaves you with tender fruit for a pie or tart (or for spooning over oatmeal or yogurt) and a gorgeous syrup that—you guessed it—is great for cocktails.I like the idea of making a tiny parcel of blue cheese, wrapping it in pastry and serving it with membrillo, as quince paste is known, on the side. We combine this with quince juice which adds its fragrant tropical aromas and fruity flavours, while still maintaining the character of a true gin.

Carefully remove your jars from the oven (they will be incredibly hot) and allow them to cool down a little.But no – every quince needs cooking, where its impenetrable flesh will soften almost to jelly and turn the colour of a winter sunset. Although raw quince give off an amazing perfume, they don't reach their full culinary potential until cooked, softening and becoming a deep, rosy hue. The flavour just improves with time so wait at least two months or longer for an intense fruity taste. Place the quince, sugar, spices and vanilla in the jar and top up with gin, up to one inch from the top, making sure all the ingredients are covered.