Lady Marmalade



The abundance of pungent Seville oranges in greengrocers for sixty pence per pound can only mean one thing: 't is the season for making marmalade.

 

 

 

Seville oranges seem to be the orangest oranges. They are knobbly, not especially juicy and very bitter. Yet these qualities seem to impart the best flavour and texture for marmalade.

Marmalade is one of those uniquely British entities that I love. It reminds me of hotel breakfasts-which is a wonderful reminder on a wintry Sunday morning when I'm padding around the house in my slippers clutching part of the Observer. Picture the hot, crusty, hand-cut toast, slathered with slightly-salted butter and adorned with golden, orange shreds. To me, this is utter dreaminess.

 

 

I follow the Delia Smith school of thought when it comes to this precious English preserve. There are certain recipes in my life that always have to be Delia: Christmas cake, roast turkey and cheese scones to name but a few; marmalade is one of these.

I double the quantities, but I use two preserving pans for each quantity. The danger of overloading a jam pan is that it takes hours to set and what you gain in quantity, you lose in hours of your life.

 

The recipe for one quantity (5/6 jars) is:

 

2lb Seville oranges

4 pints water

1 lemon

4lb sugar

 

Method:

Cut the oranges in half. Squeeze out the juice of the all the oranges and the lemon and pour through a sieve into the preserving pan. The idea is that you collect and save the pips and pith in a sieve to help the setting process later. Set aside the sieve and add the water to the preserving pan. Scoop out the worst of the pith from the orange halves (compost your lemon skin unless you want to save it for a lemon cake or save it to flavour a roast chicken). Place the scooped out pith into the sieve with the pips.

Next, cut the halved orange skins into quarters and shred: chunky or fine, it's up to you. Chuck the shreds of orange into to the pan with the juice and water. Place the pips and pith into a muslin or jelly bag and tie up. Chuck the little bag of pips into your pan too. In case you are wondering-the pips and pith are full of pectin-the magic ingredient that will make your marmalade set. This is released into your liquor as you heat it up.

Boil the little golden shreds of orange in the juice and water for two hours. Do not add the sugar at this stage. After two hours your shreds should be soft and becoming slightly transparent.

 

The shredded peel before boiling.

 

My jelly bag full of pips and pith is suspended in a cluttered sea of shreds.

 

After two hours, take out the muslin bag and cool. Squeeze out the white, gloopy pectin from your pith bag into the pan. Add the sugar and bring to a rapid boil. Depending on your cooker and pan, it could take between 20 minutes and 1 hour to reach setting point. (Look up how to test for setting point if not sure) Make sure you have some clean, hot (10 minutes at 100 C in the oven) jars ready. I strategically bought my husband a jam funnel for Christmas. This makes life so much easier when ladling this glistening sticky concoction into your little jars; no sloppy mess or sticky dribbles!

 

 Once you have put your marmalade in the jars, screw your lid on tightly straight away with the help of a tea towel or oven gloves- it is too hot for hands!

Don't even attempt to put labels on until your jars have cooled and you've wiped them with a damp cloth.

 

 I was delighted to find this Cath Kidston preserve labelling kit in my Christmas stocking this year. Instant pretty jars to ensure you are never short of a lovely homemade gift to present to friends and loved ones.

 

 These stout little vintage Kilner jars are for family use. No need for a fancy lid cover-just a nice wide neck to allow in many butter knives at breakfast time.

 

 If you save smallish jars, it doesn't cost you much much to give them as presents.

 

 

 It was a busy day yesterday and aside from the marmalade, I made cheese and onion rolls-that almost didn't get their picture taken  due to the hungry hoards.

 

 A wholemeal loaf kept the rolls company for a while.

 

 A packet of dates leftover from the Christmas period inspired me to knock up a Delia Smith sticky date cake, the perfect accompaniment to my new favourite tipple: Lapsang Souchong. As children we used to call this 'kipper tea'-because of its smokiness-it doesn't have a hint of fish, honestly. Just really smokey, refreshing and alternative.

 

This is such a moist fruit cake and perfect for my hungry husband who comes in from the snow after chopping wood, heading in the pantry direction with a dangerously famished intention in his eyes. The perfect slice of cake with a mug of tea.

 

Delia dictates:

110g raisins

225g pitted dates-chopped

175g sultanas

110g currants

275g margerine

275ml water

400g tin condensed milk

150g plain flour

150g wholemeal flour

pinch salt

3/4 teaspoon bicarbonate soda

1 generous tablespoon marmalade (see above)

 

Preheat oven to 170C

 

Method:

Throw all the fruit, margerine, condensed milk and water in a pan. Bring to the boil, stirring regularly. Simmer for just 3 minutes. Pour into a large mixing bowl and cool for 30 mins. Sir in the flours, bicarbonate soda, salt and marmalade. Spoon the mixture into a greased and lined 2lb loaf tin or 8 inch square cake tin. Cover the mixture with a double layer of greaseproof paper with a couple of 1 inch slits in-this prevents the top of the cake burning. Bake for 2 1/2 hours. Cool for 5 mins before turning onto a wire rack. This cake will keep for several weeks in an airtight container-if it doesn't get eaten before then!

 All of this productivity is due to the current climate. Rarely does our house look like a Christmas card-but it does right now. Long walks, sledging and baking are compulsory whilst the garden lies sleeping beneath its white blanket.

 

 Big blue North Norfolk skies and snowy farm tracks are a perfect setting for Miss DB to take out her sledge.

 

 The medieval estate church looks stunning surrounded in a white carpet.

 

Our house and the church balanced at the brink of the field, the resting place of a Norman village whose remains are nothing more than the occasional lucky beep on the farmer's metal detector.

  

 The track to civilisation.

 

 

I love the intensity of the sky. When clear, there is no difference between a layer of snow or two feet of golden corn. The sky is still vast and blue.

 

I love it when the county freezes and everything is covered in clean, white snow. I find myself dreaming of Narnia, contemplating the appearence of Mr Tumnus and hankering after the hot chocolate and Turkish delight offered by the White Witch in her sledge. When the snow turns muddy and begins to melt, I wish it would go away instantly and make way for spring, birdsong and the promise of new growth.

There is something so wonderful and a bit bonkers about having exotic, cheap Seville oranges to make this deliciously English preserve in the depth of such dormancy.

Now is the time for tea and toast. Until next time.. x

Glad tidings of comfort and joy

Happy new year everyone! I hope you have all had a joyful Christmas. It has been so long since my last entry that I have a lot of areas to cover, from the more sensitive topic of the turkeys to the more creative project of homemade cards and gifts. My photographs span the last month and show aspects of our traditional Norfolk Christmas.

 

 

My home is not very clean or tidy. This is mainly due to lots of children, two open fires and a solid fuel stove. Thick layers of coal dust mix with toys out of place, crayons, lego, a stinky dog, various rescue cats and me-trying to cook. At Christmas time, we always have a real Christmas tree from Salle estate, as well as boughs of holly cut from the hedgerows around our house. Being teachers, we never decorate until we break up from school, drawing a firm line between work and holiday. The final day of term is usually a half day. On my way home from work I pick up a tree and a bottle of port. The afternoon is always spent putting up the tree, playing carols on the radio and decorating the house. For me, this signifies the onset of close family time, cooking and full-on Christmassy feelings.

 

Fresh holly mixed with fairy lights and carols in the background.

 

 

For the first time, I have attempted lino cutting as a method for creating my own Christmas cards. In the past I have used mixed media and textiles so this was uncharted territory. Browsing the Internet, I settled on a few designs I felt I could make my own. The weird thing about cutting the lino is remembering to leave what you want and cut away what you don't. The whole pattern is the reverse of how you imagine it.

 Black against white and white against black proved to be the most effective colour scheme.

 

My most ambitious print was a thrush against a winter background. An R became my 'tag'.

 

This time of year is a time of plenty-thanks to my dad, a retired teacher, who has become a kind of professional beater. I can't remember when I became the person who was able to hang, pluck and gut the feathered bounty that feeds upon the crops and maize of our local fields. Certainly this wasn't me fifteen years ago. I have become a person who, with the responsibility of parenthood and country living, feels that we should all face up to the meat that we eat. I also don't say 'no' to anything free! Whilst the game and shooting industry in the countryside is often associated purely with the upper classes, this is far from the case. Local businesses, farm workers, retired folk, teenagers and local characters are represented in the shooting community. The meat that comes from the shoot is local, free range, traceable and 'farm to fork' in every sense of the term. Game meat is leaner, more flavoursome and more seasonal than any other meat at this time of the year. To me, a pheasant casserole is more 'right' than grilled chicken breasts, steamed fish or asparagus tart. I want my family to eat what is in season. It is the time for root vegetables and brassicas to accompany game birds. Mashed swede with butter and plenty of white pepper, roasted parsnips, turnip, shallots and swede marinated in rosemary and garlic deserve right of place with a pigeon carbonade. That's not to say salad is out of bounds. Homemade coleslaw utilises  seasonal winter cabbage, carrots and onions. Mixed with a good helping of mayonnaise and a little garlic and pepper, crunchy textures of raw vegetables cut through the richness of seasonal meat.

Yes, if you want it for free, you need to be prepared to pluck the birds and do a bit of GCSE biology to take out its innards. Before you know it, you will have neat cuts of meat that look like you bought them from the butcher's. If you can't face this and are prepared to spend 3 or 4 quid, you can buy game birds very cheaply and oven ready.

 

 

No white Christmas but snow drapes the sash windows. Simple crocheted snowflakes from an Attic24 pattern.

 

Nigella Lawson's Christmas Rocky Road definitely has a height restriction-adults only! Expensive ingredients but simple to make, this chocolate treat makes the perfect homemade gift for friends and relations. No baking, just stirring and chilling, finishing with a dusting of snowy icing sugar.You only need cut them into little chocolate bitesize pieces-therefore you get plenty for your money.

 Simply scrunch the pieces of rocky road into bundles of greaseproof paper and finish with a homemade gift tag and some silver ribbon.

I made a small star lino cut to utilise offcuts of card for gift tags.

 

Thanks to granny's clever shopping, my children always have beautiful advent calendars by http://www.phoenix-trading.co.uk/web/corp/?sortorder=1&itemsperpage=12&bid=0445d7181b581a7f034761ff2e0f2d93e1e5f5ea 

These three dimensional calendars are full of illustrative detail without a nasty cheap chocolate in sight.

As I mentioned before, we always have a real tree. The fragrant smell of the pine sap belongs to our family Christmases. And-I am one of those worthy, fussy types who genuinely believes if you want a Christmas tree, have a tree, not a combination of green plastic and wire that pretends to be a tree.

 

 Our decorations aren't matching colour schemes that compliment our curtains or armchairs. The tree, like many of my like-minded friends' trees, is full of mismatched, eclectic family memories. Homemade gifts from friends sit next to sparkly pine cones created by all of my children when they were at nursery school. Old 1940s decorations that were my nan's accompany wooden angels and soldiers collected on family holidays from times gone by. For me, the tree represents the family; past, present and future, not a preoccupation with expensive interior design.

 

 

 

 

Several years ago, I made this stuffed heart and star bunting to adorn the mantelpieces, fireplaces and beams. 

 

Finished with a button and some pretty ribbon, they come out every year to make the hearth more cosy and homespun. 

 

 

The fresh green hope of bowlfuls of hyacinth bulbs signify new year and the (slightly forced) need for spring and growth.

As with every year, I never know what colour they will end up.

 

Happy new year!

Talking Turkeys

For those of you who remember our day-old turkey chicks that we reared under lamps in July, you will be pleased to hear they enjoyed a summer with the free range of my parents' garden. Fresh air, grass beneath their feet, a high calorie diet of kitchen scraps and grower feed was arguably preferable to their intensively farmed, indoor-raised fate, had we not taken them in. Whilst they were always destined for our table, at least the meat has zero food miles and is ethically and humanely reared. This was reflected in the delicious, succulent meat. Rather than 'Farm to Fork,' this was 'Garden to Fork.'

 

Many of us, myself and my parents included, always find it difficult to say goodbye to animals that have been part of our lives, regardless of the fact that these are farm animals, bred for food. The important thing to remember is that they are not pets, and whilst their life was healthy and happy, they are food as much as any meat we find in a supermarket or local butcher shop. I would rather know my meat than detatch myself from it by buying cuts of intensively farmed meat in polystyrene trays from a supermarket. But that's just me.

 

 

See the next post for turkey leftover ideas.