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