Guest Post by Lucy Coats
It is January [when she wrote this] and therefore Marmalade is on my mind (and I have a feeling I’m not the only reader-of-Robin’s-blog in that position!). Well–it’s the Making of Marmalade to be precise. I have a Wanton Toast Eater to satisfy–and that means a mountain of the orangey stuff to be made. For me, marmalade is inextricably connected with the backend of the winter season. I don’t like January much. To me it’s a dark and dreary month when the excesses of Christmas and New Year linger only on the waistline and in the wallet, and there’s nothing much to look forward to until the spring flowers start to emerge and it’s time to cosset the roses.
But the sight in my local shop of those misshapen, mottled green-and-orange fruits, (which, if eaten raw would pucker my mouth into disapproving maiden-aunt shape), brighten me up at once. Mix them with water and sugar and heat, and some kind of magical alchemy occurs. That opaque, sour ugliness turns to pots of clear, sparkling beauty which bring a blaze of the sunshine which ripened the original fruit into the kitchen. (You can see my own alchemical results below).
Not making my own marmalade would be a heinous sin. Shop-bought is generally ‘orrible stuff–too sweet, with not enough fruit (and don’t even mention Golden Shred, which is anathema to real marmalade connoisseurs). There is something about that age-old ritual of scraping and shredding and sieving and boiling which is deeply comforting to the soul–and the glorious sweet, orangey smell permeates the house for days. The Wanton (but fussy) Toast Eater is my very own Paddington Bear, (but marginally less messy). No truck with dark Muscovado sugar for him, however–only the finest white cane, and a hint of lemon juice so that the sweetness is tempered. It takes 10lbs (yes–I know I’m old-fashioned in my weighing habits) of fruit and 20lbs of sugar to satisfy his breakfast addiction for a whole year–which is why I clean and recycle all used glass pots with screw-top lids onto a large shelf in the larder.
For years I did all that thing of squeezing the juice and scraping the pith and shredding the peel while the oranges were still in their virgin state, fresh (well, fresh-ish) off the tree–and paid with sore palms, wrecked wrists and stinging fingers. Then my mother-in-law (to whom all credit in this instance) told me about AGA marmalade. Now I plop the weighed whole fruit into a large pan with the requisite amount water, bring to the boil and put it in the Simmering Oven for a couple of hours. Then I leave it overnight to cool. Behold! The fruit is then soft and easy to handle and the whole squeezing business is unnecessary. I just cut them in half, scrape all the insides into the orangey water, and shred the peel into really fine strips (because that’s how the WTE likes it). My favourite recipe is a mix of my mum’s (Prue Coats, who Knows Because She Writes Cookbooks) and the AGA one from my mother-in-law. Happy Marmalading!
Ingredients: 1.5kg/3lbs Seville Oranges, 2.25 litres/4 pints of water, 2.75kg/5 1/2 lbs white granulated sugar, juice of 3 lemons, a small knob of butter
Method: Day 1: Prepare oranges to method above ie put oranges, lemon juice and water in a large pan, bring to boil, cover and set in low oven (say 140 centigrade/Gas 1) for 2-3 hours. Take out and leave overnight in cool place.
Day 2: Put about 4 small saucers into the deep freeze or fridge for later use. Weigh sugar and divide into two large ovenproof bowls and set to warm on very low heat in oven. Take out oranges, reserving water, which should be transferred to a large preserving pan. Halve. Scrape out pips and pith and flesh and put into preserving pan too. Reserve ‘clean’ halves of peel. Now bring the liquid and pippy stuff to the boil and cook for six minutes. Take off the heat, and drain through a sieve (metal is best) into a large pan or bowl. With a ladle or large spoon squash/squeeze all the gluey pectin out into the same bowl, scraping the bottom of the sieve into the water from time to time. It’s hard on the hands and sticky but satisfying. You can add the lemon juice to the pectin mix now. At this point (or before) slice the remaining ‘clean’ halves of peel which remain into thin or thicker, longer or shorter strips as you like. Divide into two halves, and also divide your orangey/lemony/pectiny water into two halves. Now put one half of the peel, along with one half of your liquid and warmed sugar into the preserving pan. Bring to a full rolling boil, skimming off gucky foam occasionally until a set is achieved. Test by dripping a few drops of mix onto your cool saucer and put back in the fridge for a minute or so. If it goes wrinkly when you run a finger lightly over it, you’re there. Add a small knob of butter to the pan and stir in (I don’t know why–but it works brilliantly to clear any remaining scum). Leave for ten minutes to cool a bit and then pour into sterilised hot jars, cover with cling film (saran wrap) and put on the screw tops when cold. Repeat the process with the other half of the marmalade ingredients. You should end up with about 10 kg of marmalade.
PS: Leftovers which don’t fit into the last jar must be spread on a large piece of buttery toast and eaten at once. That’s the Law!
Poor Lucy is in hospital at present for (scheduled) surgery–and it’s going to be a long convalescence. She’s capable of the odd email and tweet but I’m not sure whether she’s fully on line (nor whether she should be!!) for things like blogs and forums. If any of you want to send her good wishes her twitter address is: http://twitter.com/lucycoats Anyone not on Twitter you can email me (nuraddin@robinmckinley.com) and I’ll forward on to Lucy. –Ed
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