My parents eat a lot of marmalade. They like the dark stuff,
not any of your Golden Shred nonsense. Real
marmalade. Do young people eat marmalade, or even jam anymore? Breakfast,
followed by a chaser of toast and marmalade, has been the standard morning routine
in our house for as long as I can remember. Although seeing as I generally eat
my body weight in potatoes, I’ve never joined in the marmalade ritual.
I have never made marmalade before; I’ve made buckets of jam
in my time, but haven’t gone near the bitter stuff. This is down to the fact
that I didn’t really rate it much. But last year, someone gave us a jar of homemade marmalade; I couldn’t resist trying it- and it was delicious!
Dark and syrupy, not too sweet… Much better than the stuff you get in little
hotel jam pots at breakfast.
Living in Leicester with its amazing market means I’ve been on
the lookout for the elusive Seville orange for over a month, just so that I can
take jars home in a blaze of marmalade glory. It’s been like hunting for a rare
Pokémon; lumpy oranges out of the corner of my eye have made my heart race for
a few moments before I realise they’re not special at all, just lumpy. Classic
Magikarp moment. But cue a visit to the market last week and I struck (orange)
gold! One stall was selling late Seville oranges, piled high and knobbly as
anything. I was so excited I crushed an old lady behind me and had to be
physically restrained by Roger. True story.
So here’s my attempt at making marmalade. I must have looked
at twenty different recipes but there was so
much sugar- I know they’re bitter oranges but still! I took a sugar-based risk
and it worked; I think as long as you start with at least a 1:1 ratio of
oranges to sugar, it will preserve well. After that, add to taste. When it
comes to the thickness of your shreds, that’s also up to you. We’re a chunky
family, so I wasn’t too precise with this, but ended up snipping my shreds with
scissors! One of the things I’ve learnt is that you can’t make marmalade in a
rush. This whole process took about 6 hours; you need to boil the peel-strips
for a good two hours until soft, as they won’t soften any more once you add the
sugar. After that, it’s boiling for another 2 hours…
It’s also worth pointing out that numerous sources insist
that Seville oranges in good condition actually freeze well; I bought enough
oranges to give this recipe another go in the future.
Makes 6 jars.
You’ll also need a piece of muslin, or a really clean tea
towel.
Ingredients:
6 Seville Oranges (around 1.1kg for me)
1 small lemon
4 pints/2 litres cold water
Preserving sugar (good for fruits with Pectin), I used 1.3-5kg
in this case but use it to taste.
1-2 tbsp Brown sugar
Method:
Before you start, make sure you have a pan large enough for
all your ingredients (I used a wok- classic student…WHY DID I LEAVE MY JAM PAN
AT HOME?).
1) Wash the oranges and cut them in half. Squeeze
out their juice into a large bowl, pips and all. Tip this sludge into your
piece of muslin and secure with a piece of string, making sure to collect the
juice in your preserving pan. The pips have such a lot of pectin in them that
you need to boil them with your shreds!
2)
Set to work slicing your oranges to the desired
thickness. Like I said, I went for chunky but the shreds really don’t break
down as you cook them, so be prepared to attack with scissors later when they’re
softening. The chunkier the shreds, the longer it will take to soften.
3)
Pile the orange shreds into your preserving pan
with the muslin bag of pips and squeeze over the juice of the lemon.
4)
Pour over the water and bring to a rolling boil
for two hours, until the peel is lovely and soft and the water has reduced by
about one third.
5)
When you’re absolutely sure that your orange
shreds are as soft as you’d like them in the finished product, put the oven on
and warm the sugar in a baking dish. Can’t remember why, but it’s what you do!
6)
Remove the muslin bag of pips from the pan and
squeeze out as much of the syrupy pip-juice as you can. Mmm, pectin…
7)
Add the warmed sugar to the pan and stir over a gentle heat until dissolved.
8)
At this point, I tasted the mixture and thought
it was on the edge of being too sweet, so squeezed in a little bit of lemon
juice.
9)
Once the sugar has completely dissolved, bring
to a gentle boil and leave for 1 ½-¾ hours, until the colour has darkened.
It will simmer merrily for as long as you want it to;
when it’s as sweet and dark as you want it, all you have to do is raise the
temperature to thicken, bringing it to setting point. Keep a plate cold in the fridge
in order to test for setting. It’s ready to jar up when a dollop of marmalade
wrinkles as you push your finger through it on the cold plate. That’s science
for you!
10)
When you’re (finally) ready to jar up, don’t
panic! I did, but ignore me. Pour the marmalade into sterilised jars (you know,
wash in warm soapy water, then dry in a very low oven for 20 mins).
11)
Remembering something that Fabrice taught us
about “sealing” at Leeds City College, I put the lids on and quickly inverted
the jars. Then left them for an hour- which you’re not supposed to do. Right at
the last hurdle, I ballsed it up and now I have seemingly gravity-defying
marmalade- there is a half-inch gap at the BASE of my jars! Here’s a tip; turn
the fricking jars the right way up again after a few minutes before leaving to
cool.
So after all that effort, was it
worth it? I want DARKER marmalade next time! And I boiled it for about two minutes longer than I should have done, so it's a thick set. But I really, really enjoyed
spending a Sunday afternoon mucking about in the kitchen listening to the
radio. I will be making more jam… Watch this space.
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