Lady Marmalade

A HUGE jar of marmalade. See how the peel is swirled throughout? That's how it's meant to look :P

When I was growing up our pantry always used to be filled with multiple jars of jam made by my mother. In our backyard we had a mulberry tree, a peach tree and an orange tree and when the trees were heavy with fruit, it would be picked off and Mum would turn the surplus into big batches of jam and marmalade. She seemed to do most of her jam making on hot, sticky summer nights; standing by the stove with a book while she constantly stirred the latest concoction boiling away in her special "jam pan". A tray of piping hot sterilised jars would sit alongside her, waiting to be filled and labelled with something like "Mulberry January 1990".

Now I'm continuing on in the jam making tradition and am slowly learning how to make my own preserves. And I have to say, there's something about making jam that satisfies that hunter-gatherer instinct in you; you're turning surplus into provisions to store away for times ahead. Dare I say it makes me feel very accomplished to make my own jams. Seeing the fruits of my labour stacked up on the pantry shelves inspires a sense of satisfaction.

I've only begun my own jam making since I got married and I must say it's been an interesting learning curve. My first jam making attempt was plum jam, which turned into plum toffee because I cooked it too long. I got it right the second time though, which inspired me to try out apricot jam.

I was inspired to try making marmalade after picking up some Seville oranges at the farmers market. Originally I bought these bitterly fragrant oranges to try out some of Nigella Lawson's yummy recipes with the fruit, but I had so many I also decided to try the marmalade as well using a recipe from an excellent book my mum gave me, the Australian Women's Weekly Book of Preserves.

Marmalade making is a lengthy process, or at least the Seville marmalade is. You begin by finely slicing up 1kg of unpeeled Seville oranges, reserving the seeds, and then you put all the fruit into a bowl with 2 litres of water and let it sit overnight in the fridge. At the same time you put the seeds, which are packed with jam-setting pectin, into a bowl, pour over some water to cover them and let them set overnight. This whole process left me and the kitchen bench sticky with orange juice!
The next day you pull out a BIG pan (mine is a 7L Dutch oven), put your fruit mixture in and let it boil for 45 minutes until the rind is soft. The smell of the oranges bubbling away pervaded the house and it really reminded me of my mum's efforts!
It then gets even messier as you measure out your fruit mixture into a bowl to work out how much sugar you're going to add. I had 6 1/2 cups of orange mix, so I added 6 1/2 cups of sugar along with the jellied liquid from the seeds. Back it all went into the pan.
You then stir all the sugar in until it's dissolved, bring the marmalade to the boil and let it boil for 20 minutes until it jells. To test for the jelling you put some plates in the freezer, pull them out when cold and blob a little bit of marmalade on. Let it cool, and then push your finger with it. If it wrinkles, it's ready.
While I was making the marmalade I had some old clean jars sitting in the oven to sterilize them, and after letting the marmalade sit in the pan for 10 minutes (it helps to suspend the peel) I filled up my jars.
It makes a hell of a lot - the recipe said it would make 12 cups, I think I had a little less but I still managed to fill up about six big jars!

It's probably the wrong time to say this, but I actually really don't like marmalade. This one in particular was incredibly bitter, so I dare say I'll be giving away a lot of it!

Marmalade making is living proof the journey is often better than the destination, at least for me anyway.