Happiness in a jar

How do you like your marmalade? Finely cut, sweet and golden? Or thick-cut, bitter-sweet and treacly? My preference is definitely for the latter and the darker the better. I’m not sure when my love of marmalade started or where it came from. I can’t ever recall my mum or grandmothers making it, but mum does love eating it. I remember giving her all my chunks of peel when I was younger for her to pile onto her toast. Perhaps that’s where it started.

This time of year is when you can find Seville oranges in the shops in the UK. It’s a short season (January to February), so if you fancy having a go at making marmalade buy them now while you can. These bitter oranges are definitely not for eating – they are far too sour and full of pips – but they do make THE best marmalade. I’ve just finished potting up my favourite kind. Standing in my kitchen, scraping the bottom of the preserving pan with a toasted bagel to get at every last drop of gorgeousness, I had a moment – you know, when everything in your world feels alright – and I felt a burst of ridiculous happiness.

There are many different marmalade recipes and methods but here’s how I make it.

A dark and treacly marmalade (makes about 10 x 340g jars)
Ingredients:
1.5kg Seville oranges
2 unwaxed lemons
1kg dark soft brown sugar
1kg unrefined caster sugar

You will need:
a very large saucepan or preserving pan with lid
long-handled wooden spoon
slotted spoon
sieve
large colander
a couple of bowls (the right size to sit sieve and colander over)
1-litre measuring jug (if you have 2 jugs use both)
large chopping board and sharp knife
ladle
jam funnel
10 jars, sterilised (see how to do it here)

Wash the oranges and lemons. Halve the lemons, squeeze the juice from them and set it aside for later. Put all the fruit in a large saucepan or preserving pan.

Add about 3.5 litres of water and bring to the boil. Lower the heat to simmering point, cover the pan and simmer for about 2 hours. At this point, you can go and catch up on blog reading or gardening or something more interesting than watching the pot. It’s a good idea to check the oranges are cooking evenly and turn them over in the simmering water occasionally. You want the oranges to be very soft – once the sugar is added the rind won’t soften further, so you need to make sure it’s softened sufficiently at this stage. Try squishing one with a wooden spoon. If it gives way easily, they’re done. Leave to cool. You can leave them until the next day if that’s easier.

This is the messy bit. Clear a big space and make sure you have a colander, sieve, a couple of bowls and measuring jugs to hand. Lift the fruit out of the pan with a slotted spoon and into a large colander set over a bowl. Take each orange and pull apart, carefully scooping the pips and pith with your hands into a sieve set over a bowl (liquid from this will be rich in pectin, which you want). Cut the orange skins into the size of shreds you want. I like mine chunky (and it’s less fiddly than cutting very finely). You can also shred the lemons, if you like. Add any liquid from the colander to the pan. Squish the pith and pips into the sieve and add that liquid too. Measure the overall amount of liquid you have – you’re after about 2.2 litres. Add water to top up if necessary.

Add the reserved lemon juice to the liquid in the pan, tip in all the shredded peel and the sugar.

Stir the ingredients together with a wooden spoon over a low heat until the sugar has dissolved, then turn up the heat to bring the marmalade to a rolling boil. Boil rapidly for about 35 minutes and then test for a set: spoon a little onto a chilled saucer, pop it in the freezer for a minute then push the marmalade with your finger. If it wrinkles, you have reached setting point. If it doesn’t, keep boiling and test again every few minutes.

Once your marmalade is ready to pot, remove the sterilised jars from the oven and put alongside the pan. Place the jam funnel in the top of each jar and use the ladle to fill to about 1cm from the top. Fill each jar in turn then place a lid or waxed disc on top of each one. If you have a little left over (more than for a toasted bagel), scrape it into a bowl and cover with clingfilm. Use this up before you start on the jars.

Leave the jars to cool, then tighten the lids (or cover with cellophane tops) before labelling and storing. Unopened jars will apparently keep for about 2 years but mine don’t last long enough to check that claim.