Marmalade!

As anyone with an interest in preserving fruit or making jam will know, late December to early February is Seville orange season. It's not a long one, but Seville oranges are very important for one simple reason - they're the variety used to make the very best marmalade. My marmalade-making session has lasted for four days now, and to celebrate finishing those lovely sticky orange jam jars, I'm treating you all to a marmalade extravaganza.

Classic marmalade is a preserve made with Seville oranges, which are not usually used for eating because of their bitter taste and thick peel. A traditional marmalade contains prepared, softened orange peel, sliced into pieces. The thickness of the pieces varies depending on the type of marmalade, and each thickness has a different effect, so that a thick cut marmalade is often more bitter and caramel-tasting, whereas a thin cut marmalade is lighter and has a more fruity scent.

These days, though, marmalade goes far beyond the tradition orange version, and now it's pretty much of a case of anything goes (as long as 'anything' means a citrus-based preserve...) You can have marmalade made from other varieties of oranges (sweet oranges, blood oranges, tangerines...); lemons and limes; even grapefruit. As long as it's a citrus fruit, you can make it into marmalade. You can also add all sorts of exciting bits and pieces, from spices and extra flavourings (cardamom, vanilla...) to the spirit of your choice (whisky is a good one to start with). You can mix your fruits together as well, although it might take a while or a good recipe to get the ratios right for the best flavour.

Despite all this excitement and variety, and purely because it's Seville season, I stuck to a traditional base for my marmalades. I made two batches, one plain and one a bit...experimental. To the latter, I added all the ginger in the house (which turned out to be one 5cm stem, a bit manky round the edges...) and a few star anises. I've called it 'Medium Cut Seville Orange Marmalade with Star Anise and a Hint of Ginger'. Catchy,I know.

Just as there are a million varieties, there are a million million recipes even for a traditional marmalade. I didn't go for anything too flashy, just one that caught my eye from my Ballymaloe cookbook. It begins with whole oranges, which are washed thoroughly then cooked before being sliced and cooked again with sugar and juice to make the marmalade. The alternative method is to slice the orange peel first, then cook the marmalade, again in two stages. Either way, however, it's vital that the peel is soft before you add sugar for the second stage of cooking, as once the sugar is added the peel won't soften any more, and you can end up with nasty hard bits in your marmalade.

Anyway, I can't give you an exact recipe as it's not mine, but here's a very rough breakdown of how it worked for me.

I'll give you the basic version first:

I had about 3kg of Seville oranges, and four lemons, which I used because they're very rich in pectin, so they'll help your preserve set well, and they add a nice hint of sharpness (although to really bring this out you need more than 4 lemons per 3kg of oranges!). These I washed, paying attention to any defects on the peel and trying to get rid of them - you're putting the peel in your mixture later on, so you don't want any unsightly dark patches or lumps spoiling the perfection of your jars.

Next up was to boil the whole oranges and lemons in plain water. I split them into two batches even at this early stage, frankly because it's impossible to fit 3kg of oranges plus water into one domestic saucepan, and I own some pretty big saucepans. So, per saucepan was 1.5kg oranges; 4 litres of water; and 2 lemons. You need to boil fast until they're soft, which for me took about 2.5 hours. The water will froth and rise up the pan like Satan's minions, before making a leap for freedom over the rim, thus rendering your stove stickier than it has ever been before and, if you're me, meaning you have to wash the kitchen from floor to ceiling after every batch. Watch out for this. It can be prevented by turning your hob down a little bit.

Sterilising shenanigans

Once you've boiled your oranges, you need to leave them in a warm place to cool, making sure you reserve the cooking liquid for later, and sterilise your jam jars to remove any bacteria which might feel like breeding in your nice sugary marmalade. Now, this can be easy, or it can be fraught with danger and excitement: it's up to you. I managed to come out of it just 5 jars down, and with only minor burns to the upper thighs, but you might not be so lucky. It's tempting to take what you think will be shortcuts, so take the following advice very seriously:


1. DO NOT TRY TO POUR BOILING WATER INTO A COLD JAR. It will explode and shower you with scalding water and broken glass. This is not even as fun as it sounds.

2. DO NOT PUT GLASS JARS INTO A VERY HOT OVEN. When you take them out they'll explode; if you try to pour marmalade into the survivors, these will also explode.

3: DO NOT POUR HOT MARMALADE INTO A COLD JAR. You guessed it. Explosion central.


Once you've cleared up the broken glass, water, and hot marmalade mixture from the floor a couple of times you should get the idea.

Now that we've all finished laughing at my shenanigans, here is the correct way to sterilise:

Put your jars in a large pan covered with water. Place on hob and bring to the boil. Boil for 5-10 minutes. Carefully remove jars and place in a warm (not hot) oven to dry. Make sure jars are still warm when potting the marmalade.

Ok? Do not deviate from these instructions. Trust me on this one.

...And on with the show

Right. So, after several hours and some injury time, I'd sterilised my jars and the oranges were well and truly cooled (you can leave them overnight at this point, by the way, although you need to keep your clean jars warm so it's best to do that bit just before you go into the second stage of cooking). This is the time for the mind-numbing bit, so I stuck on some BBC iplayer and got down to it. You have to scoop out the middle segmented bit and pips (but not the pith) from all the oranges and stick it in a muslin bag. Then you need to slice all the orange peel, as thickly or thinly as you like, and put peel, cooking liquid from before, and muslin bag full of orange innards back into your enormous saucepan. Once you've brought this lot to the boil, it's time to add the sugar; I used 3.3kg per batch (ie per 1.5kg of oranges).

I know. I think it's an insane amount too. But those oranges are seriously bitter and you need to balance that out.

I stirred the mixture until the sugar had all dissolved - you can tell, because that grainy feel goes away as you stir - then brought it to a fast boil (again, not on the very hottest setting, though, because it'll overflow the saucepan otherwise) and let it bubble away.

What you're looking to achieve at this point is a set, and it's a bit of a difficult thing to measure. Every few minutes, take a tiny spoonful of your mixture out of the hot pan and pop it on a cool plate. When it's cooled, if you push it with your finger and the skin wrinkles up, that's a set. Don't worry if it's all hideously confusing when you first start testing; you'll get there, whether it takes hours or no time at all. Also, I re-boiled my star anise marmalade after it had cooled because it seemed a bit runny, and it didn't seem to do any harm - the set improved the second time. I'm not sure you'd do this if you were a purist, but for me it worked fine!

Once you've achieved your set, you just transfer your marmalade mix into a jug with a ladle (or pour, if you can manage without spilling it!) and pour from the jug into the warm jars, trying to keep a consistent ratio of peel to liquid in each jar. Then all you have to do is wait for it to set fully, maybe giving a gentle stir from time to time to help distribute the peel evenly. Voila! Your very own marmalade!

Ginger and Anise Marmalade:

For the ginger and anise marmalade, simply dice some ginger very finely (I used 33g, but to be honest if you've got more I'd put it in, a hint of ginger isn't really enough!) and add it, along with 4 or 5 star anise, at the stage when the oranges are boiled whole.  Make sure you remove the anise before you add the sugar.

Last but not least, a couple of things to do with your sticky orange friend:

• Obviously, spread it on the best bit of toast you can lay your hands on.

• Remember the Christmas Ham (I'm sure you do). 

• Spread on some thinly baked sponge cake, roll up, and serve warm like an orange Arctic Roll.

• Make it chunky, with demerara sugar, and dip sausages in it.

• Have a spoonful with some vanilla ice cream and good quality chocolate sauce.

•  Spread it on top of an orange cake (like lemon drizzle, but with orange juice). Or, hide a spoonful or two at the bottom of your usual cake mix.

• Add a spoonful to gravy for gammon or duck.

• Make little pastry tartlet cases and fill them with marmalade before baking (good one for the kids).

• Use to glaze some chicken and cook on a bbq or in the grill pan. 

• Make bread and butter pudding, but with marmalade as well.

• Try it with a savoury mature cheese like cheddar, brie, or goat's cheese.

• Pick out bits of chunky peel for a sneaky sugar hit.

Ok, it's not the quickest thing in the world to make, but if you set aside a Sunday to dedicate to the Seville orange, I don't think you'll regret it. It's pretty therapeutic watching the stuff bubble away; you can catch some TV while you slice the peel; and best of all, there is almost no feeling more virtuous than tucking into your very own homemade marmalade for breakfast. Think how proud your mum would be.