Not so bloody oranges!
Visiting friends recently, they inquired whether or not I had made marmalade this year. I had not and immediately realised the short season Seville oranges are available had passed me by. While working in Spain during the cooler months of January and February, I distinctly remember the Seville orange trees lining pathways and planted in parks. The oranges they produce are practically inedible because of the bitterness and the fact they are full of pips. The trees themselves it appears have three uses; decoration, shade and marmalade. My only chance was to find some dodgy specimens from a late crop or shipment. However, this did not happen and I did not want to give up the idea entirely. In my quest for some citrus heaven, I came across some blood oranges. Normally, I like to see them cut giving some indication of the colour of the flesh, and quality of the orange. Even better if they can be tasted! In the end it was pot luck and I took a risk on some very fine sweet scented blood oranges.
In the past my marmalade production has been a little hit and miss, and in some cases very disappointing. The oranges may have been a problem but generating enough pectin to set the marmalade was also a factor. There are many other factors including a lack of patience on my part, and seeking to rush the process along with no jam thermometer on hand. There is a temptation always to try and finish the production in one night. However, in consequence of my New Year regime of physical activity, requiring a swim every evening, I knew I could not achieve this. There is very little time left after making the evening meal and carrying out ongoing essential repairs to relationships.
Basically, marmalade should be what you want it to be, and not made to mimic some sugared jelly with non-descript peel in a jar. This of course means that you are going to be quite selfish making it in a manner that pleases you alone. How many times have you sat around a table where everybody has liked the same jar of marmalade? Invariably some people spoon out a scoop of jelly without a spec of peel while others prefer to load their toast with peel. Then there are those that discard peel, sending it to the edge of the plate because it is just too thick. In recent years some marmalades have been flavoured with whiskey or spices. I am not a huge fan of the whisky marmalade but the addition of spices does intrigue me.
After much consideration and reflection upon my old reliable sources, such as the writings of Marguerite Patten, and the Avoca Cafe Cookbook 1, not to mention a number of good articles published in the recent past, I decided that it was preferable to make the marmalade over a number of days. Formulating and favouring a three point plan, in contrast to most Irish political parties who seem to be relying on various permutations of five point plans to solve other problems, appeared to be the most rational way of producing the marmalade. A recent purchase of a mincing machine, (the last one available and purchased after a battle involving more than a fair share of quick mindedness, duplicity and deception preying on my opponent, a sharp and very particular 70 year old woman), was also going to play a part in this process as I could not sacrifice an hour and a half of my evening slicing orange peel.
Stage 1: Carefully wash 8 blood oranges and thereafter cut them in half and juice them, placing the juice and any flesh in the fridge until required later. Put all the halved oranges into a preserving pan, and cover with about 2.5 litres of water. Cook over a low flame for about 45 minutes and leave the pot and its contents stand overnight. The kitchen will be filled with warm sweet gentle citrus aromas setting the scene for any essential maintenance to a relationship; chemical warfare - get the upper hand.
Stage 2: Relationship should be back on track for this stage as it could be messy. Remove the softened orange halves from the liquid in the pot. The liquid should be kept and measured. Chop the orange peel into chunks and then put them through the mincing machine. This should not take long and it may look as if there is a lot of pith, but persevere because this will assist in the setting process as it is a good source of pectin. Put the minced orange peel, the orange juice and the reserved cooking liquid into a preserving pan. I ended up with just over a litre and half of cooking liquid, and added to this some water to make up two litres. Cook the contents of the pot over a low heat for about two hours and let the pot stand overnight.
Stage 3: The end is in sight. Sterilise about 8 jars and lids by placing them in the dishwasher, and thereafter in the oven at 100C. Reheat the contents of the pot. Once warmed through, stir in 1.5 kilos of sugar and allow it to dissolve. If the colour of the marmalade mixture looks too light, add half white and half brown sugar to deepen the colour. At this point I became nervous about the setting ability of my marmalade and added 4 tablespoons of lemon juice to provide some extra insurance. Once the sugar has dissolved, boil the marmalade steadily for about 25 minutes. At this point some science should be applied, and if you have a jam thermometer the marmalade should set once it reaches 105 C. There are a number of theories on this but I choose to use the cold saucer method to test for setting point. Begin testing after about 20 minutes, and if the marmalade stiffens and wrinkles on the saucer, or resists your finger as it is passed through the drop of marmalade, then it has reached setting point.
Once setting point is reached, take the marmalade off the heat and let it stand for 15 minutes before spooning it into the sterile jars, and sealing down. This allows the peel to be well distributed throughout the marmalade, and prevents an unfortunate situation where the peel may settle on the bottom of the jars. If you chose to flavour a marmalade with spices or whiskey, these should be added while the marmalade is thickening and cooling in the preserving pan. For half of my production, I added a teaspoon of épices de pain d'épices; a mixture of ground cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, pepper and clove. The impact of this combination was immediate as it not only darkened the colour of the marmalade, but intensified and complimented the rich sweet citrus aromas coming from the pot. Looking forward to breakfast now!
The end result a thick set marmalde full of flavour
