Fruitful research

Just gave my 92-year-old grandmother my last jar of pink grapefruit marmalade (she says she's addicted to the stuff), so am eagerly awaiting the advent of the citrus season in November/December . . . . 

In the meantime, I am researching marmalade around the globe and have discovered some interesting things about marmalade-making in India, thanks to my glamorous, actress friend Fiona Martinelli, who moved to Bangalore last year with her husband Nick and her five children. She put me in touch with Geetu Singh, who has given me so many wonderful resources, and here's some of what I've learned: 

• Historically, expatriate Britons made something they called "country marmalade" in India from pomelos, the thick-skinned and rather coarse ancestor of the grapefruit.  

• Marmalade has been a popular jam among the upper classes and, to some extent the middle classes, in India for a long time. It has been commercially produced for many years under the Kissan (Farmer) brand, and many Indians buy that brand, as their parents did before them. 

• There are also many home jam makers and communities from the state of Punjab, Himachal Pradesh and the city of  Ooty, and others who love to make and can this jam, in season. For instance, Linnet Mushran (a Briton by birth) has led a group of inspired women in the fruit orchards of Himachal Pradesh, sourcing fruits directly from local small farmers and making homemade preserves and marmalades to provide a source of income for their families. What started as a small kitchen operation now employs and supports more than 100 women in the community.

• Rangpur limes (Citrus x limonia), a lemon and mandarin hybrid, originating in India, is best known for the fine marmalade produced from it, which is reputedly even better than that from Seville oranges. The fruit is grown in India, California, Australia, and Hawaii. I would really LOVE to get my hands on some of these and make some marmalade. Anyone know where I can get some?

I just find all this fascinating. Please write to me if you live somewhere other than England or the U.S. and are making marmalade. Tell me what citrus fruits you use, and tell me why you like "marmalading . . . ."

Marmalade Stories

One of the joys of writing about something you love is "meeting" all these wonderful people around the world who feel the same. I was recently corresponding with a delightful gentleman called Lachlan Shackleton-Fergus from Australia who, in February, won a gold medal at The World Marmalade Awards in Cumbria, UK (http://www.marmaladeawards.com/). (With a name like that, you'd expect him to make great marmalade, and he does. We also think we might be related somehow. We Scots have to stick together.)  


I was asking him what compelled him to start making his own--because it is a compulsion. He started making marmalade from Sicilian lemons growing on the island of Malta, where he lived at the time. He made hundreds of pounds of marmalade, and gave it away to the locals, who were not familiar with it. But he kept making it. And now he makes it and wins awards and sells it--alot of it. Check out his website: http://jbshackletons.com.au/

My best friend Jo was lucky enough to grow up with a mum who made her own, delicious Seville orange marmalade. But she grew up in England; I grew up in a rural part of New York State, where the only marmalade was Smucker's, and it got spread on the Easter ham. It wasn't anything to write about, that's for sure. 

But in 1986 I was an undergraduate studying for a semester in London, and I took the overnight ferry from Holyhead (Wales) to Dun Laoghaire (Dublin, Ireland) for Spring Break. (I couldn't afford warmer Southern European destinations, and nobody wanted to go where it was cold and rainy, so I went by myself). I arrived at a B&B in the Dublin suburbs at dawn, and the kind landlady took one look at me, and said, "you go on up to your room, and I'll bring you a nice breakfast tray." The breakfast tray contained: a steaming pot of strong tea, homemade toasted bread, creamy and salty Irish butter and her own homemade marmalade. I will never forget how that meal made me feel--warm and looked after--and how the marmalade tasted: sour and sweet and slightly bitter. And it was so beautiful to look at. 


Lachlan's description of eating marmalade as a student short on funds at Cambridge conjures up similiar images and feelings: "Marmalade, thickly spread on toast dripping with butter, browned on a three-pronged fork over a little room in front of the fire was a ritual." 

In 1987, when I was able to spend one term at Oxford, I didn't have the sitting room with a fire or the three-pronged fork, but I made a beeline to the Frank Cooper Marmalade shop on the High Street and stocked up on the dark, thick-cut marmalade. I was addicted to it.

Back in the U.S. (Washington, DC, working at Washington National Cathedral) I tried to find a way to make my own homemade marmalade because I missed the taste of it. I tried making some from sweet navel oranges, but when my best friend Jo http://www.projectmarmalade.com/ came to visit, she took one taste and said, "What is THIS?"

When I moved to Boston in 1995, I found a place in Harvard Square that sold MaMade, which is Seville oranges and pectin in a can; just add sugar (http://www.amazon.com/Hartleys-Orange-Made-Thin-850g/dp/B000JL2KQ2), so I tried that. It was pretty close to the real thing, so I happily made another batch and then another. Then I got bored and decided to add some Glenmorangie single malt Scotch whisky. I sold it at a holiday fair for $10 a jar. I thought about making it and selling it commercially, but I couldn't figure out how to do it, so I kept my day job in publishing. 

Now, I make it every winter, from grapefruit and sometimes kumquats, as they seem to taste the best. I use Nigella Lawson's easy pink grapefruit marmalade recipe http://low-cholesterol.food.com/recipe/pink-grapefruit-marmalade-195086 because I am very lazy. And I experiment, sometimes using all dark brown sugar, which I like because it makes the marmalade all dark and rich and treacly. 

Maybe when I'm old I will have a dark green, enamel AGA stove http://www.agaliving.com/our-products/classic-aga-cookers.aspx in my kitchen and several cats, and I will "marmalade" all winter long and give jars away to the postman and to all my friends. Wait--that's kind of what I do now, except without the Aga and the cats. We're working on getting a cat, at least.

Please write and tell me why/how you started making your own marmalade?

A short history of well-travelled marmalade

It began innocently enough. My friend Jo in London, who is also obsessed with marmalade, was trawling the Internet one day and found a company that imports a coffee marmalade she wanted to try. The importer is in the U.S., but the coffee marmalade is made in Sicily. My friend first asked if the coffee marmalade could be shipped directly to her in London (England being closer to Italy than the U.S.). Apparently, it couldn’t. So she asked me if I could order it, then send it to her in London, so she could taste it and review it on her blog. She kindly offered to pay me for the shipping with dollars she has stashed away somewhere in her rambling house in north London. But I told her she could just send me a Fortnum & Mason chocolate rabbit for my daughter’s Easter basket instead. So far; so good.

I called the importer, a company called Gustiamo in New Jersey (www.gustiamo.com). A lovely lady (Martina) took my order, and as we were chatting, I mentioned to her that the coffee marmalade was for my friend in London who wants to review it on her blog. I placed my order, got off the phone, and went to make myself a well-deserved cup of tea. A little while later, the phone rang, and it’s another lovely lady from Gustiamo—this time the boss, Beatrice—who said she heard about the marmalade blog, and she would be happy to send the coffee marmalade at no charge to us. I said, "thank you so much" (thinking to myself in a Paddington Bear-like way that this could be the start of something truly wonderful—getting jars of marmalade in the mail for free!)

A week later, my little package came with not one, but two jars of Sicilian coffee marmalade. So the little box of marmalade, which had already crossed the Atlantic once (from Italy to New Jersey), is now wending its way back across the Atlantic again, from Boston to London. 

If you are curious (as I am) to find out what it tastes like, check out my friend Jo’s blog at http://www.projectmarmalade.com/ in a few weeks’ time. She needs to give the marmalade time to get over its jet lag.

  

Who Knew Marmalade Could Be Dangerous?

Under the heading of: “I couldn’t make it up if I tried . . . .”

Last year, it was reported that internationally acclaimed soprano Lisa Gasteen was able to return to the stage, three years after a mishap involving marmalade cut short her career. “In 2008, Gasteen had returned to her Brisbane home after a series of overseas performances when she spied her kumquat tree full of fruit. With a batch of marmalade in mind, she grabbed a bucket and climbed a ladder while still in her high heels, and pinched a nerve. The injury caused the muscles around her larynx to spasm painfully when she sang and forced her sudden exit from opera with a full schedule of bookings, crushing her fans worldwide.” [1]

Another news report describes how a millionaire killed during a robbery may have been fed marmalade by the raiders. Police suspected that the gang gave diabetic John Luper, the sugar-laden food thinking he had lapsed into a coma. A murder hunt was launched after Mr Luper’s body was found near a spoon and a jar of marmalade in a laundry room of his £1 million home in an affluent Leeds suburb. A post-mortem failed to establish exactly how Mr Luper died. [2]

And finally, a warning for all those who make marmalade: beware your stove. Biochemist and former teacher Keith Turnbull, 61, died in his remote cottage near Walk, northern England, just before Christmas while stirring homemade marmalade, unaware his faulty gas stove was emitting deadly carbon monoxide gas. The scientist’s dog Cleugh also died. [3]

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[1] Diva returns to opera stage to help emerging artists. (2011). The Gold Coast Bulletin, p. 33.

[2] Alastair, T. (n.d). Marmalade murder clue. The Sun.

[3] N.A. (n.d). British scientist’s death blamed on stove that leaked gas as he made marmalade. The Canadian Press.

Marmalade in Literature

Anyone who loves literature might be delighted to know how many times marmalade makes an appearance in the pages of some of our favorite childrens’ books as well as in grown-up literature. Of course, Paddington Bear loves marmalade so much it’s almost like a security blanket for him; (I can relate to that). When Alice finds herself tumbling down the rabbit hole in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, she picks up a jar called Orange Marmalade from a shelf—“but to her great disappointment, it is empty.” Look on Amazon, and you find that there are any number of children’s books and book series with main characters called Marmalade: Orlando the Marmalade Cat, A Star in a Marmalade Jar, Scotch Marmalade, Maine Marmalade, Marmalade Jim, The Mouse in the Marmalade. In the 1990s, the Japanese created The Marmalade Boy comic series, which became a television series, which became a movie, (which are now, alas, all out of print).

But it isn’t only in children’s literature that it appears. You’ll have to indulge me here, but even Shakespeare has Beatrice saying of Claudio in Much Ado About Nothing: “The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil Count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.” Although I may be stretching the point too far here, you have to admit, she is talking about an orange in a fairly complimentary way. Or maybe "civil" is just a pun on "Seville?" (We won’t mention here that in Shakespeare’s time, marmalade was usually made from quinces.)

Charles Ryder, the protagonist of Evelyn Waugh’s novel Brideshead Revisited, at Oxford in the 1920s, ate his “scrambled eggs and bitter marmalade with the zest which in youth follows a restless night.” Unfortunately, in The Road to Wigan Pier, “a jar of marmalade on a sideboard, ‘an unspeakable mess of stickiness and dust,’ epitomized for George Orwell the complete squalor of a working-class household.” [1] One of the several points on which I have to disagree with George.

More recently, The Beatles sang about marmalade skies in “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” and today, Christine Aguilera sings “Lady Marmalade.” “Bill Nighy and Geoffrey Whitehead starred in Marmalade for Comrade Philby, a play about a mediocre novelist who, on his occasional trips to Moscow, always visits the spy Kim Philby—material for a future book—and takes him a pot of his favorite Oxford marmalade (thick-cut).” [2]

And finally, Americans fans of Jan Karon’s popular Mitford books (about a small North Carolina town and its residents), know all about Esther Bolick, baker of a famous Orange Marmalade cake that is so sought after that it is the prize in raffles. (See January 20 blog entry for the recipe for this cake.)

I love this stuff; I really do. If any of my readers (all three of you) find another mention of marmalade in literature, would you please email it to me? In return, I promise to send you one of my jars of homemade pink grapefruit marmalade. (I have a lot to spare; I made 8 batches this winter.)

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[1] R. W. Apple, Jr. (2002, March 27). This Blessed Plot, This Realm of Tea, This Marmalade. The New York Times, p. 1.

[2] (2009, July 30). Radio Choice. The Daily Mail, p. 65.

Winston Churchill and marmalade

Winston Churchill was a life-long devotee of both marmalade and marmalade cats (orange tabby, for my American readers). In 2006, F. Duerr and Sons Ltd., manufacturers of branded and private-label preserves in Manchester, England, released the world’s most expensive Seville Orange Marmalade to mark the company’s 125th anniversary. Priced at £5,000/kilo, it contained 62-year-old Dalmore malt whisky, a dash of vintage Pol Roger Cuvee Sir Winston Churchill 1996 Champagne, and gold leaf, in a handmade crystal jar.[1]

“The Winston Churchill champagne was chosen because of the British statesman’s predilection for both marmalade and fine champagne. In his own unique take on the breakfast of champions . . . legend has it that Churchill downed a glass of Pol Roger cuvee daily with his full English breakfast. He justified this exuberance by saying: ‘In victory, I deserve it; in defeat, I need it.’ Indeed.”[2]

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[1] Sheila, K. (n.d). Marmalade. Times, The (United Kingdom). Retrieved March 21, 2011 from EBSCOhost. 

2 Toast and marmalade for tea. (2006). Money Management, 20(37), 36. Retrieved March 21, 2011 from EBSCOhost.)

Marmalade-Making Tips from the Pros

On youtube.com there are more than 1,000 clips on how to make marmalade, which is a little overwhelming (for me at least). To get you started, here’s a great article by my friend and marmalade-obsessed counterpart, Jo Swinnerton, in London: http://www.fortnumandmason.com/c-536-the-pleasures-of-making-marmalade.aspx 


Jo has the enviable job of writing for Fortnum & Mason, one of London’s oldest and most beloved insitutions (since 1707), and she will soon be joining me in the blogosphere.   

Esther Bolick's Orange Marmalade Cake

American author Jan Karon’s popular Mitford books (about a small North Carolina town and its residents), include a character named Esther Bolick, baker of a famous Orange Marmalade cake that is so sought after that it is the prize in many raffles. Although there are many recipes available on the Internet for this famous cake, I believe this one, directly from Penguin’s website (Karon’s publisher) and Jan Karon’s Mitford Cookbook and Kitchen Reader, is the most authentic (and looks the most delicious.) I invite anyone who has made this cake to post a comment, letting us  know what you thought of it.

Esther Bolick’s Orange Marmalade Layer Cake

(Courtesy, Jan Karon’s Mitford Cookbook and Kitchen Reader)

Yields: 1 cake, 10 to 12 servings

Cake Ingredients:

3 cups cake flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup (2 sticks) softened unsalted butter

2 cups granulated sugar

3 large eggs, at room temperature, beaten lightly

1 tablespoon grated orange zest

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature

Orange Syrup:
1 cup freshly squeezed orange juice
1/4 cup granulated sugar


Filling:
1 cup orange marmalade


Frosting:
3/4 cup well-chilled heavy cream
3 tablespoons sugar
3/4 cup well-chilled sour cream

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Butter two 9-inch round cake pans, line with parchment or waxed paper, and butter and flour the paper, shaking out the excess.

2. In a bowl, sift the flour, baking soda, and salt.

3. In a bowl with an electric mixer, beat the butter until combined, add the sugar, a little at a time, and beat the mixture until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, orange zest, and vanilla. Beat in 1/3 of the dry ingredients alternately with 1/2 of the buttermilk until combined well. Add half the remaining dry ingredients and the remaining buttermilk and beat until combined well. Finally, beat in the remaining dry ingredients until mixture is smooth.

4. Evenly divide the batter between the pans, smooth the surface, rap each pan on the counter to expel any air pockets or bubbles, then transfer to the oven. Bake for 45 minutes or until a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Transfer to racks and cool in the pans for 20 minutes.

To Make the Orange Syrup:
5. Meanwhile, make the orange syrup: In a bowl, stir together the orange juice and sugar until sugar is dissolved.

6. With a toothpick or wooden skewer, poke holes at 1/2-inch intervals in the cake layers and spoon the syrup over each layer, allowing the syrup to be completely absorbed before adding the remaining. Let layers cool completely.

To Make the Filling:
7. In a small saucepan set over moderate heat, heat the marmalade until just melted. Let cool 5 minutes.

To Make the Frosting:
8. In a bowl, whisk the heavy cream with the sugar until it forms firm peaks. Add the sour cream, a little at a time, and whisk until of spreading consistency.

To Assemble the Cake:
9. Arrange one of the layers on a cake plate, carefully peel off the waxed paper, then spread 2/3 of the marmalade over the top, smoothing it into an even layer. Invert the remaining layer onto the top of the first layer, peel off the waxed paper and spoon the remaining marmalade onto the center of it, leaving a 1 1/4-inch border around the edge. Frost the sides and top of the border with the frosting, leaving the marmalade on top of the cake exposed. Or if you prefer, frost the entire cake, adding the marmalade as a garnish on top. Chill for at least 2 hours before serving.

Marmalade and Martha Washington

'Tis the season for marmalade: I have two Florida grapefruits bobbing up and down in boiling water on the stove, and much more to say . . . .this post is mostly of historical interest, but I will be talking about making marmalade, too, in future posts.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Martha Washington had her own orange marmalade recipe which she used at Mount Vernon, the home she shared with George (and more than a few children, grandchildren and servants), in Virginia. Actually, she probably used more than one recipe. Thanks to research historian Mary V. Thompson at Mount Vernon, I can now share some of them with you.

One cookbook that belonged to Mrs. Washington was a manuscript cookbook (as opposed to a published one), which she inherited from the family of her first husband, Daniel Parke Custis. The recipes were probably compiled in the 17th century, and at least some of them date back to the 16th century, indicating that the little book was probably thought of as an heirloom and was not used by her, because the recipes would have been considered old fashioned or out of date. It contains not one but 13 recipes for “marmalet”—most of which were made from quinces, as most marmalade then was made with that ancient fruit. But one shows how “To Make Marmalet of Orringes:

Lay yr orringes in water 9 dayes, yn boyle them whole in 3 or 4 waters till ye bitterness be gon. yn pare them & take onely ye pills & beat them in a mortar, yn take halfe a pound of it & halfe a pound of ye pap of scalded pippins. mix ym together & dry them in a dish over a chafing dish of coles a quarter of an houre, & stir ym well. then take a pownd & halfe of sugar & as much rose water as will wet it, then boyle it in a dish on coles till it is allmoste sugar agayne. then mingle ye orringes, ye pippin pap, & sugar alltogether & dry it in ye dish againe over a chafing dish of coles, till it is stiff enough.

(Karen Hess, ed., Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery and Booke of Sweetmeats, 1996, page 246.)

The recipes Martha most likely used came from The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy by Hannah Glasse—the most popular cookbook in America in the 18th century. Published in England, it contains three recipes for marmalade: one for orange, and the other two for quince. This is the orange marmalade Mrs. Washington most likely used:

Take the best Seville Oranges, cut them in Quarters, grate them to take out the Bitterness, put them in Water, which you must shift twice or thrice a Day for three Days; then boil them, shifting the Water till they are tender, then shred them very small, then pick out the Skins and Seeds from the Meat which you pulled out, and put it to the Peel that is shred; and to a Pound of that Pulp take a Pound of double-refined Sugar. Wet your Sugar with Water, and boil it up to a candy Height, (with a very quick Fire) which you may know by the dropping of it; for it hangs like a Hair; then take off the Fire, put in your Pulp, stir it well together, then set it on the Embers, and stir it till it is thick, but let it not boil. If you would have it cut like Marmalade, add some Jelly of Pippins, and allow Sugar for it.

(Glasse, Hannah. Gale ECCO, Print Edition. 2010 reproduction of 1923 edition. The art of cookery, made plain and easy. To which are added, one hundred and fifty new receipts, a copious index, and, a modern bill of fare . . . .)