Lily’s Blog

I thought of this poem by Russian poet, Inna Kabysh as I was making marmalade at the weekend.

Making Jam in July

A woman who’s making jam in July
is preparing to be around for a while.
She intends to soldier on, to hibernate
through the discomforts of winter.
Otherwise, for what reason, and notice,
not out of any feeling of duty,
should she be spending the short summer
skimming residue off jam?

A woman who’s making jam in July
in all the chaos of a steamy kitchen,
isn’t going to be absconding to the West
or buying a ticket to the States.
That woman will be scrambling out of snowdrifts,
buoyed up by the savour of the fruit.
Whoever’s making jam in Russia
knows there isn’t any way out.

I like this poem.

Making marmalade isn’t part of my new cooking experiment as I used a recipe from Darina Allen’s Ballymaloe cookery course. It was only afterwards that I spotted that one of the books I’m using for my experiment, Jim’s Kitchen, has three marmalade recipes. Oh well!

I washed 2kg of marmalade oranges and put them into two pots with 5.4 litres of water in total. A lot of water and thus two pots because I don’t have one big enough for the full quantity. The pots were brought to the boil, transferred to the slow oven for about two hours and then left to cool.

Youngest mouse had borrowed my camera so I only took photos of the later stages, when he got back.

The oranges, soft at this stage were removed from the liquid, halved and the centres scooped out onto muslin cloth. I tied the muslin cloth into a bag and added it into the liquid. The orange skins were finely chopped and also added in. All escaping juice was collected and added back into the saucepan. The liquid was then boiled and reduced to just over a third of its original volume.

4.4kg of sugar was warmed in the slow oven and then added into the liquid now in one saucepan. I dissolved the sugar fully but then used a second saucepan to rapidly boil smaller quantities of the marmalade until setting point was reached. It was great fun trying to judge how far I could go without it all boiling over. I like living dangerously!

Judging when setting point is reached is really a bit of guess work, for me anyhow. Because I only make marmalade once a year, I never remember how long it actually takes. I try testing some of the liquid on a plate cooled in the freezer. If it passes the ‘wrinkle test’, it means it will set!

Usually I’m on a wing and a prayer, hoping I’ve boiled it enough to set it, but not too much to spoil it.

The end result was well worth all the winging and praying!

For the smell in the kitchen alone, it was well worth it!

Later on, Denis and I sat down and ate fresh brown bread and still hot, fresh marmalade.

A woman who’s making jam in July
is resigned to living with her husband.

I’m not sure if this counts though for marmalade in January!