We’re really proud that almost everything we include in our welcome hamper (other than our coffee beans and rapeseed oil) is made by us and our hens. We know that lots of people probably think we’re mad, but it’s part of what we wanted the Long Barn to stand for: homemade with love.
There’s a rhythm to what we make. A weekly rhythm with our granola, lemon drizzle cake, bread and brownies. And then an annual rhythm for the bigger seasonal rituals – jam, sloe gin and, of course, marmalade.
Whilst jam making is full of light and summer sunshine, marmalade making is very much a wintery task. Usually on a dark, cold, wet day, when it’s far cosier to be in the kitchen surrounded by citrus smells and the sweet stickiness of a pan gently simmering on the hob.
It’s not for everyone. Ian does not look forward to my annual marmalade days. He’s not a fan of the stuff and hates the sticky film that seems to coat every surface, no matter how well I think I’ve cleaned up.
A Very Personal Thing
Marmalade is such a personal thing – even for the people who love it.
My father liked his dark brown, almost like solid boot polish, with thick chunks of peel. His absolute favourite was Bracken Hill Dark and Stormy. My taste is the other end of the spectrum. I love a lighter, tangy marmalade with thin shreds and a soft set.
So that’s what you’ll get if you stay at the Long Barn.
My go-to recipe is by the inimitable Diana Henry. Her recipe Nick’s “Good Morning” Breakfast Marmalade is her favourite too, and it comes from her book Salt Sugar Smoke. Our copy is very well-thumbed and covered in notes.
Triumphs, Disasters and Alchemy
I’ve had marmalade disasters and triumphs over the years. No batch is ever quite the same, but that’s what keeps me on my toes. I don’t take marmalade making for granted – there is a real alchemy to getting the perfect batch, and definitely a fair bit of luck involved too.
If you’ve never made marmalade from scratch before, I’d recommend starting with a small batch. I have friends who swear by the marmalade concentrate in tins – just add sugar and water and you’ll have marmalade in 30 minutes. I’ve never tried it and, to be honest, I prefer doing it properly from scratch. But it does take time.
I love the way Nigel Slater writes about marmalade making in The Christmas Chronicles. He has an entire chapter for 10 January and perfectly sums up the experience. He treats it as a full day’s work – and he’s absolutely right.
For expert advice, go to Diana and Nigel. Or the River Cottage Pam, The Jam.
But as a rank amateur, here are my tips…
Jars Ready
II collect jars throughout the year and recycle any that guests leave behind. I have a rule that they can’t go into my empty jam jar box until all the labels and sticky glue are completely off. It’s deeply dispiriting when you’re ready to start and still have to clean jars.
They all go into the dishwasher on a hot wash, then into the oven on a low heat. I recycle some lids, but also buy new ones online. I don’t use wax seals – just proper lids.
The Fruit
Befriend your local greengrocer so you can pounce as soon as the Seville oranges arrive. The season is unpredictable and can be very short. One year I missed it entirely and was gutted.
I then discovered you can buy frozen Seville oranges online, which saved my bacon. Earlier in the season is best, when they have the most pectin. I also have to juggle timings with blood oranges and pink grapefruit for my recipe.
Soak Overnight
Soaking the shreds overnight, along with the pulp and pips, makes a real difference to the set. When I’ve skipped this step, the marmalade needs more boiling to set and loses its brightness.
That’s fine if you want a dark marmalade, but not if you’re after something lighter. The bonus is that instead of one epic day, you shred the fruit one day and cook it the next.
Setting Problems
I use both a thermometer and the saucer-in-the-freezer technique. How you like your set definitely comes with practice.
I have notes scrawled all over my recipe book (sorry Diana) about hob settings and timings. It’s not an exact science, but it helps me know roughly how long to boil before I start testing.
Your Time
The biggest disasters I’ve had have always been when I’ve been rushing.
One early year (before the Long Barn), the marmalade hadn’t set by the following morning. I had to decant it all back into a pan and boil it again. Ironically, it made a perfect marmalade for my Dad – but not for me.
I’ve realised marmalade simply can’t be rushed. Don’t over-stir (it takes longer to heat), but stir enough to stop it sticking. And have something that distracts you from getting bored, but not so much that you forget your bubbling brew.
This year, while shredding, I listened to Kate Winslet on Desert Island Discs and Jo Whiley being interviewed by Sali Hughes on Beyond the Bathroom.
And I am currently writing this blog next to the stove, checking the set.
Hurrah – off to pot in 12 minutes. 🍊
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