marmellata
Citrus season here is long and bountiful. We are at the tail end of it now, but still as we walk around town I see the dark green trees heavy with their orbs of scarlet orange. I always associate marmellata with my grandmother. At our house growing up, we never really had marmalade, I’m not sure why, maybe my mom just didn’t prefer it. The rarity made it even more enticing, exotic even. My grandmother would spread it thickly over buttered toast, the translucent orange half moons of the rind glistening like jewels. Along with a cup of milky tea, it made a perfect winter treat.
They had 2 orange trees, a Valencia for the summer and a navel for the winter, which meant lots of marmalade. In her opinion, though, real marmalade should be made with bitter Seville oranges. Lamented was the fact that at the state capitol, one city over from us, there were many Seville trees, boughs thick with fragrant clusters of oranges. Perfect, except that people are prohibited from picking the trees. Forbidden fruit, a personal garden of Eden with arance amare, bitter oranges. “No matter,” I always thought as a kid, regular orange marmalade being delicious all the same, bitter oranges be damned. A mental note was formed though, filed away really, so that when I came across a basket piled high with the elusive Sevilles a few weeks ago, I thought, felt compulsed, really, to make marmalade.
Having never made marmalade myself before, this was a bold undertaking. I had made jam before, but how does one make marmalade, I wondered. You can’t just throw the oranges and sugar into a pot and boil away, like you do with other fruit jams. I asked my gram, and she told me how she did it, how a friend did it, and if I should want to use pectin, how the pectin packet recommended you do it. I knew I didn’t want to use pectin, having rather regretted the grainier texture results with past jams of my repertoire. In the end, I turned to an old and torn cookbook, the page splattered a bit so you know it must be good, or at least have been made and used and loved. After the first batch, I became somewhat singular-minded, greedy, and put up 2 more batches to ensure a longer supply. These subsequent batches were with oranges from our own navel orange tree. The Seville orange marmalade is, unsurprisingly, much more bitter with less of a bright orange flavor. I like both kinds, and it coincidentally was a wonderful time to make jam, as by then the COVID-19 isolation restrictions were in place, and what better to do with time than create. Something to enjoy now, and also later.
As it turns out there’s really not much more to marmalade than making jam, except that you cut the peel into strips, thick or thin, however you like it, then let sit overnight with the juices, some water, and all the odd bits (pith, seeds, pulp) in a muslin bag, tied to the side of the pot. In the morning, you boil, then simmer, this mixture for about 1.5 hours to soften the peel and flavor the water, while your house fills with the bright scent of oranges. Squeeze the pouch to extract all the pectin rich juices, then discard. Add sugar and boil down, stirring often, till a small spoonful of the jam on a saucer that’s been in the freezer makes a blob like the Red Sea- that is, when you push your finger through it, the jam stays on one side and leaves a path through the middle intact. Ladle into clean, warm jars, screw lids on, and process 10 minutes in a boiling water canner for a long term seal. If you’re like me, save one jar out to eat immediately, on toast. Admire the rest of the jars shining their jewel tones on your pantry shelf, and be comforted. Whatever comes, there will be jam.
marmellata di arance
I’ve tried my best to explain everything well, which makes it seem a little long and complicated, which it really isn’t. Sit down before you begin and read the recipe completely through first, so you know exactly what to expect, as when you make jam, things can move quickly, so you want to be prepared for the next step. If you haven’t canned things before, I recommend taking a look at the National Center for Home Food Preservation Site to familiarize yourself with techniques, here. A great blog with clear beginner instruction and information is also Food in Jars. You can also always make a small batch, not can, and keep in the fridge. This recipe is for the one I made with navel oranges from our tree. I also made one batch with Seville oranges, the bitter kind, with the same process, but more sugar, since they are not sweet at all. If you need to make marmalade with low sugar, I recommend buying a pack of Pomona’s Pectin and following their recipe included in the box.
2 1/4 lbs/1 kg oranges (this was about 11 smallish oranges for me)
6 cups/1 1/2 litres water
5 cups/1kg sugar
a large lemon, juiced
6 or so jam jars + lids
With a sharp knife, remove the peels from the oranges in strips, focusing on mostly taking off the orange, leaving most of the white pith behind. You don’t need to be too dear about it, some white part on the orange is fine, in fact I like to take some, just don’t take the whole thing. The more pith, the more bitter. Take a look at the peels in the photo above for a visual. Slice these peels into lengthwise strips, thin or thick, however you like your marmalade. I like mine slightly chunky, so I do a little bit thicker than matchsticks. Place these strips in a large, nonreactive pot.
Juice the peeled oranges and add the juice to the pot, reserving any seeds, pulp, and bits. Place these bits in a muslin or tight mesh bag (I used a cloth tea/coffee sock) along with a few of the hollow, juiced halves. These bits are all high in pectin, and will contribute to thickening the jam without needing to use added pectin. Secure the bag to the handle of the pan. Pour in the water, mix a bit, then let sit overnight on the counter (cover with a lid). This helps the flavors from the peels to seep into the liquid, and makes for a tastier jam.
The next morning, set the pot on the stove, place 2 small saucers in the freezer, and bring your pot to a boil. Reduce to a lively simmer, and cook until the peel is very soft, you should be able to pinch a piece and it squish easily- this will take about 1-1.5 hours. Remove the muslin bag and let sit in a bowl to cool a bit so you can handle it, then squeeze as much juices as you can from the muslin bag, adding these juices back to the pot. Add the sugar and lemon juice to the pot and mix well.
At this point, you will want to get your jars sterilizing. You can do this many ways, I usually either place them on a baking sheet and heat them in a 300f/150c oven for 20 minutes, or simply run them through the hot dishwasher, leaving them in until I’m ready to fill. Place the lids in a small saucepan of hot water and keep warm until ready to use.
Now, for the jam. Give it a good stir again, bring it to a rolling boil, and let it boil away, stirring often to keep the bottom from burning. Keep cooking until it is set, which generally takes about 40ish minutes for me, but can be more or less, depending. If you have/would like to use a candy thermometer, it should reach 220F, then boil rapidly for 5-10 minutes. How I do it is by eye- when I think it’s set, I just put a spoonful on one of the cold plates from the freezer, replace plate in freezer, wait a minute, then swipe through the middle of the blob with my finger. If it crinkles on the surface and the jam stays neatly on the two sides without running back to the middle, it’s ready.
Remove the pot from the heat, and let sit for about 10 minutes (this settle it, making the peels able to be suspended and distributed evenly throughout). While you are waiting, make sure you have everything at the ready- clean jars, warm lids, a clean rag to wipe the rims of the jars, and your boiling water canner, if you are canning the jams.
Ladle into warm, clean jars (I use a canning funnel), wipe down the rims to ensure they are clean of any drips of jam. Add the warm lids on the jars, screw on the rings, finger-tight, and place jars in the boiling water canner. Process for 10 minutes, turn off heat, and transfer jars to the counter (I lay a thick newspaper or tea towel down, or place onto a wooden cutting board- otherwise, if your counter is cold, it can crack the glass from the temperature shock). Let sit until completely cool, you will hear them pop one by one, signifying that they have sealed properly. The next day, remove the rings, and check the seal by gently pushing on the lid. If it depresses at all, it hasn’t sealed. If you have any that didn’t seal, don’t fret, you can just keep them in the fridge and they will be fine for months. The properly sealed kind will last a year+ just in the cupboard. Wipe the jars down, and label with the name and date.
