I made marmalade today. I hope I don’t embarrass my mom by saying this, but I’ve never made jam in my life. Except for the occasional batch of quick-set strawberry freezer jam, which always turns out, jam-making isn’t a skill I’ve chosen to hone. Recently, though, I saw a friend’s post about marmalade preparations, and when I asked for, and received, the recipe I thought it must be a sign.
A sign that I should pick up some luscious fruit from our little local grocer, I guess. I spent a day gazing at them, imagining the golden goodness they’d be when I finally filled my jars with marmalade.
This morning I removed the peel and chopped it, a forever job, but not unenjoyable.
The chopped peel had to boil for awhile.
While it boiled I removed the pulp and juice from the fruits.
And then — finally — everything went into a big kettle to cook for awhile. The next step was sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. And more cooking. Lots and lots of cooking.
In spite of following the recipe exactly, I’m pretty sure that this marmalade beautifulness will be runny, although it tastes really good.
So now I have a ton of really pretty, very runny, jars of marmalade jam. I guess life could be worse.
Would I make it again? Meh, probably not. Given how much chopping and cooking was involved, I think I’d rather use wonderful summer tomatoes and end up with a pot of chili sauce to put into jars for the winter.
Do I wish I hadn’t bothered? No! It was a fun experiment, even if it did take up my whole entire Saturday. On the bright side, the sun shone all day, so there’s that.