Things I Have Learned From Making Marmalade

There's no help for it - this is destined to be one of those posts full of clichéd and clueless pseudo-moralistic phrases based on trivial observations which I have scraped from the barrel of recent experience. Because, in my quest for housewifely perfection a la the 1940s (I'm in the market for a frilly apron), and to stave off boredom between job-hunting sessions, I've been making marmalade. Well, trying to. Thirty-two jars, four nets of Seville oranges, and way too much sugar later, I have laboured through burnt fingers to bring you these observations. Berate me for unoriginality if you will - just finish reading first?

1. Preparation is boring but necessary

Pity the girl who has no slicer-dicer-peeler-blender appliance - she will have to do it all by hand. Now I know what you're thinking: how hard can it be? Trying to find ways to make slicing, dicing, squeezing, juicing, and de-pulping oranges less tedious was my first challenge, and after a few aborted attempts at amusing myself with Disney songs (it turns out I don't remember enough of the words), I hit upon - radio!

As I see it, radio is the perfect accompaniment to any solitary about-the-house task. Radio doesn't judge me if I can't remember the lyrics and instead babble mindlessly over the music. Nor will it complain that I sing along too loudly. Nor will it judge my orange-slicing skills, or point out that I've "accidentally" binned half the orange peel in a desperate bid to stop the preparation process from dragging on any longer. Radio is my new best friend; so much so that when the Ipsos Mori man appeared at my door, I didn't hesitate to accept his invitation to keep a radio-listening diary for a week. Now I have a confusing mess of marmalade AND a minutely detailed radio flow-chart to deal with. And it still takes me just as long to cut the oranges up.

2. You can't rush something if you want it to work

This is an old staple our grandmothers/grandfathers/teachers came out with on a regular basis, but however many times we hear it, we still believe in short-cuts. Why else would it be possible to buy ready-chopped vegetables at the supermarket? Or spray paint for garden fences? However, in marmalade world, the rule of short-cut does not apply. Otherwise the stuff never sets. Two and a half hours is a long time to have to stay indoors waiting for your marmalade (at this stage just chopped rind and water, with a muslin bag full of pith and pulp in it) to boil down sufficiently. Trying to cut the time, however, I ended up with a first batch that was more syrup than anything else - a thin syrup with appetising bits of orange peel floating in it. It was back to the drawing (or chopping) board for me, then. It seems that when it comes to things like marmalade, grandma knows best.

3. One little simmering pan makes the whole house smell of oranges

Did you ever watch the Australian 80s classic, Strictly Ballroom? Apart from the histrionic mother, stereotyped Spanish family and outrageously garish dance costumes, I loved it for the President Fife character, who was the king of mixed metaphor. Did you know that one bad egg can rot the whole barrel? Exactly... Anyway, I think it's only fair that I inform you: the smell of oranges has almost the same linger-ability as your average fish pie. Long after the muslin bag was squeezed and the jars were sealed, the whole house smelled like an orangery in the heat of a Mediterranean summer. I won't insult your intelligence by pursuing the obvious corollaries of this imagery, so, moving on...

4. Sugar is very sticky

Now you might be thinking that I may as well return to primary school if this fact has come as a surprise to me, and I have to be honest, I'm ashamed of my ignorance. Somehow, despite years of baking and the kind of mucky-pup childhood only four younger siblings can give you, I embarked on the perfect-marmalade quest blissfully unaware that I might as well have given up my home as a molasses factory. It wasn't long before the kitchen was as sticky as an over-indulged three-year-old's face on Easter morning, and my long-suffering husband was staring bemused at his syrup-clad cereal bowl. Half a bottle of Dettol has still not eradicated the plague.

5. Some things need constant supervision

Four words: molten sugar, ravaged saucepan. Wii Fit Plus is all well and good, but for goodness' sake don't leave things on a hob unattended, even if the recipe says you can. It's just not a good idea.

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So, en conclusion, I will not be making any more marmalade any time soon. The sense of achievement is wonderful, and the end product does taste good, but frankly, I'm not sure the clean-up operation is worth it. Besides, I had almost as much fun decorating the labels. And if I have to drag any more moral clichés out of my kitchen experiences, I may give up on cooking altogether. But then again, that last one was my own fault. Some people never learn...