Marvellous Marmalade: A Cure for the Winter Blues

Yes, I know I promised that I would blog about bread – and I have (in a way) – by posting Aunty O’Valerie’s Irish Soda Bread recipe as the Recipe of the Month. Which is soooo totally appropriate for March –  yes?

Agreed, then. BUT. Just one thing.

Before we get to blogging about bread there is a foundation that needs to be put in place.

Yes. Jam.

That’s what I’m saying. We can’t even begin to talk about bread without jamming about jam. (Well, marmalade to be precise!) For, after all, what is bread without jam? Nekkid. That’s what. Of course there is BUTTER. (Thanks for pointing that out.) And it is true that I could easily devote an entire post to the virtues of butter, but for now it is jam that will carry the day.

Last week, I attended a marmalade-making class. Seriously. Can you imagine my happiness when I received a flyer from the local Community Kitchens coordinator (none other than my dear friend, Cie, she of previous blog posts about brunch) promoting local preserving workshops? What luck!

Cie, along with the amazing Kathy Marven (a marvel) of de la Bouche Specialty Foods have teamed up to offer three canning workshops this spring: Marmalade, Winter Chutnies, and Spring Jams. My oh my. Needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway) I’m signed up for all three. Apron and camera in tow.

The class was one of the best things I’ve done all year. Cie and Kathy talked about the history of marmalade and the Seville orange trade – (Sevilles in season now, btw) and then Kathy demonstrated the method and technique of making a sparklingly beautiful Pink Grapefruit Marmalade. 

Outside, it was a filthy night. Inside, we snugly circled the demo table while the preserving kettle bubbled away on the community stove and the tang of citrus stung the air. We passed around odd-looking peeling and preserving tools, taste-tested oranges and lemons and conspiratorially swapped favourite canning stories as though trading national secrets.

We finished with the Great Marmalade Taste-Off. We compared the evening’s batch with two or three of Kathy’s other specialties and a couple of store-bought brands. Hands-down winner? You guessed it.

And we each went home, fully contented, with our own jar.  A perfect pink cure for the winter blues.

Next up? Toast and jam. In my jammies.

To find out more about Community Kitchens, click on the link.


de la Bouche Specialty Foods can be found at the Haney Farmer’s Market (May-October) or via email: delabouche@telus.net

Seville Oranges are VERY SOUR.

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Here Come the Plums…

What is it about picking plums that makes my heart race? Their plump dusky blueness is like some kind of aphrodisiac to me… I even like the word.

Plum. So round. So full. So complete in its plumminess.

And they fit so neatly in the hand. Snug and perfect. I can totally see why ‘visions of sugarplums danced in their heads’ on Christmas Eve, instead of visions of sugarapples or some other thing. Plum pudding. Plum preserves. Plum dandy, by me.

This year’s windfall came courtesy of a friend who just happened to be travelling the same week that local plums were at their prime. And, happily, we were available to pick while she contentedly cruised the Inside Passage being wowed by coastal scenery and endless bufffets.

Her place is right along the river’s edge – a magical spot, really unlike any other. It is in one of a rare smattering of float home communities that cluster half hidden along our network of rivers.

Hers sits charmingly on a point where the Pitt and Alouette Rivers meet. A great spot for swimming, boating , berries and generally just moodling around.

Hubby and I were delighted to load up our baskets, camera and garden gloves and head over to the point to rescue her plums from the bees and bears.

Her tree was loaded, the plums literally falling into our greedy hands. Between windfall and low-hanging clusters on the tree, I nearly filled a basket, while hubby scouted out the last of the blackberries. We beat the rain, stopped at the local Home Hardware to stock up on canning jars and I came home brimming with anticipation.

Sweet plums! Filling the kitchen with their spicy smell and juicy roundness. Saucy plums! (And that’s just the jam…). I filled an entire day with washing, pitting, chopping, stewing, sealing, bathing and of course – sweating (me, not the plums).  

I can’t say the canning day was a complete success. I learned a lot from these plums about patience and perseverence. And about practice. And pluckiness.

Still.

Gorgeously contented. Satisfied with gleaning food from its source and putting it aside for winter. Happy to be learning, or re-learning, skills the grandmothers tried to pass along.

And, peacefully, plum tuckered.