Mmm, Marmalade!

Is marmalade a bit like Marmite? You know, you either love it or hate it? I think maybe it is. Personally, I love the stuff (marmalade that is, not Marmite- yuech!). I love the initial, tongue-tingling burst of citrus, followed by the mouth puckering contrast of sweet and bitter that you only get from real Seville orange marmalade. And chunky! It's got to have serious, chewy, thick shreds of candied peel in it.

Most of the marmalade you can buy in the stores just doesn't measure up. It's usually a sugary, flavoured jelly-joke which leaves you waiting for the punch line. You have to wonder if the only claim to any fruit content is that someone walked past the factory carrying a bag of oranges.

So I make my own. It's a real labour of love. And this is the only time of year when Seville oranges are available. Seville oranges are one of Nature's best pranks; they look delightful, little bags of sunshine dangling tantalisingly from the branch, fruity promises of warm times to come. You see them at the end of winter and instantly think of sweetness, juice and summery citrus flavour.

But tempting as they are, you can't eat Seville oranges straight from the tree- one bite and you'll be spitting in disgust. They're bitter beyond belief. And dry, full of pith and pips. To become edible, they need to be taken to the kitchen and 'loved up' a bit. Only the alchemy of cooking will transform them into a mouth-watering wonder.

I'm not alone in my romance with this wonderful jam. The first year I made some marmalade I tentatively asked a friend if they would like a jar; the look of delight on their face took me by surprise: 'Home made marmalade? Really? You mean you made it? Oh, yes- yes, please!' was the excited response.

Now every year I make more than the previous year. The first batch is always stashed away for our own personal use, for we are real 'Marmalade piggies'. After that though, I love giving it away. Well, it's not really a gift; it's more like a trade. Some of it is used as an exchange for other goods- like the butcher's rep who lives downstairs. He gets marmalade and I get chops! And sometimes it's just a fair swap for a lovely smile. People, it seems, love home-made jam.

The arrival of Seville oranges on the market is pretty much the only thing I enjoy about February. I see those orange orbs and feel a lift in my heart. At the dreariest time of the year, making marmalade is like putting joy in a jar.