Making Marmalade

Each winter we have stacks of fruit boxes teetering precariously in the garage that I try to ignore until finally cannot. An 84-year-old organic grower friend sends us boxes and boxes of Japanese citrus such as buntan, a native grapefruit that yields hauntingly tantalizing zest; or natsumikan a sour, yet bright lemony-flavored tangerine; as well as small pale lemons with flowery smelling skin and intensely juicy oranges. I know I should be making marmalade, yet somehow I put it off each day. December is too busy with Christmas preparations (cookies, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day) that segue into Japanese New Year preparations (mochi making in the garden and New Year’s Eve dinner). And February we are usually in California. So that leaves a small window in January that sometimes slips away if I let it.

Now that the boys are in school, the February trip is off the books, so in January, I went to Food Blogger Camp in Cancun and Patricia Wells’ Truffle Class in Provence instead. This year the boxes had a new home in the old bathhouse outside my kitchen. The longer you wait the tougher the skins get on citrus fruit unless you wrap them individually in newspaper. And we all know that wasn’t going to happen. Also there is the inevitable powdery blue-green mold that develops. The guilty truth is that some years we end up with boxes of moldy citrus. That is the reality.

About 13 years ago, Tadaaki found an organic citrus grower and I started making marmalade from Susan Herrmann Loomis’ French Farmhouse Cookbook. At first we ordered the fruit through a natural farming group, but as the years went on, we began calling the grower directly. And she would call us back to check how we liked it. “Mama!” she would boom at the other end of the receiver…not my favorite name, but I gave up correcting her. In late 2001 we moved into my parents-in-law’s farmhouse that we had renovated. And I remember fielding calls from Mochizuki-san during Christmas dinners. I stood in the fax closet so that I could hear better, and didn’t have the heart to tell her we had guests. Her husband was in the end stages of a battle with cancer and she was lonely.

So we talked. And talked. And so the relationship grew. Eventually her family and our family met up half way in Atami for the day. Later she came to visit us by train. We returned the visit by plane (and boat), bringing along my father and stepmother. Mochizuki-san lives on a remote island near Hiroshima. Her son and daughter-in-law live on the same property, but do not help with the citrus growing and there are only a few other growers on the island, mostly elderly. I am in awe of Mochizuki-san’s drive to keep growing, despite her increasing years, and that pushes me to somehow get the marmalade done.

I’ve often had help cutting up the fruit. For a price of course. And sometimes I asked my ex-babysitter to help with the canning. But these last few years I’ve left the marmalade project totally in the hands of a couple assistants from Sunny-Side Up!, my little immersion English school. I had lost heart.

Last year when I came back from Food Blogger Camp, my marmalade was waiting on the counter, as if magically prepared by the kitchen fairies. I felt guilty reading David Lebovitz’s post on tracking down (expensive) citrus in Paris and the painstaking process of cutting up fruit for his marmalade. I wanted to write about my marmalade saga, but how could I?

The truth is, I had begun to hate my marmalade. I no longer enjoyed the dark intensity of the marmalade I had developed and longed for a brighter, fresher taste. I tried making the Japanese style of marmalade, which yields a thinner, wetter jam. It was tasty at first, but the back bite of intense citrus oil got tiring and the marmalade didn’t keep well. The marmalade made by my assistants was good, but somehow not right. It wasn’t mine.

I had lunch at Chez Panisse with some friends and my sister on my way home from Mexico in January. Elise slipped me a jar of Rosemary-Infused Meyer Lemon Marmalade made from her tree that had fallen. And it tasted like Elise…bright, subtle, and tart. But more than that, Elise’s handiwork inspired me to push myself to take back my marmalade operation.

And so I did. (With a little help.)

I roped my sometime SSU! assistant, Chizuru into helping (for a price) and together we cut up 12 kilos of citrus (native Japanese grapefruit, sour tangerines, navel oranges, and lemons), to which I added 4 liters of fresh squeezed juice and 16 liters of water before soaking them overnight. The next day, I dumped in 16 kilos of organic sugar and put the mixture on to boil for a couple hours while I ran out to the home center to buy new jars. No time to fuss with sterilizing (leaving that evening for France), I jarred them up as is. Way back in the beginning of my marmalade making, I would actually sterilize and jar up in ever increasingly larger jars. Now I fill up some medium-sized jars and pour the rest of the marmalade in 2- or 4-liter oversized jars used for making sour plum-infused cordial.

 
Back from France, this time the marmalade left on my counter is my own. And this marmalade is the best I have ever made. I had enjoyed the peaceful cutting up ritual and I had not fought the process. And you can taste that.

Residual jetlag has me waking at 4 or 5, eventually jumping out of bed around 6 or 7 to rustle up some coffee and toast with marmalade. And it’s worth jumping out of bed early (just to jump back in with my laptop propped on top of the covers). Warm and cozy, I drink my morning Peets’ pouring out dollops from my thermos cup into my favorite Mashiko yaki coffee cup and nibble bites of my pain au levain, with unsalted Hokkaido butter and this year’s marmalade.

And each year I wonder if this will be the last year for Mochizuki-san to send us fruit.

 

Susan Herrmann Loomis’ Orange Marmalade: The first year I made this I halved the sugar. Big mistake. The sugar to liquid ratio was not enough to make a syrup. It was a big, soupy disaster. The next year, I kept the sugar as is, but also cut the water almost in half. That worked. Also I simplified the recipe, so here it is: Weigh out 3 kilos mixed varieties of organic citrus. Cut the fruit in half and squeeze out the juice. You should have about 1 liter. Cut the citrus skins into a small, even dice. Put cut citrus, juice, and 3 liters water in a large stock or jam pot. Soak overnight. The following day, add 4 kilos sugar and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Stir occasionally and boil for 1½ to 1¾ hours (increase cooking time if you multiply the recipe). Cook until you can see large bubbles and the mixture is thick and syrupy. Check to see if the marmalade has set by dribbling some of the syrup onto a small plate and putting in freezer for a couple minutes. Fill sterilized jars up the very top, top with marmalade; cap, and turn upside down immediately to cool. Done. Do not refrigerate, even once opened.

Comments

[Sylee]

Those sunny jars at the top of the post are so beautiful. Will you show us your Mashiko yaki coffee cup sometime?

[Tim McGrath]

I love marmalade. Great pictures of the jarred product. There's your photo for the cover of your book. All the best, Tim
p.s. I remember my first attempt at making marmalade from my orange tree. It ended up being a sauce and never set up. Try try try again I will....some day

[Preeva]

I love your kutchen counter, it is such a perfect canvas and bsckground for your jewel like marmalade!

[Mora]

Great recipe. Loved that you said not to refrigerate, even after opening. My mother never refrigerated our jams and marmalades and we never had any problems. Then, being from Europe, she thought Americans were overly concerned about things going "bad." Looking at those huge ume-shu jugs had my mouth watering, longing for a nice glass of it. Or even better: half ume-shu and half sake over ice, what I dub the Kyoto cocktail here at home. You DO bring out the most wonderful memories from my mind. Thanks as always!
P.S. Add my vote to see your Mashiko-yaki coffee cup.

[Giovanna]

Wonderful photos, wonderful piece-though I now am feeling quite guilty about not making marmalade!

[Sarah O'Toole]

I think I can still smell the lemon tree outside SSU and I can definitely taste the tiny, ripe apricots in the frontyard. Toast with piles of butter and marmalade, eaten in bed! Sounds like heaven to me!

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Sylee: Nice to hear from you Sylee and thanks for the email about the book cover. As for the Mashiko cup, I tried to get it in the toast shot, but wasn't successful. My camera broke in France, so I am forced to use my son's until mine comes back from Canon.

Tim: It's so fun to be reconnected. Give your oranges another chance, but make sure you get your hands on some good organic sugar. One crop will probably give you a lifetime supply of marmalade. I have enough for 10 lifetimes. Good thing it keeps forever.

Preeva: Lovely to see your name pop up. How goes the writing? Check out Wendy Tokunaga's Continuing Studies class, she's a friend of Malena's and a fellow "foreign wife." And thanks, I love my counter as well. My husband did the "fabricating" so it is fairly rustic, but that works for my farmhouse kitchen. Right?

Mora: Thanks for your continual support both on and off the blog. You keep me going. And I agree that we Americans are a little wiggy about how we keep food. I remember being horrified that the milk in Belgium was often kept outside the back door. Now I do the same with holiday leftovers that can't fit in the fridge. And yes, the Mashiko cup deserves a photo...as soon as I get my good camera back.

Giovanna: I think you have your hands full with your bathroom sink, leave the marmalade for next year. Guilt prompts me to make the marmalade...so wasteful to ignore the beautiful fruit. Jam is much easier, but the fruit is not organic, nor grown by a friend. Went to Olympic Provisions in January with Christopher & Patrick. It was still as good as ever. See you in June?

Sarah: Sadly the lemon and apricot trees are not healthy these days, so they bare little fruit. We do have a prolific yuzu tree however...oh and a sudachi and daidai as well. And yes the toast and coffee in bed is heaven, but makes it hard to make my way to SSU...and Tadaaki does not understand. Not the farmer way, you know.

[Katrina Grigg-Saito]

beautiful!

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Katrina: Thanks...and great to hear from you!

[Sarah]

The marmalade looks delicious! I just experimented with a lemon chutney and unfortunately it failed miserably. Maybe I should stick to jams and marmalades...

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Hi Sarah: Great to hear from you. Laurie Colwin has a great recipe for lemon chutney. I'm not sure which book it is in, but you can google it.

[Sally]

I wish I hadn't read this. I am susceptible to marmalade fever. Even now, at the beginning of March, it is not too late. I also use the soaking overnight method--works beautifully. My favorite part (besides eating it) is gazing at the jars all lined up with light from the window streaming in. I enjoyed reading this! and all about your jet-set 'life on the farm.' Ha!

[Elise]

Damn Nancy, that's a load of marmalade! I've been making a bunch here too, but I think in much smaller batches. So gorgeous though, isn't it?

[David]

yowza..that's a heckuva lotta marmalade. and a lot of work, too! : )

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Sally: How goes the writing? I had to be in the US for a memorial service and popped over for 3 days. Just back, I'm already in the thick of things and am energized to pick up the writing without missing a beat. I wanted to bring some marmalade as presents, but had already gone through a 500ml jar and then some and had given the other 6 away to staff and friends. That means I better jar up one of those monsters into 500 ml jars. Anyway, I've got to get them off my dining room table.

Elise: Thanks for getting me started up again on my marmalade. You and David inspired me to be positive about the process and put one foot in front of the other. See you in April.

David: Hey your comment came at a providential moment. I've been engrossed with recipe writing today so it took about 2 hours for me to eat my morning slice of toast. I skipped lunch because I wasn't hungry, so had a little casse-croûte after I read your comment and reshot the marmalade toast with my better camera for the blog. I was just in SF and had lunch at Nopalito. I am not loving it so much these days. The cooks are singularly uninspired. Big mistake.

[Lael Hazan @educatedpalate]

I enjoyed reading about your jet set life and all of the interesting people you've met. My thoughts go out to you during this time and I hope that you, your family, the growers and.... so many others are able to re-group from this current disaster.

Your mega-jars of marmalade are inspiring. We have citrus trees in our yard but usually the "critters" get to the fruit before we do. Perhaps this year I can focus and harvest before they get to the ripe fruit.

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Lael: Well, I don't know how "jet set" my life is...I just prioritize food, wine, and travel (to go eat food) over all other expenditures (such as clothes). One good thing about having a farm, a well, an extensive larder, and two huge refrigerators means at least we won't be having any food or drink shortages in the near future. Though I'm kicking myself for not buying gas on Sunday. Good thing I don't really need to drive anywhere, and my little school is only 5 minutes walk away.

We have a fig tree that never seems to bear ripe fruit because the birds swoop in the very moment the figs are ready to pluck. How can they be so smart? Try the wrap in newspaper method that our fruit grower Mochizuki-san recommends.

I must pop over the the school now and finish preparing lunch, but will email you later about the other stuff. Thanks so much for reaching out.

[ohiofarmgirl]

I wanted to send my best wishes to you and your family. I hope you are all alright. Its heartbreaking to watch the news and wonder how everyone there is doing.

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Ohio Farm Girl: I am so sorry your comment slipped by me. March 16 was a hairy time around here. On the surface things have gotten back to "normal," but I really feel it's just a calm before the storm kind of thing. There is a huge uphill battle we all have to face. Up north physical labor is needed to haul wreckage and shovel sludge, a bit beyond my ken. That will take time. Of course much more is needed up there: housing, jobs, medicine...healing. Those too will take time. But as the country shakes itself off, we will see effects ripple out and reach into many of our lives, I am sure. So that is the calm before the storm that I speak about. And don't get me started on those reactors. Nothing good will come of them. But then, I've never been a fan of nuclear power. I can't understand using a fuel that creates such toxic waste that is almost impossible to dispose
of safely. Hope all is well on your little farm.