Mrs Bailey’s Oxford Marmalade
Seville oranges, sugar, water. That’s it. And heat, and time.
Along with the Scots and the steam engine, Frank Cooper’s Oxford Marmalade has long been one of the building-blocks of empire. Wherever the British are to be found, there’ll be a tin or a jar of this bittersweet benevolence on the breakfast table…
…that is to say, wherever on Earth the British are to be found. Mars is another story; imports are prohibitively expensive, and for some unfathomable reason this particular delicacy has been classified — and taxed — as a luxury item rather than the essential that it actually obviously is.
No matter: Martians are very well used to making do, and making their own. As it happens, the Seville orange thrives canalside, all up and down the province. Come the back end of winter and the first hint of spring, Mrs Bailey enlists all the help she can from schoolgirls and kitchenmaids together, and devotes a week to chopping and boiling and bottling her own Oxford marmalade.
Seville oranges are crucial here; accept no substitutes.
First, weigh your oranges. Write down that number.
Now put the oranges, together with an equal weight of water (and a little more if necessary, just enough to make sure the oranges are afloat) in a large…