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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 maslin, jam pan or stockpot. (If you only make a small batch, you will wish you had made more. Trust me on this.) Bring to the boil, simmer for an hour uncovered and then turn off the heat. Leave the oranges soaking in the water overnight.
Next day, line a colander with doubled cheesecloth and put it in a bowl. Set a chopping board inside a rimmed baking tray (this is one of Mrs B’s strokes of genius; the tray will catch stray juices, and be sure that none is wasted). Pick the oranges out of the orangey water and slice each one in half. Scoop out the insides, pulp and seeds together, and set them in the cheesecloth-lined colander. Chop the rinds not-too-finely, and add them back to the orangey water.
When all the oranges have been so treated, gather up the edges of the cheesecloth and knot them securely. Squeeze out as much juice as you can through the colander and into the bowl (which will already have gathered a fair amount, just from…
