Marmalade, the merciless

Why do I bother?!

After an entire afternoon of boiling, peeling, scraping and chopping, I have failed at the last hurdle!

It's my own fault.  :(

I was consulting too many recipes, got distracted and added 5 oz too much sugar to my Orange Marmalade. So much for that tart, zesty taste I was going for...

Ugh!

Marmalade is merciless. Absolutely unforgiving. Even when you KNOW that you've messed up and made a huge mistake, there is nothing you can do except to keep going. You have to see it through to the bitter, or over-sweetened end, not matter what shape it's in. 

...I'm sure there's a life lesson in there somewhere, but frankly, I can't be bothered!

Double Ugh.

Oh well, in the words of Scarlett O'Hara, tomorrow is another day.

More on Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve was a flurry of activity. The jam-making factory was in full-swing, and by the time the D.E.B. made it home from work, I had most of my wares packaged and ready for delivery around the village. 

The D.E.B. surprised me by coming home early with a beautiful arrangement of red and white tulips. After a kiss and a cuddle, we sat and did a round of last minute Christmas cards – I cannot believe I STILL have more to do before New Year! 

One of the D.E.B.’s friends stopped by for a cup of tea, and then off we went around Barford delivering cards and decorated jars of "Grapefruit, Lemon & Lime" chunky marmalade. I even plucked up enough courage to give one to our Barford W.I. Lady President. 

After trekking around the village, the D.E.B & I came home and watched “Harry Potter” – we’ve decided to catch up on them all over Christmas.

After the movie, the D.E.B. was a flurry of activity. I should have noticed something was afoot... He dashed about looking for the CD I gave him last Christmas: “A Ceremony of Carols” performed by the Choir of (my much-beloved old parish) the Church of St. Luke in the Fields, NYC. 

The old, familiar, St. Luke's sound filled me instantly with longing. “I have a present I’d like to give to you now.” said The D.E.B. “Oh, that’s sweet, but let’s just wait until after Church,” I said sleepily, hoping to get a nap in before Midnight Mass. But he insisted, “I want to give you this present now.”

He told me to close my eyes. What was I expecting? Chanel No. 5? I don’t know. When I opened my eyes and saw a ring box in his hands, I was quite honestly stunned and surprised. When he knelt down before me, in front of our twinkling Christmas tree, I thought I was going pass out. I started to hyperventilate. When he placed the glistening, platinum solitaire on my finger, all I could do was cry. 

The poor Boy was so worried that I hadn’t said: “Yes.” I explained that of course the answer was yes, how could he think otherwise? “Darling English Boy," I said, "I was just waiting until I could breathe again.” The D.E.B. explained, of course he’s wanted to ask me to marry him, how could I think otherwise? “Darling Girl," he said, "I was just waiting until I could found the perfect, romantic moment.”

Success and failure (in the "Jam Factory")

Ambition has always been my tragic flaw. I am, and have very often been, a victim of my own success. This past weekend, amid a myriad of merry-making activities, I attempted (and actually) succeeded in making a batch of “Chunky Grapefruit, Lemon & Lime Marmalade”. (Thank you, Easy British Cooking!)

It turned out sooooo beautifully, and was in fact quite dee-lish! But, could I rest on my laurels and merely enjoy my sweet success? Oh no. In the afterglow and sugar high, I decided and announced that my preserve-making efforts would become the epicenter of my holiday efforts, and that my resulting output would be packaged beautifully and given as gifts to our family and friends. Famous last words.

My fourth day in, and I’m ready to struggle myself with the strings of my cook’s apron!

Last night, as the D.E.B. was in the living room setting up our stout Nordmann Fir tree (from Thelsford Farm, Charlecote), I fretted in the kitchen over “Chunky Marmalade - Round 2”. I was spurred on by the glowing success of finally, finally (yes, finally!) championing the testy and quintessential “Lemon Curd”. Yes, I did it!! Blood, sweat, tears and two lemons yielded two tiny, jam jars of sunshine. Such great effort for such small output. “I need to maximize my output.” I coached myself in a business-like manner.

So, INSTEAD of tackling the next round of the grapefruit, lime and lemon concoction as directed in the cookbook, I decided to attempt some elaborate math(s), and tackle enough for three batches in one go. Of course, as the evening and my energy waned, I got distracted.

After festive glass of wine or two, looking at our lovely, luscious tree in the living room, I decided that I HAD to make a hand-made, keepsake ornament to be the first ornament on our English Christmas tree. I whizzed round, grabbed my scissors, needles and a bit of calico fabric, and made a sweet, little, red heart with a navy blue satin ribbon hang tie. “You always have my heart.” I said to the D.E.B. as I handed him the ornament. A kiss and a cuddle later, and…Grapefruit? What Grapefruit?

By the time I got back to “the Marmalade project,” I had forgotten just how many bits of grapefruit, lime and lemon I’d used. (Zoinks!) This is important because of the “Fruit to Sugar” ratio. Basically, I didn’t know how much sugar I needed to add. So, I overcompensated… Now, I find myself sitting with sticky fingers, sticky hair, a sticky kitchen, and a giant pot of marmalade the color of Marmite, but with the cloying taste of treacle/syrup. Why, why, why didn’t I just relish my lemon curd success, and take my time and work slowly and patiently, working on one batch of marmalade at a time?

I have tried everything to rescue this project, and to spare our family and friends the need for excessive dental work in 2009! We shall see. If ambition is my downfall, tenacity and creativity are my saving graces.

I have learned much from this great preserve-making adventure. I have learned that I have support and resources that I didn’t even imagine. I’ve learned to take good advice, and to trust my own instincts, at least in the case of the notorious and elusive Lemon Curd. Perhaps the lesson from “The Great Grapefruit Marmalade Saga” is that age-old lesson I refuse to learn: patience is a virtue; and it helps to slow down, and take things one step at a time.