MARMALADE

New Zealand Journal of Agriculture, Volume 73, Issue 6, 16 December 1946, Page 587

MARMALADE

By

EVA TOPPING,

Rural Sociologist* Auckland,

MARMALADE making is not much different from jam making, except that the thick rinds of the citrus fruits take a longer time to cook than the softer fruits from which jam is made. The pectin which causes the cooked fruit to jelly is contained in the pith, and a recipe which said in the directions “with a sharp spoon tear out the white pith which is useless and indigestible” was fundamentally wrong, for the white pith is the most important part of the orange in making a marmalade of good jelly-like consistency.

THE acid which helps ,to bring the . pectin into solution is present in the pulp and juice in sufficient quantities in the early part of the season, but should the marmalade making be delayed until the oranges are very ripe and so contain less acid, an extra quantity of lemon juice can be put with the peel and pulp when the water is added.

General Directions

Cutting up the fruit: The consistency of the marmalade can be varied by the method of cutting the rinds, for those who like plenty of chunky pieces the peel can be coarsely sliced; for those who like fine shreds in jelly the rinds can be scraped with a marmalade shredder, and for very busy people who need quick methods the fruit can be put through a mincer. For the marmalade ; to jelly well the pectin in the pith must be brought into'solution, and naturally the thinner the peel is cut the more readily this will occur. However, when fine shreds are required the pith can be more coarsely cut than the rind, tied in a muslin bag, soaked and cooked with the pulp, and

removed before the sugar is added. The pips also should be soaked in some of the water,, as they, help to form jelly.

Soaking the fruit: A comparatively large amount, of. water is added to the fruit to allow for the evaporation which takes place when cooking to soften the skins. Soaking for 24, 36, or even 48 hours helps to soften the peel and pith, but equally good results can be obtained by making the first boiling, period longer, i Often pulp is . left to stand for a further 24 hours after the first cooking and before the sugar, is added, but this is not necessary and is wasteful of-time and fuel, though occasionally it may be a convenient plan when it is not possible to finish the whole process at one time.

Boiling the pulp: After soaking, the fruit, pulp, and water should be 'turned into a preserving pan and boiled steadily. Most of the cooking should be carried out before the sugar is added; the skins will then be transparent and soft and the total amount in the preserving pan will, be greatly reduced. This first cooking will take from two to three hours, according to the quantities being used.When the reduction of the pulp, is well advanced before the sugar is added, the second cooking will take very much less time' and a ' marmalade of good colour and flavour is obtained. > , f

Boiling the pulp with sugar: To save fuel and time the sugar should* be ■ warmed thoroughly in the oven, when it will not reduce the temperature of the. pulp so much and will dissolve more readily. Put it in the oven in a clean baking tin or mixing bowl, stir occasionally, and watch carefully to prevent it scorching. Add the required quantity to the pulp, stirring continually until the sugar is dissolved. Bring to a rapid boil, stirring occasion-

ally, and remove scum which almost at ; setting point. Delay in removing the scum causes it to cling to the peel and skimming will be difficult.

Testing for setting point: When the marmalade begins to look clear and thick, and heavy scum is forming round the edge of the pan, test for setting by the cold plate or flake test. For cold plate test, take a little of the preserve and pour on to a cold plate in a thin film; set in cold place or draught to cool. If ' the surface sets and wrinkles when pushed with the finger, setting , point has been reached. One drawback to this method is. that the bulk of the marmalade is allowed to go on ..cooking while the small quantity is cooling “and may become over-boiled, so draw the pan from the heat while testing. For the flake test dip a clean wooden spoon into the marmalade, remove and turn horizontally in the hand to cool -the adhering preserve, then allow to drop from the spoon. If it is sufficiently boiled, the drops run together and form flakes which break off clean and sharp. When setting point is reached take the pan off the heat and stand aside to cool , until a skin is just beginning to form, then stir well before filling the pots, and the peel will be held in suspension instead of rising to the top.

Filling into jars and sealing: All jars should be well washed, dried thoroughly, and warmed before filling. Put them into -a cool oven with the door open or set on the rack above a range. Fill almost to the top, but do not overflow. Cover with a film of melted paraffin wax or circles of waxed paper. Cover with screw caps, cellophane; or pasted paper covers to exclude air. Label and store in a cool dry cupboard.

General Recipe (I). 6 large marmalade oranges; Juice of 2 lemons; # 3 small sweet oranges; • 3 pints water to every pound of fruit. Weigh the oranges and record the amount. Wipe the skins, cut into quarters, and slice the desired thickness. Put into an , earthenware bowl, pour on the lemon juice, and add three pints of water to - each pound of fruit. Tie any pips in a muslin bag and put into bowl with fruit. Leave to soak for 24 hours. Pour into preserving pan and cook until the. skins are quite soft and the total amount of pulp and liquid is reduced to about half the original quantity. . Measure the contents of the pan and add an equal measure of sugar. Stir over heat until the sugar is dissolved and marmalade is boiling rapidly. Test for setting, remove scum, and stand aside to cool slightly.' Stir thoroughly but gently and pour into clean warm jars.

This recipe can be varied to suit the citrus fruits on hand; the sweet oranges may be omitted or increased, lemons and oranges used instead of all oranges or grapefruit, and so on. The procedure is exactly the same: — Weigh the fruit; Allow 3 pints water to each pound of fruit; ' . Soak; Boil to soften rinds and reduce; Measure pulp; Add equal amount of sugar by measuring. General Recipe (II) 2J to 31b. oranges; Lemons (at least 2); • 10 pints of water. . Cut up and soak overnight as- in foregoing directions. Boil for 1 hour, measure, and add 1 cup of : sugar for each cup of fruit; cook until setting stage, cool, put into jars, and seal. The fruit can be varied as required.

Lemon Shred Marmalade 6 large lemons; 6 pints water; Sugar. Wash lemons; pare off the yellow rind as thinly as possible, and cut into fine shreds. Put shreds into an earthenware basin and cover with water. Peel off the pith and cut into small pieces. Remove the pips and tie with the cut pith in a muslin bag; put into the basin with rind and water. Slice the lemons thin and add; leave to stand overnight. Boil until pulp is reduced and thickened. Weigh the contents of the pan and add an equal weight of sugar. Bring to boil and continue boiling rapidly until setting stage is reached. If the first boiling has been thorough and the pulp well

reduced, the setting point may be reached after 10 to 20 minutes’ rapid boiling. Cool slightly and pour into pots, cover with waxed paper circles or melted paraffin wax, , and tie down either hot or cold. . Weigh the empty pan before beginning to make the marmalade and remember to subtract its weight from the weight of pulp and pan when calculating the amount of sugar to be added.

Marmalade (Partly Made in Oven) Select 6 good poorman oranges or N.Z. grapefruit and 1 lemon. Wash thoroughly and cut in quarters through length. Cut out the cores and pips with a sharp knife and , tie . in. a muslin bag. Put the quartered fruit and the pips into casserole, cover with 3 pints of boiling water, and replace the lid. Bake in a slow oven for 4 to 5 hours until the fruit is quite tender. Cool and cut the peel coarsely. Weigh the fruit and juice and use the same weight of sugar. Put fruit and sugar into the preserving pan and boil briskly until the juice jellies when tested on a cold plate. This way the marmalade can be made in one day.

Orange Jelly Marmalade 6 lefiions; , ' 6 oranges; Sugar. Squeeze the • lemons and measure juice and add three times as much water. Scrape the rind from the oranges with a marmalade shredder and tie the chips loosely in a muslin bag. Cut the white pith and flesh of the oranges and three lemons into very thin slices. Pour over the diluted lemon juice, put in the bag of chips, and soak for 24 hours in an earthenware bowl. Boil until the pulp is soft then strain through two thicknesses of butter muslin, squeezing gently to extract all the liquor. Measure and for every 2 cups of juice add If cups of sugar. Put into preserving pan and add the. chips shaken free from the muslin bag. Boil rapidly to the jelly stage; cool slightly, stir and pour into jelly jars. This recipe gives a clear jelly with fine shreds of peel through it. Photograph by Sparrow Industrial Pictures Ltd.

A CHRISTMAS WISH

Sing a song for Christmas With all their bells in tune Tuts in the sunshine Are singing at high noon— Rippling peals of music Echo through the trees, Silver magic dancing On the summer breeze. Christmas bells are chiming To wish you all good cheer— May you have your heart’s desire In the coming year.

—Sheila D. Stavely.

CORSO CHRISTMAS

The Christ-child came at Christmas-tide And knocked upon my door. So weary, there He stood alone, His little feet were raw. “Why plead ye here, ye ragged child? Begone; let begging cease!” The Christ-child scuffed His toes and said, “I am in need of peace. “Your bells disturb my mounting prayers; I cannot hear your songs of praise. The sighs of the homeless drown your chants; . „ , „ Despair of the hungry fills my days. I almost closed the door; but ran And filled His hands with bread. And ' "then . r Smiling He took His bag and went . . . 1 heard the first goodwill to men.

—Phyllis Warner.

“ Treasured Possessions ”

nrHE items listed under the heading of “Treasured Possessions? 1 ranged from valuable heirlooms of silver and china, jewellery and hand-worked lace, to letters and albums and stmd^ r which, though not of any great monetary worth, are nevertheless dearly prized by their owners. The interesting description by “London Lass,” Wellington, of her “treasures was awarded first place, and second place went to “Willow Whistle” Papanui.

zirst Prize ? Treasured possessions—it would 1 be rare indeed if the thought of them did not bring -light to the eye and added warmth to the heart. And if, in addition, it is true that “appreciation 'is possession,” then one would need no happier task than to increase the. joy of possession by sharing ones treasures. Leaving aside, then, the various ways of housing china and glass that enhance their beauty, come and enjoy with me those things dear to my heart.

Wedgwood willow pattern one hails as . a familiar friend, not only for. its fresh blue-and-white, but for the story that clings to the design. Whether it is authentic or not is uncertain, but it is romantic enough to, claim its share of affection. There is another piece of Wedgwood close by— plate from a dessert service, in the shape of a vine leaf and in its /natural green shade. This belongs to the earlier P art Wedgwood’s career, when he first began to fellow his father, his grandfather, and great-grandfather, . all makers of fine and beautiful china.

Two small pieces of Dutch pottery are worth our notice, one a small bowl and the other the shape of a wooden shoe. Soft, subdued yellow, blue, and green, under a dull glaze, they are a harmonious pair. Mention of pottery sets up a train of recollection: “Pottery —potter— the Potter! A . surprisingly long way back it goes, to the early 16th century. He was a Frenchman, born in 1510, and apprenticed to a glass-painter. He later became a

travelling workman, with a deepseated love of natural history and geology. While at Saintes he was shown a cup, probably of Chinese porcelain, then one of the wonders of Europe., He determined, to use his own expressive phrase, “like a man who gropes in the dark,” to discover the secret of its manufacture. He had no equipment but a knowledge of peasant pottery, and toiled on for 16 years, through a succession of heart-breaking failures. It brought his family to poverty, for he was often reduced to burning his furnitureeven the floor boards— fire his furnace. Longfellow, in his poem “Keramos,” pictures him

“By mingled, earths and ores combined, ' With potency of fire, to find . ■ Some new enamel, hard and bright. His dream, his passion, his delight. In the last desperate moment .Pallissy succeeded—and his place in history is bound up .with his efforts quite as much as with the type of pottery he produced. These, chiefly bowls and plates, bore figures in relief of flowers, plants, and small creatures of river and field, modelled with a loving fidelity. , But let us return to our exploring of the china-rail. Set in a place of honour are several pieces of Wedgwood “jasper” ware Here, perhaps, is Josiah Wedgwood at

his best. He. discovered and used a white terra-cotta of great beauty and delicacy for . carved cameos and portraits. Some. 12 years later he improved' on it by giving the fine porcelain a jasper “dip” or coating. The carving of the well-known white frieze on the blue ground was the work ' of Flaxman, a talented sculptor and modeller. To take a piece of it in one’s hands—to ponder the Grecian draperies that seem to flutter in the wind, the chubby Cupids and equally winsome children, the peacock with his dignified mistress, the scene of a

hunting sacrifice, even the wreaths of grapes and vine leaves, carved with such skillis to handle it in wonder. Irresistibly, it recalls Keats’s matchless “Ode. on a Grecian Urn.” Forsaking the china-rail for a moment, peer into the oak . cabinet. Does “period” or “place” prick your; interest the more? A case for holding visiting cards, of mother-of-pearl inlaid, diamond-wise, lies beside the fine glass holder for the cards themselves. It is in the form of a sailing ship, supported

by a crystal dolphin. What . spacious days and leisured courtesies they recall! And if those represent the gentler sex of those ■ days, their counterpart is not absent. For, when, a winter’s night called for a nightcap” of toddy before retiring, an array of . articles was required. The cone of loaf sugar, pincers to. cut off a piece, the crusher to crumble it,, a slice of lemon, -the whisky, and boiling water —all were assembled. And here you may hol'd in your hand one of the .things just mentioned. For when the lump sugar was ready in the glass it was crushed by this pestle. We of the 20th century salute you of the latni

Would you rather handle something that came from far away? This glass mug, some 2jin. high, was brought from Russia, where vodka, the national drink, was served in it. The tiny lustre'teaset, , complete in a 2in. by 3in. tray, came from the south or France. This glittering piece of quartz is a bit of the Rock of Gibraltar, and beside it-an insignificant pebble—but it was picked up in the rums of Pompeii. Again, the Staffordshire saltglaze jugs, ranging from | to jin. high to varied pieces of ordinary-sized

Staffordshire, speak unmistakably of England at her best.. They have hunting scenes in relief, and portly squires with foaming tankards and church-. . warden pipes, in cream on a fawn and brown ground. In friendly association with them are the Toby jugs, two .plump-bodied little men. one curve of their three-cornered hats making the lip of each jug. Once . again we are irresistibly drawn to realms of entertaining discovery. For Toby jugs began by being earthenware jugs for ale, to replace the leathern “black jacks” as a safeguard against short measure. In passing, it recalls Simon the Cellarer, whose wooing of Dame Margery was not altogether successful, because she did not approve “how oft the black jack to his lips did go.” These jugs, or beer pots, grew first out of an ancient grudge held by. ' Protestant Dutch /potters against a Cardinal, of the Church who had been unduly severe on them. When he died they cut his likeness . roughly on the • jugs and called them after, him. Some 70 years later these jugs had acquired a new name, with , a happier associa-

tion. Toby Fillpot, apparently, was a drinker whose ways were the talk of the countryside, and his feats in this direction prompted, the Rev. F. Hawkes, in 1759, to put them into a song, half -humorous, half-gruesome, are its first and last verses: .' •‘/Dear Tom, the brown jug that ■ . now foams -with mild ale, ■ (In ,which I will drink to sweet Nan of the vale) ..■ Was once Toby Fillpot, a thirsty old soul As e’er drank a bottle or fathomed a bowl. - “His body, when long in the 7 ground it had lain, And time , into clay had dissolved it again, A potter found out, in the covert so snug, , And with part of fat Toby he formed this brown jug.”

Prowess in drinking, with attendant good-fellowship, thus became the accepted idea connected with the Toby jugs. And here, as though to draw us right into the midst of jolly company at some cheerful inn, is the finest Toby jug of them all! In green-glazed pottery, more than pint size, with a grin that seems first cheerful, then sardonic, according to the angle at which it is held, is a character stepped 1 straight from the past. In the Devonshire _ song “Widdecombe Fair” mention is, made of the cronies who rode to the fair astride the grey mare: “Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer,' Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, D.an’l Whiddon, Harry Hawke, Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.” Well, our green Toby jug is Jan Stewer himselfwitness his name carved on his collar—the very embodiment of the old song.

I heard it said recently that persons’ characters may be summed up by their treasured possessions. These, then, are mine, apart from the intangible gems of friendship, music, books, and nature. I leave the judgment with those who share my — “London Lass.”

Second Prize

AN oval lustre dish, which has successfully negotiated the many packings and unpackings of a muchtravelled existence, is a piece of china I should be sorry to lose. More years ago than I care to admit I was on a visit to Auckland, when a friend took me to a garden party held by Miss Elsie K. Morton for the girls of her “page.” It was a delightful experience and I can still visualise the glorious garden in which it was held— a garden which Miss Morton has endeared to her readers in . that chucklesome book “Gardening is Such Fun” and to her radio audience. Only a woman, could have grown such a garden.' It was a glorious hodge-podge of cornflowers,

scarlet poppies, and escholtzias, ablaze with colour. Little paths crept among the blooms, and here and there the gardener had made a determined effort to conform to the accepted standards of respectable ' suburban gardening by carving, out little formal beds for sweet peas, carnations, and other treasures. As one wandered through this field of wild flowers, these formal beds came as a distinct" surprise, and no less surprising to my country eyes was a large bush of St. John’s wort, which I had been accustomed to. regard as little better than ragwort. In fact, I would not have been astonished to come face to face with a ragwort bush at any moment. ■

- After the challenging glare of colour it was inexpressibly restful to sit under the shade of the fruit-trees. Here was cool, green lawn which took on a new tranquillity, and a whitepainted seat on the back of which some verses ’ had been written by

Isobel Maude Peacock, Miss Morton’s friend, as a memorial to Miss Morton’s mother, for it was here that she loved to. sit in the summer afternoons. A lovely idea, .don’t you think? One that has" always appealed to me. And the dish. Well, ; that was fifth prize in one of the-competitions, for Miss Morton, like the kind and gracious lady she is, had arranged the number of prizes to suit the number of guests. I always wash and dry it most carefully and pack it with special care when it goes on its travels, for it never fails to bring back to my “inward eye” a picture of that lovely garden with its dazzling colour and the cool, hallowed contrast of the trees.

—“Willow Whistle,” Christchurch.

Full Many a Mile to School

T HAVE lived among hills most . of A my life and they still draw me back. Our hills are almost bare of foliage except for the occasional lines of pines upon their ochred crests. Nevertheless, the valley 'also has its appeal, with its cultivated river flats and curving landscape bordered on either side by tussocked hills, while the. snow-capped Alps meet the gorge and cut deep into the valley on the farther side.

I remember as a child watching the sun rise on a winter’s morning. Being the eldest I used to marshal the family together at 7.30 a.m. and we would start out in a sleeping world of white frost to walk a full mile, mostly uphill, to the station gate to meet the school bus at 8 a.m. Half-way up we had a resting place and would stop to . watch the sun rise. There would be a brightening of the sky in the east behind a hill across the valley, and then the orange rim of the sun would make its appearance over the crest. Gradually it grew larger and if you stood very still you could see it slowly moving until it looked like a golden ball resting on the hill and you could feel its v warmth. It set the frost crystals shooting myriads of colours in every direction, colours clearer and purer than earth-born gems as they festooned the grasses, tussocks, and gorse bushes. I.just couldn’t concentrate on French verbs with such beauty before me, so I'd give it up and continue to gaze about me as I reluctantly continued on my way. If we were early, or the bus late, and we were becoming chilly with waiting, we’d collect pieces of dead gorse and place it in our boulderbuilt fireplace where my eldest brother would strike a match to it. Then we

would huddle close to the flames to be warmed and comforted ready for our long and tedious journey to school. When we returned the sun would be set, so we’d run to keep warm till we reached home where Mother would have a hot dinner awaiting us.

—“Clara Jane,” Rakaia.

TO GWENETH, WHO WRITES TO ME

I have a friend who gathers treasure, Sweet treasure of the cadenced word. (How else should she linger on “greywinged. day” On chords that her inner heart has heard? I have a friend who garners beauty ho her, dawn’s tender star is fair: A gull’s slow grace, an autumn leaf, And birdsong, borne on tranquil air. Yet though she garners joy, and treasures it, She hoards it not, as misers do their gold. Gifts fill her eager hands, and into mine She pours them freely for my heart to hold.

—M.E.T.