
For a few weeks each January and February, greengrocers and market stalls fill with knobbly, deep-orange fruit that smells sharper and brighter than anything sold the rest of the year. Seville oranges are too bitter to eat out of hand, and that is exactly the point. Their sourness and their generous pectin make the finest marmalade you will ever taste, and the ritual of turning a bag of them into glowing jars is one of the most satisfying jobs in a kitchen.
You need very little equipment: a large heavy-based pan (preserving pan if you have one), a sharp knife, a square of muslin, a wooden spoon, a saucer for testing, and clean jars. A jam thermometer helps but is not essential.
For a reliable batch, use 1kg Seville oranges, 1kg granulated sugar and about 2 litres of water. This makes roughly six to seven 450g jars. Work through the fruit properly and the rest is straightforward.
Put the shredded peel, the juice, the muslin bag and the water into your pan. If time allows, leave it to sit overnight. This softens the peel and draws out pectin, and it costs you nothing but patience.
Bring the pan to a gentle simmer, then cook uncovered for 1½ to 2 hours, until the peel is completely tender. Test a piece by pressing it between finger and thumb; it should squash without any resistance, more like softened leather than raw rind. Reduce the heat if the liquid starts to evaporate too fast, and top up with a splash of hot water if the peel is not yet soft.
Remove the muslin bag, but do not throw it away yet. Let it cool a little, then squeeze it firmly over the pan, back through your fingers. The liquid that comes out is thick with pectin and is the difference between a set that works and a pan of orange syrup. Discard the bag only after that squeeze.
Warm the sugar in a low oven while the peel finishes cooking. Add it to the pan off the heat and stir until every grain has dissolved, scraping the base and corners. Only then turn the heat up and bring the mixture to a rolling boil. From here, expect 15 to 25 minutes.
Start testing after a quarter of an hour. Put a saucer in the freezer at the beginning of the boil, then drop a teaspoon of marmalade onto the chilled saucer and return it to the cold for a minute. Push the blob with your fingertip: if it wrinkles and holds a skin, the set is there. If you use a thermometer, look for 104°C to 105°C. Both tests are worth doing, since one confirms the other. Remember that the marmalade thickens further as it cools, so stop slightly before you think you should.
Take the pan off the heat and skim any scum with a spoon. Let it stand for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. This brief rest is what stops the peel from all floating to the top of the jars, giving you that lovely even suspension throughout the jelly.
Sterilise your jars and lids while the marmalade boils. Wash them in hot soapy water, rinse well, then stand them upside down in an oven at 140°C for 15 minutes, or run them through a hot dishwasher cycle and use them straight away.
Label with the date and the fruit. Store somewhere cool and dark, and the marmalade will keep for at least a year. Once opened, keep it in the fridge.
A runny batch is simply undercooked; tip it back into the pan, add the juice of half a lemon and boil hard for another ten minutes. Tough peel means you needed a longer simmer before the sugar went in, and once sugar is present the peel will not soften further. Cloudy marmalade is usually a sign of impatient stirring during the boil, though cloudy Seville marmalade is perfectly traditional and tastes no worse for it.
For a variation worth repeating, add a slug of whisky or a thumb of grated root ginger at the potting stage, or replace 100g of the sugar with soft dark brown sugar for a deeper, treacly note. Either way, you will end up with jars of amber light on the shelf and a kitchen that smells like a January morning well spent.
Hi, my name is Anthony kuber. I am artist and fashion designer.
I love to travel and writing blogging.
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