Tigress’ Can Jam | The Ballad of The Blood Orange Marmalade

consider me your cautionary tale.

It all started with massive performance anxiety.  I was feeling a bit intimidated.  Before I’d even begun, I was feeling like whatever I was going to do wouldn’t to be good enough or interesting enough.  Uggghhhhh!!!!! Where did the giddy go?  These self-inflicted wounds are BOOOORRiNnnnggg.

Wallflowers at the Organic Blood Orange Dance
Someone else's trash is my What? Really? Thx!

I took the Just Go approach.  Every single cookbook owned and borrowed was perused for tips, tricks and ideas.  Why not just go trad with my ’53 edition of The Joy of Cooking?  From there it was pretty easy to decide to do plain ol’ Blood Orange Marmalade.  Simple.  Simple.  Wait.  Irma and I are going to make this crazy complicated, aren’t we?

I adapted the recipe, scroll all the way down...

Follow directions?  I pretty much followed Irma S. Rombaur’s recipe for Orange, Lemon And Grapefruit Marmalade up until the point it said cook the fruit mix in batches.  Really, I did the whole soaking fruit thing.  Overnight.  For Real.

Remember up there I said up til the point… Well, I cooked it.  And kept cooking it because there was so much of it and it wouldn’t spoon or saucer test well.  At some point, I know it was hours later, I said to heck with it and thought it might set up if I went ahead and processed it.

I’m a bit of a Weck person.  I’m a Weck person and this was my first time with the water bath.  Oh, bubbles, how you scared me.  I did lose a jar midway through.  I was kinda wild to see pulp just appear in the water.

Instead of getting weepy,  I took out the offending jar and stuck in a spoon and almost cried.  It was good.  Loose and syrupy, but good.

I finished processing the other jars.  Let them cool.  I just waited to see what the next day would bring.  The next day brought just as much movement in the jar.

I looked around for ways to save my marmalade.  There it was on p.85 of Anne V. Nelson’s The New Preserves.  For every 2 cups of fruit goo add 1 tablespoon of commercial lemon juice.

I pulled the seal on all the jars. Measured and dumped back in the pot.  Added the lemon juice.  Cooked until the spoon test looked right.  Processed and waited.

Oh, what a good morning can bring.  Blood Orange Marmalade and plain yogurt.  Bliss. That simple.

It was sweet and tart.  Smooth, with hints of texture.  The bits of rind really were a candied surprise.  I enjoyed the Blood Orange Marmalade with yogurt a bit more than the pita.  The fresh, cool tang of the yogurt lifted the marmalade and tempered the sweetness.  Twas quite good.

ahhh, exclamation point eating!

So where’s the adapted recipe?  I could just say since I didn’t do it right, why would you want it?  Well, the truth is… I forgot to write it down.  Next month, I promise?

Market.Watch.2010 | 15Jan

i’m liking this.  i’m hoping to like it enough to get me to hollywood early on a sunday.  we’ll see.

Going to my local Farmers’ Market was kinda fun this week, even though, I didn’t really get very much.  I think Tigress’ Can Jam has me in a citrus haze.  And, I’m, apparently,  buying things I grow in my window.  Hey, Cilantro.  I forgot to buy tomatoes and forgot to shoot the onions.  I didn’t realize they were still in the tote until post-orange attack.

Alas, gone already from this week’s haul are ALL of the Blood Oranges and the Cilantro.

I’m into using an entire bunch of Cilantro like greens.  I had a lovely fish/cilantro/coconut curry this afternoon.  No recipe.  Just tilapia, a huge onion, garlic, cilantro, a bit of tomato paste, coconut milk, water, curry powder, salt and crushed red pepper.  It’s really whatever I have on hand.  And I’m brand specific when it comes to the curry powder.  I was raised eating mostly West Indian curries, so I get antsy if I don’t have any Blue Mountain in the house.

I’m staring at the huge container of my beloved Jamaican curry powder and thinking about the broccoli.  Ahhh, dinner just popped into my head.

N♥

where are my manners? | i thought you should meet

i brought home the wallflowers from the blood orange dance and they just make my heart sing.

Look what I got from my first Farmers’ Market visit of 2010.  Spinach, Swiss Chard, Tomatoes, Lemongrass, Onions and the reason for a weekend full of joy, Blood Oranges.

I got them from two different organic stalls.  One had pretty, pretty citrus.  The other, ummm, not so much.  But, there was something about my sweet wallflowers.  They were recently picked and dirty.  There was still part of the stem attached.  I was smitten.  I don’t know if i would have brought them home from a store like that.

Isn’t it sad how we are taught to judge produce?  It has to pass the shiny new car test.  Have you smelled some of that beautiful fruit at the store?  What do you mean you can’t smell anything?  Really? Each and every piece has to be spectacular.  How real or natural is that?

It’s got to look like what we think its supposed to look like, but what does it taste like?  And really does everything have to taste exactly the way it tasted before? I’m okay with it not.  As long as it’s full of personality.  A good one.

well, she's the only "pretty" one

Man, I am still feeling up my ugly blood oranges.  I can’t stop smelling them.  I know I’m supposed to be using them for the Can Jam, but I had to have my first taste of the season.  Okay, tastes, plural.  Yes, I ate a few.  Couldn’t stop myself.  Two were the deepest burgandy.  The other was flecked with different shades of orange and red.  It’s like each bit of pulp was given the choice of what flag to fly.

So, what am I going to do with them?  I think I’m going to go unbelievably lo-fi with it.  The ones I ate had most amazing flavor.   I think I just want to showcase that.  We’ll see.

I’m so glad I started playing around this early in the season.  I’m going to find as many ways as I can to preserve what really has become my favorite fruit.  I want the rest of the year filled with its brilliance.

Can you tell I dig blood oranges?  Don’t get me started talking about cheese.  I can’t even keep it in the house.

So, tell me, what cha got in the pot?

Nikki♥