Tuesday, 13 January 2009
My life doesn't tend towards domestic goddessery, though I do love baking on the rare occasions that I actually get the time. Marmalade making, which seems one of those things that is the entire essence of goddessery, is something about which I have very mixed feelings. Firstly, I can't bear the stuff, but my husband loves it, and I do like doing something for him I know he'll like (makes a change to my banging on about any of my particular hobby horses). I also like the ego stroking that goes with people liking the end result. Despite hating marmalade myself, I'm told I do a pretty decent job. The same is true for cooking sausages, which I also don't like. Not entirely certain why this is.
I do hate though, the endless faff which making marmalade seems to involve, though this is partially my fault for choosing the more intensive jelly method. My friend Patricia, who makes an incredible 100 jars a year (yes really) chops everything up in one go and then cooks. I pre-cook the oranges, and then chop the soft peel, cook the scooped out pulp, strain and then cook. I think one reason I don't like doing it is fitting it in - it is after all, interfering with time I could be spending reading. So, I moan and groan about the process to myself as I'm doing it, though have to attempt to keep this from my OH, as I don't want to induce guilt. On the other hand, I do like having my bit of a moan. I just have to be careful where I aim it.
And think too about the money saved: not as much now alas, as I have to rely on supermarkets now our last local greengrocer closed, but still a decent amount. Anyway, here are a couple of jars. Only 20 more to go.