A Head of Marmalade

This morning I made the Much Malarkey Manor Marmalade 2010. This process had the added advantage in that I was able to steam my head over the mixture for the duration of its two hour cooking time, and believe you me, marmalade has much better nasal/ear/ throat decongestion properties than Vicks and all your other leading de-congestant brands.

I was very good - I didn't cough or sneeze into the mixture once. I merely imbibed of all the steamy rich-in-Vitamin-C air, and then my ear went pop and for a brief few seconds I was able to hear in glorious techni-colour.

But now my ear is back to humming at me, though I fancy not quite as loudly as it was first thing this morning. I wouldn't mind the humming if it came in the form of something cheerful, or entertaining, like 'I'm Too Sexy,' or 'Let's Groove,' but it doesn't. It's just 'Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,' in the manner of a having tone deaf bee trapped inside a sea-shell clamped to your ear.

Last night was the best night's sleep I've had for a fortnight. I think it was the codeine. Either that or the dubious Hugh Grant film we caught the tale end of where he was pretending to be an ageing 1980's boy band singer whilst writing songs for a teenage strumpet who did a lot of writhing with not many clothes on. At least, that's my understanding of the plot. It was disappointing. I rather like Hugh Grant and his ability to play all his characters in exactly the same manner whichever film he is in. He is what you might call an 'economical actor.' It's nice if, like me, you don't enjoy surprises. Anyway, I gave up after half an hour. I did not wish to see if Hugh managed to live happily ever after with Drew Barrymore especially as he is old enough to be her father. (Apparently, they did live happily ever after, so Andy said, but I'm still not interested.)

The only other time I've been disappointed by Hugh G is when he pursued Andi McDowell so relentlessly in 'Four Weddings and a Funeral.' I mean, Andi McDowell?? There were at least 5 other women in that film he could have cast his affections upon and he chose Andi McDowell. She's the human equivalent to a Kleenex, for heaven's sake. He should have stuck with Charlotte Colman. At least she had a bit of fizz to her, God rest her soul, and didn't spend the entire film strutting around like a precocious humourless arty know-it-all with a loo brush up her arris...

Of course, the making of the marmalade brought once more to the fore my recurring angst about where am I going with my life. Aside from both having their sticky moments, making marmalade is the polar opposite of being a teacher. I suppose I could teach people how to make marmalade, but then I enjoy marmalade making so much I'd only end up snatching the spoon away and saying 'I'll do it, you idiot. Just go and sit in the corner and DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!'

And I miss having the time to make cakes, and biscuits (although I did knock up a batch of shortbread last night during the ad breaks for Harry Hill's TV Burp) and to do things like knitting and sewing and, more importantly, writing. This blog has been the sum total of my writing over the last 5 weeks. It's just not good enough.

Ah well. Only one more week and then it's half term. I hope my germs have all died a death by then because I have things to do that require A1 tippity top health. And that I'm not bogged down with school work because my Head of Department keeps saying things like 'Oh, you can plan for this during half term, and add to that in half term, and don't forget that as soon as you come back after half term I want this, and this, and that done as well.'

And we're supposed to be getting more snow this week.

Well, I'm not having it. No way. Stay away snow. If you know what's good for you.

Lady Marmalade

No, I'm not prancing around the kitchen, swinging on a pole in a dance to the famous song 'Lady Marmalade.' Although I haven't vacated the kitchen for more than a minute all this morning. I am making marmalade and am watching it like a hawk as it bubbles away on the stove, filling the house with the scent of bitter orange. This is because last year, I had a MARMALADE DISASTER and am determined not to repeat the disaster this year.

I'd never made marmalade or jam of any kind until a couple of years ago. I remember watching my Gran as she made all her own preserves and, in the year we acquired the allotment and started getting heavily involved with all things Hugh F-W, I decided then it was high time to purchase a preserving pan and follow in my gran's footsteps. (My gran also made her own brawn and I would often find a pig's head lying glassy-eyed on the draining board in her outhouse awaiting whatever attention it required to be magicked into something edible - but panic ye not, Andy. I think I'm along way from playing with pig's heads just yet.)

So I got me a preserving pan and other jam accoutrements and had a go at making marmalade. Simple! I couldn't believe it was so easy. It was very well received by the marmalade eating community in the house (i.e Andy) and I thought, I'll make some more next year. So last year I repeated the process, only this time I was blase about the whole process and wandered off at one point to do heaven knows what instead of paying attention to my creation with my wooden spoon. Andy, upstairs in his study, called out in the nicest possible way (remember I was still teaching at this point and had a tendency towards tetchiness) 'Is the marmalade supposed to be smelling like that?' Of course, it wasn't. It was simultaneously burning and welding itself to the bottom of my preserving pan...

...and three weeks later I was still trying to clean the bottom of the pan and didn't even have a blob of marmalade for my toast to ease the annoyance!

So this year I am here, watching it carefully. I have even gone as far as cutting all the oranges up by hand instead of forcing them through my blender. It's been a labour of love, the making of the marmalade this year. The 2 hour simmer is almost done. I am listening to Radio 4's 'The Food Programme' whilst I wait. They are talking about cheese-making and I'm thinking 'Hmmmm, I could give that a go.' Apparently, the trick is in the temperature and humidity. I wouldn't make blue cheese, though. I am very much of the opinion that you shouldn't eat anything that has mould growing in it and tastes like washing up liquid.

And I'm hoping that the rhubarb at the allotment will be plentiful this year. It will be in its third season and will be well-established and plentiful which is good as I want to try a rhubarb and ginger jam. It's starting to appear above the ground. I could sling a bucket over it and force it, but I don't think any fruit or veg should be forced to do anything it doesn't want to before its time. The last thing I want is narky rhubarb.

And now I must go. The jam jars are ready to go in the oven to be sterilised, the sugar is ready to be added to the oranges teaspoon by teaspoon full for the next stage and my juices have reduced by half. The pan needs my full attention. You're on your own now...