Granny Barry’s marmalade: splitting the atom requires less faffing about, but it’s sublime

Granny Barry’s marmalade: splitting the atom requires less faffing about, but it’s sublime

The Guardian

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In this extract from her book, Fenella Souter shares a special recipe … and questions the very existence of the choko

I was given a basket of Seville oranges when they were in season by a friend from the country. It was thoughtful of her, even if she did have an ulterior motive. It seems she planted the tree for the sole purpose of making sure I would keep her supplied in marmalade, possibly for life. I’ve been making this particular recipe for Seville marmalade for a while now. It is much sought after, except by people who loathe marmalade.

For some reason, marmalade-haters are not shy in coming forward, unlike haters of other, milder home-made preserves who may choose to suffer in silence. Two enthusiastic jam and pickle makers I know used to press various jars on a relative every few months as a house gift. “Oh, how lovely,” the relative would say each time. “You shouldn’t have.” That took on a whole new meaning the day they were staying at her house and happened to open a high cupboard. They found a good 10 years’ worth of their bottled produce stashed in there, all of it untouched. It was like cracking open a time capsule, or a jam and chutney version of Hannibal Lecter’s basement.

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