Why don't we eat more marmalade? It's seriously the best stuff ever, but I rarely buy it, yet love it all the same.
My wonderful cousin brought my mother some cumquat marmalade on a visit over ANZAC Day. I'm sure she made it herself - and it is utterly wonderful.
Needing a mid-afternoon snack, I made myself a slice of toast, buttered it up and spread a spoonful of marmalade over it. It's filled the gap seeing I've got a late dinner in town tonight.
I love the almost jelly like texture. I love how the sweetness mixes in the tartness. I love the stringy bits of softened peel.
Of course, my favourite marmalade is Roses Lime Marmalade - that is incredible.
But this stuff is up there.
I come from a family of jam makers. One enduring memory of my grandfather is stirring the blackberry jam. We'd go down the swamp and obtain a couple of kilograms of the elicit, illegal berries (I believe you have to destroy blackberry bushes as they are pernicious weeks. My dog used to love eating the low hanging fruit. Then the old family recipe - kilo of sugar, kilo of fruit, boiled up until it sets on a cold plate - stirred regularly.
It brings back memories.
And marmalade is such an English thing.
Well, that's what's made my day. Marmalade on toast.
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