Last week, one of my market purchases was two kilos of tarrochi, the famous Sicilian blood oranges. The tarrochi season is winding down here, and two of my friends thought it might be fun to make marmalade from the sweet, colorful oranges.
So named for their ruby-streaked flesh, Sicilian blood oranges have protected geographical status in Europe. Much like certain wines, cheeses and other food products, there are strict regulations about the quality and marketing of the oranges. Another interesting piece of information about tarrochi is that they contain the highest concentration of Vitamin C of any orange variety in the world, thought to be because they grow in the fertile soil surrounding our resident volcano, Mt. Etna.
With my market bag full of two kilos of tarrochi (plus one extra given to me by the vendor with a wink), I headed to my friend Anna's house to make marmalade. When I arrived, she and Allison were preparing the canning jars and debating which recipe we should use. We settled on one, and after donning our aprons, set to work slicing oranges, juicing and zesting lemon and measuring sugar.
If you have every made any type of jam or preserves, you know it is a time consuming process. As we waited for the fruit to cook down, we kept peeking in the steaming pot. Did the color look right? Would the peel cook down? Was there too much peel? We were concerned about the color. It seemed very pale for the deep reddish-orange we envisioned in our jars. The sugar, which had to be rapidly and constantly stirred, remedied that problem and the batch turned a beautiful amber shade. The smell filling Anna's kitchen was amazing. Sweet, citrusy and fragrant. The peel was cooking down beautifully. We were almost done.
Then, the unforeseeable happened. As we were continuing to rapidly stir and take the temperature to ensure the marmalade would set properly, we dropped the thermometer into the pot and it's glass case broke. For a few desperate minutes, we sifted and strained through the pot. Then common sense prevailed; there was no way we could be certain we had all of the glass even if we found a bigger piece. Our marmalade was ruined.
After some moping, and a few furtive tastes that confirmed the warm, orangey deliciousness of our creation, came what I thought was the best part of the afternoon. As we poured the literal fruit of our labors into Anna's garbage, we mutually agreed that even though the marmalade was a bust, we had a pretty marvelous morning of working together and having fun.
Faces of sadness - Allison (above) holds the broken thermometer and Anna (below) attempts to search for the broken glass. I was too bereft to be captured on film :).
1 comment:
Last year I learned how to make and can jams. It's very time consuming so I understand your frustration at the thermometer! At least you had fun!!!
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