Of Quince Jelly, Marmalade and Curry

I know that I should have blogged all about my Christmas fayre - the homemade mincemeat [jars of it still left!], the white and silver Christmas cake, the cranberry and orange jellies, the clementine cake etc etc, but after last year's grand fete chez nous I felt that it would have been a tad passe. Encore next year perhaps, if we don't decide to do a runner from the huge Vardigans tribe and take ourselves off to the pistes instead to enjoy someone else's hard work. Besides, I was too frantic in December to do anything other than open my emails!

January, however, is a time of reading, writing and reflection and, of course, marmalade making. Having been stuck indoors with a nasty 'flu bug, by the time I could lumber downstairs again I was bored silly. I'm on a bit of a post festive season diet so baking was a temptation too far. Instead, my eyes alighted onto the two hitherto unripe quinces that I had bought in the supermarket in Cazeres last November. I have loved 'Membrillo', that delicious Spanish quince jam made from pulped and pureed quinces, with my Manchego or goat's cheese since I acquired the taste for it whilst living in Madrid.

There is something almost primeval in making quince jelly. This fine, knobbly fruit, inedible when raw but deliciously complex when cooked, is native to the Levant, specifically Iran and northern India and Pakistan. It was introduced to Greece, according to legend, by Aphrodite, to whom it remained sacred. Thus it became a ritual offering at ancient Greek weddings. It was very popular in the kitchens of ancient Rome too and its cultivation spread to Syria, the Caucasus and the Balkans. Now it grows in Europe too, but needs good sunshine and zero frost to ripen. It is believed that the term 'marmalade' originally meant 'quince jam', derived from the Portuguese name for a quince, 'marmelo'.

I made my quince jelly from a basic recipe by the erudite Jane Grigson, using the simple ratio of 1lb of sugar [500g] to 1 pint strained quince juice [600 ml]. I made up the initial quantity with a few left over apples. As I want to use it with savouries, I also added the juice of 3 lemons and a good quantity of roughly ground black pepper, which looks gorgeous suspended in the set jelly in the jar. Just to finish off, I couldn't resist the temptation to rush outside for a few sprigs of rosemary as well to pop into the centre of the jars. It looks and tastes fantastic.

No January is complete unless a decent stash of marmalade is lined up on the shelves of the pantry. It's not a French delicacy, I know, but I can't bear to be without the tangy taste of bitter citrus on my hot croissant in the months before apricots ripen and appear at the market. For me, marmalade brightens cold winter and cool spring mornings. Actually, it lifts our sagging spirits at any time of year. When the marmalade is finished, it's time to get cracking on the apricot jam. So the cycle continues. I especially like to use the marmalade to warm for a sauce for my Sephardic Orange Cake [from Claudia Roden's fabulous 'Book of Jewish Food'].

I make my marmalade to a recipe by Rose Prince, with the addition of a few tablespoons of Drambuie, a liqueur made with aged malt whiskies and spiced honey supposedly since 1745. I use Drambuie rather than single malt because I never drink it! I like lots of peel and a jewel coloured clear orange jelly, rather than the dark and sultry heavier style of thick cut marmalade. Boiling the oranges whole for an hour or so makes slicing easy, and also makes the peel easily digestible in a thick cut marmalade. Getting semi- raw peel stuck in one's teeth is a deeply unpleasant experience. The boiling also makes it very easy to spoon out the flesh and the pips and using just 15 oranges at a time makes the whole process very manageable.

Rose Prince's Marmalade

Put 15 Seville oranges in a large pan and cover with 4 litres of water. Bring to the boil and simmer for 1 hour until the oranges have softened.

Lift out the oranges, leaving the cooking liquid in the pan. Allow the oranges to cool, then cut into quarters and scoop out all the flesh and pips, holding over a bowl to catch surplus juice.

Transfer the pulp to a muslin bag and tie up, and put back into the pan with the cooking liquid.

Slice the orange skin quarters to your preferred thickness.

Add 2 kg preserving sugar to the pan and heat gently, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the sugar has melted.

Boil to a 'rolling boil' for about an hour until the mixture has reduced by at least a third. Just before the hour of boiling is up, add the Drambuie or whisky, if using.

Test to see if the marmalade is ready by putting a little on a cold plate. if a skin forms, it's ready to pot. If not, boil for another 10 - 15 minutes and re-test.

Remove the muslin bag, squeezing as much juice from its contents as possible. Sterilise jars in the dishwasher or oven and pot. Voila! Something to be proud of in the months to come!

Aside from jam making, my current obsession is curry making. I have just done two weeks of the most fabulous 'curry school', run by the amazing chefs from 'Anokaa', with four more weeks to go. I love it! Unlike the UK, the cuisine of France has been little influenced by its Indian colony, despite 'La Compagnie Francaise des Indes Orientales' being formed in 1642 under the auspices of Cardinal Richelieu. At its height, French East India in the 18th century comprised 203 square miles along the east coast of India. Many years ago, I spent some time at the ashram in Pondicherry, now called Puducherry, and marvelled at the subtlety of the French influenced cuisine in the local restaurants. It was true 'fusion food'.

I am reading everything and anything about the spice trade and the different spices involved in Indian cooking. My hand luggage is full of jars for Bardies - turmeric, fenugreek, asafoetida, cardamon, curry leaves, black mustard seeds, onion seeds, mango powder and tamarind to add to my existing stocks of cayenne, chilli powder, cinnamon, cloves, coriander seeds, cumin, fennel seed,nutmeg and mace, paprika, peppercorns and saffron. I cook so much French, Spanish and Italian food, with north African and middle eastern food a close second, whilst at Bardies, it will be good to ring the changes. Every so often I get the urge for something seriously hot and spicy, no matter how high the temperature guage. Watch this space! If the French in Puducherry could do it, then so can I!