Dear Laura
So all my advice about what to do with a nice, big, dark green marrow was a waste of time – at least for now – because the THING in your veggie patch is old and hard and yellow. Don’t worry. The flesh inside will probably be a bit stringy, but you can still make good use of it.
Before you start, make sure you can lay your hands on a really strong pot. I use my big, black, iron thing, which you are welcome to borrow, but I’m sure one of Mike’s multitudinous aunts has a pressure cooker with a broken valve, lying useless in some storeroom or another. Don’t be afraid to ask. I have found that people who can afford to buy a new thing when the old one breaks, very often keep the old one ‘just in case’. By the time you trip over it in the junk pile, they have forgotten why they kept it and are only too happy to give it to someone who has a use for it!
Having got your pot, you can now turn your attention to the geriatric marrow. Cut it into half-centimetre cubes, mix with an equal weight of sugar and leave overnight in a covered bowl. Don’t add liquid – it will make enough of its own by tomorrow morning. And make sure you’ve got two or three lemons and most of a jar of powdered ginger available. Fresh root ginger, finely chopped, is even better.
Next morning, pour the slushy mess of marrow and sugar into the pot, squeeze the lemons and chuck in both the juice and the rinds – trying to get rid of the pips in the process, but it’s not a disaster if a few escape. They will prove to all and sundry that the jam is home-made! The recipe actually calls for hauling out the lemon peel after cooking and throwing it away, but I don’t see why one shouldn’t chop it up and make it part of the marmalade?
As to the amount of ginger, it depends on how you like it. My last batch had half a pot of powdered ginger to one enormous marrow. It turned out how I like it, but other people were almost equally divided as to whether it should have had more or less. Which all goes to prove that cooking is an art, not a science! So you can be a bit creative with a basic recipe, but it’s a good idea to make a note of your variations – otherwise you might lose a real gem forever, or, more probably, make the same mistake twice!
Back to the jam. Bring this lot to the boil, turn down very low and simmer for about two hours without a lid, stirring every now and again. It’s ready for potting when a little of the juice turns into jelly within a minute when poured onto a cold plate.
Really clean glass jars don’t need much sterilising but if you’re using plastic, which might have got scratched and harbour some nasties, it might be a good idea to wash them in Milton – if it’s good enough for babies’ bottles it must be OK for marmalade jars! Personally, I slosh a teaspoonful of cooking brandy round them and it adds a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ to the jam! A circle of plastic brushed with a little drop of brandy and placed directly on top of the jam should save it from growing green mould, but a bit of green mould never hurt anyone anyway!
By the way, don’t be too cross with Mike for breaking the garden fork. You’ll have to buy another one for actual gardening, but a two-pronged fork is the ideal implement for digging out carrots and parsnips. So suggest that he plants some. Yes, I know you don’t like parsnips, but I seem to remember serving them once, roasted under the Sunday joint, and Mike wolfed the lot. If you treat them like roast potatoes they can be really delicious, particularly with lamb. Be brave – try it!
Love Mom
