The Marmalade

The Seville orange season is short, and making marmalade is one of the few domestic skills my mother managed to pass down.

So once a year I dig out the copper jelly pan, improvise a pinnie from dish towels, cut up a pair of stockings to substitute for muslin, and scrabble about in cupboards to find empty jam jars.

When it's done, I can go back to being a slattern for the rest of the year.

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