Jam

Not a terribly sweet sort of breakfast jam, not really a true marmalade, this is the rough condiment Alfonso’s grandmother made when she had a few extra lemons and some even more precious sugar at hand. She served it with her home-smoked swordfish as well as the salt-cured reading. Too, he remembers her smearing it on justbaked bread for him to eat with a slice of fresh ricotta when times were flush.

When we were opening Lucques, we had very little money for the renovation. The space had a decent kitchen but lacked a great oven. Fritz León, one of our purveyors, was hanging out with us one long day of construction and happened to mention a “huge, fantastic” deck oven that one of his other clients downtown was selling for (and this was the key) “cheap.” What more could I ask for? I bought it on the spot. I began to doubt myself when we went to pick it up and found it was so huge and heavy that we had to take it apart just to get it through the kitchen door. It was a monster, and when we finally did get it installed it seemed as if the old dinosaur had a mind of its own. Each deck ran at a specific, apparently predetermined temperature, no matter what setting we mere mortals put it at. The lower deck was at a constant 350°F, the middle at 400°F, and the top at a raging 500°F plus. It wasn’t long before the top deck was christened “the Terminator,” and now I can’t imagine life at Lucques without it. It was even instrumental in the evolution of our pain d’épice, developed by former pastry chef Kimberly Sklar. For a crispy exterior, she sliced the classic Alsatian spice bread and toasted it on the floor of the Terminator before slathering it with butter and kumquat marmalade. At home, you can simulate the “Terminator effect” in a hot cast-iron pan.

Try this with Chocolate-Raspberry Delight Pie (page 107).

Any berry will work in Old Bachelor’s Jam; here, it’s made with blackberries, raspberries, and kirsch. Some say the liqueur-infused jam was named for its capacity to warm single gentlemen on winter nights. Jam will keep for 1 month, stored in airtight containers in the refrigerator.

The bitter Seville orange is the most traditional and arguably the finest marmalade fruit of all. Only available for a few short weeks starting in mid-January, this knobbly, often misshapen orange has a unique aromatic quality and is very rich in pectin. However, you can use almost any citrus fruit to make good marmalade–consider sweet oranges, blood oranges, grapefruit, limes, clementines, kumquats, or a combination of two or three (see my suggested variations ). There are two basic ways of making marmalade. My first choice is the sliced fruit method, which involves cutting the raw peel into shreds before cooking. I find this technique produces a brighter, clearer result. However, the whole fruit method, in which the fruit is boiled whole before being cut up, is easier and less time-consuming. It tends to create a darker, less delicate preserve–but that, of course, might be exactly what you want. I’ve given you both methods here.

Season: winter. Onions are one of the most versatile ingredients in the culinary world, but they are not often given the chance to be the star of their own show. A recipe like this puts that right. Long, slow cooking turns a panful of red, white, or yellow onions into a fantastic rich sauce-cum-jam that’s brilliant served with sausages and mashed potatoes, and a heap of other dishes too. Try it with cheese on toast or with cold meat in sandwiches, or stir a spoonful into a creamy pumpkin soup.

Season: Anytime. This is a wonderful, frugal recipe that complements some of the other fruity preserves in the book because it uses the apple scraps and citrus skins that would normally be destined for the compost heap or bin. These skins are full of flavor and rich in pectin, so it’s a shame not to use them. For the cost of a bag of sugar (and a bit of your time), you can transform them into a really fruity, marmalade-flavored jelly. It functions nicely as an emergency breakfast preserve when your last jar of marmalade has been eaten and the seasonal Sevilles haven’t yet arrived in the shops.

Season: Late summer to autumn. The beauty of this recipe is that it is so very simple. Moreover, you can turn up the heat or cool it down to suit your mood by the variety of the chile pepper you use. In the late summer and autumn, look for hot fruity habaneros, rich mild poblanos, tiny hot Thai chiles, or flaming jalapeños to use in this sizzling jelly relish. I like to use red bell peppers, as they are symbolic of the heat, but, of course, there’s no reason why you can’t use yellow, orange, or green, or a mixture of all four. Use this punchy jelly with cream cheese, smoked mackerel, rice dishes, and crispy stir-fried vegetables.

Season: October to December. I first made this deliciously sweet preserve while staying at a farm on Dartmoor. Melissa, who lived at the farm, came to help with the laborious job of peeling the chestnuts, and we whipped through them in no time. Adding honey to the jam seemed entirely appropriate, since that’s what Melissa means in Greek. I like to spoon chestnut jam into meringue nests and top with cream. Or stir a spoonful or two into chocolate mousse, or dollop it on vanilla ice cream before drizzling with hot chocolate sauce. This preserve also makes a lovely filling for chocolate cakes, and, of course, it can be enjoyed simply spread on crusty bread.

Season: September to October. The months of September and October allow us to reap the berried treasure of the hedgerows–a seasonal activity that is not without its dangers, as many wild fruits are guarded by all sorts of thorns, prickles, and entangling stems. However, with a little common sense and determination you should be able to overcome these country hurdles, and the basketful of fruit you bring home will be a just reward. At the heart of all the best hedgerow jellies is the crab apple (Malus species). The pectin in this often scarred and scabby pomaceous fruit lends the setting power that many hedgerow berries lack. Crab apples produce a stunning pink jelly when used on their own, too. For this recipe, you can use crab apples, rosehips, hawthorn berries, blackberries, elderberries, or rowanberries (mountain ash berries). Usually, I go for about 50 percent crab apples with a combination of two or three different berries. If I’ve gathered rosehips or rowanberries, however, I prefer to use them on their own, blended only with crab apple (see the variations on p. 70).

Season: August to September. Plums make a lovely jam and are rich in pectin and easy to prepare, so this is a great recipe for beginners. Just make sure the plums are tender and their skins well softened before adding the sugar. If not, the sugar hardens the skins and they’ll be tough in the finished jam; they will also float to the top of the jar.

Season: Late summer to autumn. The aromatic essences of fresh herbs and flowers can be captured beautifully in a jelly. These preserves are great to have in the kitchen, as they add a sweet piquancy to all kinds of food, simple and rich. Cooking apples and crab apples are both ideal choices for the basic jelly. Excellent sources of pectin and acid, they nevertheless have gentle flavors that will not overwhelm the herbs. Serve mint jelly with lamb, sage with fish, basil with poultry or game, parsley with ham, and rose-petal jelly (see below) with wafer-thin, buttered bread. Any herb jelly will also be delicious with soft cheeses, pâtés, and terrines.

Season: June to October. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, whose recipe this is, thinks the secret of success is to pick the raspberries on a hot, dry day, aiming for a good mixture of ripe and almost-ripe fruit, then to make the jam immediately to capture the full flavor of the berries. The light boiling and lower-than-normal quantity of sugar produce a loose, soft-set jam with a fresh, tangy flavor. Low-sugar jams of this type are often called fridge jams (see p. 36). In fact, as long as it is capped when still above 195°F, this preserve will keep well in the pantry. However, once it is opened, you must keep it in the fridge. It won’t last long after opening – maybe 2 or 3 weeks – but as it tastes so very, very good, this is unlikely to be a problem. It’s one of those things you’ll find yourself eating straight from the jar, maybe in the middle of the night! This light, soft jam is fantastic in cakes or sherry trifles or stirred into creamy rice puddings. Best of all, layer it with toasted rolled oats, cream, Drambuie, and honey for a take on Cranachan, the traditional Scottish dessert.

Season: June to August. In my jam company days, when we would produce nearly fifteen thousand jars of preserves each week, my mum would still bring me jars of her homemade black currant jam. Sometimes I wondered if I needed another jar in the house, but I always enjoyed it immensely – black currant jam is an all-time favorite, with a flavor that is rarely rivaled. It’s also very easy to make. The key is to ensure that the black currants are softened sufficiently before the sugar is added, or the skins will toughen and be unpleasantly chewy. Use this in all the usual jammy ways with bread, toast, pancakes, yogurt, rice pudding, cakes, tarts, and, of course, scones and clotted cream.

Season: June to mid-July. Red currants make a superb and very versatile jelly. The red currant season is short, just a few weeks in midsummer, so make sure you don’t miss it. If you haven’t time to make your jelly straight away, you can pick the currants and freeze for later. This is an endlessly useful jelly. A classic condiment to accompany roast lamb or game, it can also be used to enhance the flavor of gravies, casseroles, and piquant sauces. It makes an excellent glaze for fresh fruit tarts too.

Season: May to August. After a dismal result with my strawberry jam at the 2007 Uplyme and Lyme Regis Horticultural Show, I decided to get my act together and work out a recipe that i could rely on to get me that much-coveted first prize next time. My kitchen soon took on the appearance of a strawberry jam factory, with coded batches piled just about everywhere. I thought I’d nearly made the grade on batch three, but the tweaking for batch four caused mayhem in the jam pan. However, batch five seemed to come alive from the moment the lemon juice was added, and I knew it was going to be just right – bright in color, with some soft whole fruit and, of course, that wonderful, intense strawberry taste. Strawberries are low in pectin. Using sugar with added pectin helps to attain a lovely set and a flavor that isn’t too sickly sweet. Use freshly picked, dry fruit – not too big, or they’ll blow to bits when the jam is bubbling away. However, if you’re using very small fruit, make sure they’re not too hard and seedy.

Season: Late May to June. I welcome the first tiny gooseberries that appear in the month of May, just as the first boughs of elder flowers are beginning to show. The berries are picked when small, almost as a thinning process, allowing their brothers and sisters to fill out and mature on the bush. But these early green goddesses are full of pectin, sharp, and tart, and make a divine jam. The fragrant elder flowers add a flavor that will remind you, when the days are short and dark, that summer will come again.