#4 Final Score: Lemon Marmalade 0, Me 1

  

   

     The mornings have had a nice brisk bite to them lately, but by lunch, the temperature has warmed up just enough to peel off the layers to reveal my grim, pale legs and shoulders in desperate need of sunshine. Looking out my window and seeing the hummingbirds flitting around the yard, splashing in the fountain, and sucking out the nectar on my deep burgundy rose blooms, I have an urgent need to be productive while celebrating the new beginnings of Spring. 

    Glancing across the kitchen, my eyes stop on the aluminum pressure cooker, covered in a thin layer of dust and hiding on the top back corner of the refrigerator. On a whim, I purchased the intimidating contraption almost a decade ago. Sadly, I have only used it once a year when it gets filled with saltwater and stuffed with spicy red onions, garden-fresh sticky rosemary, halved whole garlic cloves, and all the citrus varieties I can find with a twelve-pound turkey to brine for 24-36 hours. 

    Staring at the pot in embarrassment, an idea began forming in my head. Today is the day I will conquer my fear and use the medieval gadget to create a delicious, sweet, and tangy lemon marmalade. I begin meticulously scrolling through possible recipes until I come across one claiming only three ingredients needed. The five-star reviews gave me the push of courage I needed, so I thought, “Ok, this is it. I am going channel my inner Martha Stewart and create a Michelin Star worthy lemon marmalade!”. 

   

    I set off gathering a dozen firm, plump, golden lemons off my tree that had been enticing me with its ripening fruits over the few last months. After a thorough scrubbing and rinsing off all the dirt, I began the tedious task of quartering and slicing each lemon into paper-thin slivers while carefully removing any seeds hiding within the pulp. Now that my hands were cramping and covered in the sticky, acidic juice, I weighed out the necessary 500 grams needed and placed them in a bowl with six cups of water to sit overnight. 

    In the morning, I awoke with anticipation to get re-started on my masterpiece. I grabbed a cup of coffee to give me a jump and get my brain firing on all pistons. I pulled the freshly sanitized jars out of the dishwasher and placed them in my pressure cooker, warming them underwater. Pouring the liquid gold, lemon slices, and water into an oversize pot, I set to scooping in the heaps of sugar needed to sweeten the face crinkling tartness the citrus exuded. Now came the fun part. I was stirring and watching my creation come to a boil. With the thermometer in hand, I anxiously tested the temperature to reach the desired 220 degrees Fahrenheit. After stirring and scooping out at least a pound of foam, I became intensely impatient. My prize-winning jelly temperature was remaining consistent at 216 degrees F! Worried that my marmalade wouldn’t gel, and being my usual OCD self, I thought, “Let’s just turn up the heat a smidge!”.

              

WRONG!

VERY BAD             IDEA!!! 

    The sugary gel erupted like a volcano shooting up out of the pot and over the sides. It rushed outward in all directions, sliding down the stove front and oozing in the vents streaming in between the glass on my oven door. The sickly burnt smoke coming off the burner singed my nose as I looked in horror at the goo, becoming one with my beautiful glass top stove. Thrusting my hand forward, I turned the burner off, realizing the time was now to get this syrupy concoction into the jars! Careful not to spill, ladleful by ladleful, I filled each jar just below the rim. After screwing on the tops, I placed all the jars back into my pressure cooker. 

  

    This was it! Sweat began forming on my hairline. Even though I knew I wasn’t pressure cooking and just doing a boiling seal, I was terrified the jars would explode, leaving me with a ten-pound minefield of glass to clean up. As the pot started to hum, I sat patiently for the next ten minutes listening to the pot’s internal thunderstorm. Finally! Bells began dancing off my timer, signaling the time to free my marmalade from the blazing typhoon. 

    

    

    Carefully, hands slightly shaking, I lifted each beauty out one by one to cool. Slightly worried, I noticed my showpiece remained a thick viscous liquid. My fingers flew over the keyboard as I pulled up the recipe to see where I went wrong. Whew! I forgot the part that said it would thicken over the next 24-48 hours. 

    Stepping away, I pulled out the razor-blade, magic eraser, and Thieves Cleaner getting elbow-deep in grime, restoring my kitchen to normal. By the way, oven doors come apart. Thank goodness for YouTube! There are tons of videos showcasing how to separate oven doors, and I had mine removed, sparkling clean, and reinstalled in under 20 minutes. 

    Now back to the marmalade fiasco. If you think waiting for water to boil is frustrating, you have no idea how irritating it is to wait two days for a project just to sit and settle. Luckily, I now have a handful of beautiful glass jars full of sweet nectar sunshine sitting on my counter. My baked chicken, toasted coconut shrimp, and perfectly plump homemade bread loaves will be all the rage over the next year. Tossing my frilled coffee bean print apron back over my head, I think, “I might not be a Martha Stewart but perhaps more of a Barefoot Contessa!” 

    

My Tortoise, Yertle, enjoying his beloved strawberries last                                         summer. 

 Making Marmalade:

     

        Would I do it again? 

                    Yes, Absolutely!!! 

              Already dreaming of the summer fruits I plan to hoard by the basket full.

To try the recipe I used for delicious, mouth-watering Lemon Marmalade visit,  It's Not Complicated Crave, Cook, Consume

If you should ever find yourself knee-deep in boiling lava that has decided to take up residence in your oven door, here is a simple video from Ultimate Handyman showing you exactly how to eradicate the mess.              

        

                                                            Finn keeping watch for intruders under the fountain.