Anyone who browses through my posts over the last how many years - not months - will know that I make and sell marmalade.
Quite a lot.
I'll come back to this.
I try to make and stockpile product during citrus season and when the prices are favourable. I don't always succeed and earlier this year had run out of one of the lines.
It's a sin.
Apparently.
I had customers - local and international - rather irritated that they weren't able to get their fix fill.
Parents of local village friends visit from the Netherlands every year. The always want my marmalade and this year, specifically wanted the lemon chilli. It was out of stock. Anyway, not only do I like to keep customers happy, but P & J are good friends, so I decided to make a batch.
Well, two, it turns out:
The first batch was an unmitigated disaster.
Why?
I have no idea. This is what I posted on my Instagram at the time:
Sometimes, things just work. Sometimes, they don't. Two batches of lemon chilli marmalade, made exactly a week apart. The second photo is last week's. It didn't set. Ever. Regardless of doing what usually works: boiling it up again. Twice. That's also why the second jar's contents are a deeper colour.
So, what was different?
Nothing.
Except that last week, I was in a very bad space.
Some people pooh pooh that one's emotional state affects one's cooking. It most definitely does, and sometimes, no matter the self-talk, things just don't work out.
Although the first batch tasted perfect, I chucked it. All of it, saving and sterilising the jars.
Perhaps that was more than symbolic, too.
That was in February, well ahead of the even the earliest local citrus - other than lemons - was on the shelves.
A sudden run
It's strange how things work: I can go for months without selling a jar of lemon marmalade. I'd not not long done a stock take and come to the conclusion that I'd have enough to tide me over until the season began. More fool, me. Because, suddenly, and within about two weeks: the stock was all but depleted.
Happily, we are in a citrus-growing area and we get cheap inexpensive lemons all year round.
I had to make lemon marmalade and because when I'd made the lemon chilli, I'd done a small batch, I had to make that, too.
This time, although I was really anxious, it turned out perfectly.
No real patterns
Other than seasonal waves, there is no real pattern of sales at the market. As my inability to predict or plan stock reflects. Then, still ahead of the season - a month ago - stock of my best seller, consisting of three citrus fruits, grapefruit, lemon and orange, ran so low, I was terrified I'd run out altogether.
I bit the bullet broke the bank and bought the most expensive oranges and grapefruit in the world.
Happiness is....
The oranges, when I cut them, were full of pips: pips make jam and marmalade makers very happy. They guarantee that you have the pectin that you need for your product to set.
I pride myself on making marmalade that consists of just three ingredients: fruit, sugar and water. A fourth if you count human effort.
I was delighted when it set. Perfectly.
It was a very pretty batch.
The season has begun
Now, citrus season has begun with the first crop - and short-lived - limes. Having sold the last jar in January, and over the last three years having had access to a prolific lime tree, I had to go in search of the fruit and buy it.
Happily I found some but, alas, there was not a pip to be had in any of the 2,5 kilograms of fruit: neither the limes or the two lemons that are mandatory - also for pectin. I forgot to take photographs. Of the fruit.
I did, though, take photos of the finished product:
Because of the absence of pips, I had been very anxious that it would not set. I paid attention and did both the wrinkle test and a used a sugar thermometer to be sure that the mixture reached setting point.
And.
Actually set.
I could not have been more delighted. And it's delicious.
I sell. A lot
It still amazes me that I have regular local marmalade customers. What has astounded me more though, are the visitors who turn into repeat customers and the strangers who stomp up to my stall and tell me that "So-and-so says your marmalade is the best and I just *must..." And they do. Often the entire range (such as it is, and if it's available).
Nearly six years after I started doing the market and selling marmalade, The Husband and my market pal, J, said I should start keeping a record. So, in September 2019, I did. In high tech.
As at today's date, I have sold just 74 short of a thousand. Not long after I started counting, we went into lockdown and not only did I lose momentum, but we could not hold markets for three months. That works out to roughly 3 a week. As you see, though, I can sell as many as 9 at one go. Then, I'm usually in a bit of a panic because I don't always take that much stock with me to the market.
In summary
I have sold more than 120 jars since October 2024. So, sales have steadily increased. Bearing in mind that the McGregor Saturday morning market is my only outlet, I don't think that's too shabby. I am aware, though, that it'll probably take me until the end of the year to hit "my" millennium.
In the meantime, I'll be making at least two batches of marmalade a month for the next few...having made four, and 64 jars, in the last 4 weeks and another batch (of lime) on this week's agenda.
Until next time
Post script
I blog here, on Instagram and via WordPress to my own website. I write for love and a living and you'll find out more about that here. Content for the first two, and sometimes the last, cross pollinate.
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Original artwork:
I create graphics using partly my own photographs as well as images available freely available on 