Monthly Archives: February 2010

Meyer Lemon Marmalade: Little Jars of Sunshine in a Cold, Cold World

Winter and I have had a spotty past.  We’ve had more break-ups than Ted and Robin on How I Met Your Mother.  We’re trying to work out our differences, but winter doesn’t like to compromise.  So here I am, garden-less and chilly, trying to fabricate a summer scene inside my Denver snow-globe; an insanity brought on by temperatures which are unreasonable, in my opinion.

The first frost marks the beginning of Project Snow Globe, or, my gravitation toward all things comforting: soft knit scarves…my most loyal furry companion…warm no-knead bread…the patch of sunlight that visits the corner of the couch every afternoon…dinner with friends…dinner with strangers (after all, it’s hard to remain strangers when sharing good food)…my husband…and…marmalade.  

Every year from the time I begin to hibernate to the time the sun begins to warm the earth, Meyer lemons begin to appear on the backyard trees of people who do not live in the arctic tundra;  far away places like Southern California, and Florida.  Here in Denver, winter sunshine-craving folks like myself find Meyer lemons perched on produce bins in cheery netted bags next to their thicker-skinned, more puckery relatives.  

Meyer lemons are ladies.  Feminine belles of the citrus world; gloved hands folded on a pressed floral skirt out for high tea. Complex and confident, they assert worldly wisdom in a softer, less in-your-face sort of way than their spunky cousins.  They embody a just-so balance of orange and floral aromas with enough of the brightness that we have come to expect from a proper lemon.  

Meyer lemon marmalade is what happens when these “ladies” get together to socialize.  No one really knows what goes on, but it’s safe to assume that scones or tea cakes might be involved.  

Spread this marmalade on anything at any time of day; your morning English muffin, an afternoon scone, or use to create a glaze for broiled salmon.  If, like me, you haven’t had enough, you could make Meyer Lemon Marmalade Bread Pudding…and what a coincidence!  I will be posting the recipe this week.  It will make you want to do a little dance.  It’s that good.

 

Meyer Lemon Marmalade

adapted from Gourmet December 1999

  • 6 Meyer lemons (about 1 1/2 lb)
  • 4 cups water
  • 4 cups sugar (3 3/4 cups if you like a less-sweet marmalade)

Special equipment:

  • Cheesecloth and kitchen string (Or, use an empty tea bag or metal tea infuser)
  • 5 (1/2-pint) Mason-type canning jars and lids, washed and sterilized (see notes)

Process

Prepare the lemons:  

Wash the lemons, then halve crosswise and remove seeds.  Tie the seeds in a cheesecloth bag, or put them into an empty teabag or tea infuser.  Quarter each lemon half and slice very thinly (this step requires patience, but is well worth it in the end to give the marmalade a delicate, not rubbery texture). Put the lemon slices, water, and lemon seeds into a large pot.  Cover and allow to sit at room temperature for 24 hours.

Cook the marmalade:

Bring the lemon mixture to a boil over medium high heat.  Reduce heat and simmer, stirring occasionally until reduced to 4 cups (between 45 min. and 1 hour), removing the lemon seeds after about 20 minutes.  Stir in sugar and boil over medium high heat, stirring occasionally and removing any foam from the top until the mixture reaches 220˚ on a candy thermometer.  If you do not have a thermometer, boil until a teaspoon of the marmalade dropped on a cold plate gels, about 20-25 minutes.  The marmalade will thicken in the jars as it cools.

At this point, either follow the instructions for canning below, or ladle marmalade into clean containers to be refrigerated once cooled.

Meanwhile, prepare to can:

I am lucky enough to have a grandma-in-law who has shared her vast canning knowledge with me.  If you are not familiar with canning, either adopt a savvy grandma or check out Tigress in a Jam’s “Canning 101” guide to read up on the process before getting started.  This resource helped me immensely in explaining the canning process below.

Pre-heat and sterilize jars:

  1. Remove the lids and place the jars on top of a rack in the bottom of the canning pot.  Fill with hot water until jars are full and covered by water by at least 1 inch.  Bring to a rolling boil and boil for 10 minutes.  (Dropping cold glass jars into boiling water could end in disaster, so be sure to heat up your jars with the water.)  
  2. Heat the jar lids in a saucepan of almost simmering water 5 minutes before filling the jars with marmalade.

Fill the jars:

  1. Spread out a kitchen towel on the counter next to your canning pot (hot jars + cold counter top = cracked jars).  
  2. Lift a jar out of the boiling water with a jar lifter, emptying the jars back into the pot. There is no need to fully dry the jars before filling.  Set the jar on the kitchen towel and ladle in the hot marmalade (a canning funnel helps here) leaving 1/2 inch headspace (empty space between the marmalade and the top of the jar).    
  3. Wipe the rim of the jar with a damp towel and screw the lid onto the jar firmly, but not overly tight. 
  4. Repeat process with all jars.  

Process the jars:

  1. Lower the filled jars into the pot using the rack.  Adjust the water level to cover the jars by one inch.  
  2. Boil for 10 minutes. Cooking time starts when the water is at a full, rolling boil.  
  3. Lift the jars out of the canner using a jar lifter and place on the kitchen towel.  Allow to sit for 12 hours to cool completely.

 Notes:

  • If you decide not to can your marmalade, ladle it into clean jars and store in the refrigerator.
  • Canning is a great way to preserve seasonal ingredients when they are at their peak, and it is less scary than it sounds if done correctly.  It is best to read up on safe canning techniques if this is your first time.  Here are some additional resources if you are just getting started:  


http://www.freshpreserving.com


http://www.uga.edu/nchfp/index.html


http://wellpreserved.ca/2008/12/28/in-a-jam/

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Filed under Breakfast and Brunch, Jams, Jellies and Spreads

Lemon Garlic Roasted Artichokes

 

My first run-in with a steamed artichoke took place at a friend’s house after school.  Never having met a vegetable I didn’t like, I plucked one of the outer leaves and popped it in my mouth.  Bad idea.  This artichoke did not give in like the floppy albino specimens in a can that I’d experienced.  This artichoke was a gangsta’!  This artichoke had thorns!  I observed as my friend scraped the bottom of each leaf with her teeth and discarded the fibrous leaf in an empty bowl.  Oh.  

What to do, what to do?  Can’t chew it…don’t want to spit it out…must use…the Secret Ninja Napkin Trick (I know you know what I mean).  Wait for the perfect window of opportunity, and then swoop, POW, hwappah!  Crisis averted.  

Fast forward with me 10 years or so.  I see the thorny little buggers at the grocery store, and of course, must have them (I am highly prone to produce department impulse buys).  Once I get them home, we have a little conversation. It goes a little something like this:

“You have potential, my stubborn little friend.  Should I boil you?  Would you enjoy being boiled?  Or maybe I should steam you and serve you with garlic butter.  Would you like that?  Ah, yes…roasting…the perfect way to coax a stubborn vegetable into submission.”

The artichoke, predictably, remains silent.

First, I steam the artichokes to soften them up a bit.  Then, they get the rubdown with a paste of garlic, lemon, and salt (jealous yet?)  After the massage, they lay cut-side down, get drizzled in olive oil, bathed in butter, garlic and lemon, and are roasted until they reach a state of enlightenment.  Now, as if this weren’t enough, just take a look in the bottom of your roasting pan.  Garlicky lemony buttery bliss.  You may decide that there is not enough buttery bliss in the bottom of the pan.  Add some more butter–I won’t judge you.


Put on your stretchy pants.  Break open loaf of bread.  Lounge on the couch and luxuriously dip the leaves in buttery bliss.  You’re a creative bunch…I’ll let you figure out what to do with the bread.

Garlic & Lemon Roasted Artichokes
(serves 4 as a side dish, 6 as an appetizer)
 

  • 2 medium or large artichokes
  • 6 medium garlic cloves, peeled: 4 cloves minced, 2 cloves thinly sliced
  • 2 lemons, halved crosswise (smooth-skinned lemons that are heavy for their size will yield more juice)
  • 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 4 pieces
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 2 sprigs thyme, (optional)

Preparation:
Wash the artichokes under cold water and dry with a clean towel. Cut off the top 1 1/2 inches of the artichoke. Trim the stem end, leaving about an inch or so attached. With kitchen scissors, clip the thorny tips of each leaf as well as the small leaves attached to the stem and base. Halve each artichoke lengthwise and rub with a lemon half to prevent the cut sides from turning brown as quickly. 

Steam:
FIll a large pot with water to the depth of 2 inches. Place steamer basket on top, cover and bring to a boil.
Once the water is boiling, reduce heat to medium and arrange the artichoke halves and one of the lemon halves in a single layer in the steamer basket .  

Steam for about 12 minutes (for medium artichokes) to cook the artichokes halfway.
While the artichokes are steaming, preheat the oven to 425˚ and prepare the garlic paste (see below). 

Transfer artichokes to a small roasting pan and allow to cool slightly. Scoop out the choke (the fuzzy white area at the center of the artichoke) and the smallest, spiniest leaves above it, being careful not to remove too much of the meat underneath. 

Garlic paste:
Combine 1 teaspoon of salt with the minced garlic in a mortar and pestle or in a small bowl. Using pestle, or the back of a spoon in a small bowl, mash the garlic into a rough paste.

After they have cooled, thoroughly rub each artichoke half (cut side AND outside) with garlic paste, making sure to get between the leaves, and place cut-side up in the roasting pan. Spread the sliced garlic, thyme sprigs (if using), and remaining lemon halves cut-side down in the pan. Drizzle with olive oil and distribute the 4 pieces of butter around the pan. 

Roast:
Cover tightly with foil and roast at 425˚ for 20-35 minutes, or until one of the outside leaves can be easily pulled off. Transfer artichokes to a plate and pour the lemon garlic butter from the pan into a small bowl. Taste. Add more butter, a squeeze of roasted lemon, and season with salt if needed.

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Filed under Appetizers, Side Dishes

A “Perfect” Beginning

I have felt a sense of anticipation recently.  It’s kind of like when I first started seeds from scratch.  I had read countless You Grow Girl blog entries, stood overwhelmed staring at bags of seed starting mix, and deliberated for hours over little packets at the garden center.  I may have gotten a bit carried away. The corner of our bedroom became a makeshift greenhouse, artificial sunlight and all (my husband Peder is a kind man). Every night before bed, I crouched down to examine the surface of each soil-filled pot, fussing over my babies like a mother hen.  When the first little green arm finally appeared, I felt a rush of excitement and congratulated my new friend, exclaiming “You germinated!”  

 

Now, another new beginning is here.   I have read, researched, thought quite a bit, and fussed.  I could wait for the stars to align…for a perfect moment of inspiration. But for me, things that are “perfect,” those which fit neatly into a little box, do not encompass much soul or creativity.

 I am blogging because cooking has become an outlet, a canvas on which to splash the fancies of my five senses.  But most of all, my food has become a friend, someone to have a conversation with even when I’m alone.  

 
At last, the beginning has arrived.  Finally, this seed that I have been guarding is ready to face the outside world. This little corner of the web will soon be filled with the colors and ideas. It will be up to you, reader, to create the smells and tastes and experiences.  Let’s play, create and interact.  Let’s cozy up and chat.  Let’s get to know the many personalities of our food, and then…let’s leave this neatly crafted  box and see what we can really create when we take a risk;  when we leave “perfect” behind and just go for it…

So get in the kitchen and spoon with me!

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Filed under Musings