The weak winter sunlight falls in watery beams through the window onto the hundreds of jars of different marmalade set out on the white tablecloth. They shine with the diffused light \u2013 orange, amber, tawny and golden \u2013 taking on a glorious ethereal radiance. They look, against the dark oak panelling of the old dining room, like jars of bottled winter sunshine. Something about them makes you smile.<\/p>\n
This is the third annual World Marmalade Festival. If that sounds rather grand so is Dalemain, the historic house in the Lake District which houses it. Since medieval times this little stately home \u2013 its name means \u201cmanor in the valley\u201d in Anglo-Norman \u2013 has quietly presided over the good farmland below the northern Lakeland fells to the north of Ullswater. Some 30 years ago however the grey-pink stoned house \u2013 which had been home to a single family, the Hasells, since 1679 \u2013 surrendered its privacy and was opened to the public to defray the costs of the upkeep of its fine Tudor and early Georgian architecture.<\/p>\n
But if you think that a Marmalade Festival is merely part of a desperate strategy to keep the visitors coming you have not met Jane Hasell-McCosh, of whom more shortly. Nor do you truly understand the full role that marmalade plays in the British psyche.<\/p>\n
Marmalade, those in touch with metropolitan culinary chic inform me, is the next big trendy thing. But up here in Cumbria you encounter a much more rooted cultural reality.<\/p>\n
Over by the window five women in white coats are in earnest conversation over their notes. They look like a group of hospital scientists. But this is more serious. They are the marmalade judges of the Cumberland\/Cumbria branch of the Women\u2019s Institute. And not just any judges. There may be celebrities to judge the lesser categories \u2013 Dark and Chunky, Any Citrus and Marmalades made by Men, Clergy, Politicians and Peers of the Realm. But only the WI can adjudicate on the most elite of categories. These are the women of the pure Seville.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe judge on appearance, presentation, set, aroma and flavour,\u201d explains Margaret Lamb, a marmalade-maker for 50 years. Mrs Lamb, now retired, was once the lecturer who taught jam, marmalade and chutney at the Cumbrian College of Agriculture \u2013 than which there can be no greater qualification. \u201cThe peel must be cooked. The jelly should be clear and sparkle.\u201d Her standards are, shall we say, exacting, though not utterly ruthless.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is a honey jar,\u201d says one of her fellow judges darkly, elevating the guilty offering. \u201cIn a WI competition that would be disqualified.\u201d The WI handbook states that the \u2018cover and container should be correct, and suitable for the preservation of the contents\u2019 and a honey jar is not deemed sufficiently airtight. \u201cBut we\u2019re a bit more relaxed with entries from the general public.\u201d<\/p>\n
The WI does not approve of the dark thick Oxford variety, which is either overcooked or contains molasses. When the festival launched in 2006 \u2013 with 70 pots donated by Mrs Hasell-McCosh\u2019s numerous friends to raise money for the local \u201cHospice At Home\u201d scheme \u2013 there was only one general marmalade category. Last year classes were introduced for Seville, other citrus, and marmalades made by men and children. This year there are more categories still to accommodate the 411 entries which have arrived from all over the country, and further afield with entries from Canada and Japan.<\/p>\n
The Japanese are newcomers to the art. Not having Sevilles they use a fruit called the yuzu<\/em>, which like the Seville orange has a short season of just three weeks. Until recently its only use was that its peel added fragrance to winter baths to ward off colds. But the Japanese are moving into marmalade like they did into motorbikes \u2013 though the light, sharp, delicate preserve yuzu<\/em> produces is a style not likely to impress the WI. \u201cThe whole country judges to the same standard \u2013 this is the thing, says Mrs Lord. \u201cIf it\u2019s a traditional Seville orange marmalade it should taste of the orange\u201d.<\/p>\n The food historian Ivan Day, at the festival to give the keynote lecture along with historical recipe demonstrations, sagely shakes his head at that. Tradition is out of step with history here. \u201cEvery foodstuff that has any kind of history picks up mythology on the way,\u201d he says. \u201cThere is evidence that we had quince marmalade called chardequince<\/em> from around the time of the Battle of Agincourt in 1415.\u201d Mary Queen of Scots used a quince version of it to cure sea-sickness \u2013 \u201cMarmelade pour Marie malade\u201d \u2013 and Mary Tudor used a marmalade made of quinces, orange peel, sugar, almonds, rosewater, musk, ambergris, cinnamon, cloves, ginger and mace to help her get pregnant. (It didn\u2019t work).<\/p>\n Orange marmalade has been made in England since the late Tudor period. Ivan Day has a recipe from around 1615 and many variations from the 1730s. By the Victorian era our current notion of marmalade \u2013 in which the intensely sharp Seville oranges are tempered by the sweetness of the sugar to produce a fresh yet intense orange fragrance and flavour unmatched in any preserve anywhere in the world \u2013 was well-established. Jars of it travelled the world with colonial administrators throughout the days of the British Empire. Queen Victoria\u2019s grand-daughters had it sent to them when they became the Empress of Russia and the Queen of Greece. Captain Scott took it with him in 1911 on his expedition to the Antarctic where a jar was found, in perfect condition, 70 years later.<\/p>\n In the process marmalade turned from a mere food into an icon of Englishness, embodying all the qualities the English like to cherish in themselves: unique, eccentric, bitter-sweet. And, at its best, it has about it \u2013 as the homemade concoctions, lovingly made and carefully labelled, sent for judging in the festival showed \u2013 the bumbling nobility of the amateur. As the Blessed Delia has put it, \u201chowever good the shop-bought versions are, they can never match what can be made at home from just three simple ingredients \u2013 Seville oranges, water and sugar\u201d.<\/p>\n Scots will bridle at all this. As well as the story about Mary of Scotland they have the legend put about by Keillers of Dundee, implying the preserve was the invention of one Mrs Keiller, whose husband (or son depending which variant of the tale is on offer) bought a load of oranges from a distressed chip in Dundee harbour and took it home to be made into jam. The woman behind the World Marmalade Festival, a force of nature named Janet Hasell-McCosh, the chatelaine of Dalemain, huffs at this. She has in her possession a book of receits by one of the family ancestors, Elizabeth Rainbow, dating back to the 17th<\/sup> century which contains lots of recipes for marmalade with oranges.<\/p>\n \u201cThe Scots can\u2019t have this one. I think we can lay claim to being the home of marmalade,\u201d she says with fierce enthusiasm. \u201cI\u2019m passionate about this. Marmalade has been my passion ever since I made it with my mother as a child.\u201d<\/p>\n She has erected a series on interlocking marquees at the side of the house. This is where the \u201cother\u201d categories are being judged. The Men\u2019s section, with around 80 entries, is being sampled by Colin Akrigg, the head chef at the Michelin-starred Sharrow Bay restaurant and the tv chef Annette Gibbons. Marmalades with lemon, grapefruit, lime, blood orange and even pineapple are being scrutinised by Pam Corbin of the artisan marmalade-makers Thursday Cottage and Eric Fraunfelter, Master of the Worshipful Company of Fruiterers. And Dark and Chunky is in the hands of the artisan baker Dan Lepard (who has done pioneering work with Alastair Little and Giorgio Locatelli) and Sir Gavyn Arthur, Master of the Worshipful Company of Gardeners.<\/p>\n The WI turns its collective nose up at such fare. The long-cooking of naturally tawny marmalade destroys the freshness of the orange flavour.<\/p>\n \u201cOvercooking kills marmalade,\u201d says Mrs Lamb. \u201cIt makes it taste syrupy or jammy. It\u2019s the mistake most people make\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEither that,\u201d chips in her fellow judge, Trish O\u2019Hara, \u201cor they add the sugar too soon, and the peel stays tough.\u201d<\/p>\n The Dark and Chunky judges disagree. They make an odd couple, Lepard a softly-spoken, slight figure in a flat chap, and Arthur wearing his grand chain of office with vowels as round as his ample figure. But they are united in their enthusiasm for the dark tawny. \u201cIf you use muscavado sugar, or a light hand with the treacle or molasses, you can achieve that dark succulence while maintaining the freshness of the fruit,\u201d says Dan.<\/p>\n They are united too in the Britishness of the product. Marmalade crosses the social divide, says Sir Gavyn, who is a former Lord Mayor of London. \u201cThere are jars here made by everybody from a countess, two bishops, various MPs, Bed and Breakfast landladies and housewives \u2013 every aspect of the community. Creating your own food fulfils a basic instinct.\u201d<\/p>\n It shows, says Lepard, that Britons\u2019 interest in food is not restricted to sitting watching sophisticated culinary extravaganzas on television while eating a supermarket ready-meals. \u201cAll across Britain there are people making marmalade, sewing, knitting and gardening. Doing something carefully, and well, enriches people \u2013 and in the winter, the darkest time of the year when there are no native flowers, the heady smell of cooking oranges fills the house like the scent of a enormous vase of flowers.\u201d More than that, there is something about marmalade-making that brings out our humanity and generosity. \u201cPeople make a big batch and they give jars away to their friends. I have never come across such a thing as a marmalade miser.\u201d<\/p>\n You can, it seems however, have too much of a good thing. Over at the Man-Made section the Michelin-starred chef is wilting. Colin Akrigg is now on his 48th tasting and his palate \u2013 despite occasional spoonfuls of natural yoghurt or sips of coffee \u2013 is becoming jaded. He battles dutifully on to the end and the final tasting where the judges in each category taste the winners in the other classes.<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t tasted a bad one really all day,\u201d says Sir Gayvn manfully. He and Dan Lepard have settled on a treackly but subtle Dark Chunky from the Yukon. The Citrus judges are wavering between a classic Seville and a blood orange confection. Colin Akrigg and Annette Gibbons have gone back to one of the less sweet Seville Orange Marmalades they tasted earlier in the day. But when the final Best in Show tasting comes is it a WI classic which wins the day. The winner is telephoned and she arranges to travel up from Somerset the next day to collect the specially commissioned silver marmalade spoon to be awarded to the top prize.<\/p>\n Finally, the judging is over. The next day 600 Brownies and cubs, Rainbows and Beavers, will descend upon Dalemain in honour of Paddington Bear\u2019s 50th birthday. (The author Michael Bond recently announced that Paddington has reverted to marmalade for his sandwiches after Hollywood filmmakers briefly flirted with Marmite, horror of horrors). The day after some 2,000 marmalade enthusiasts would turn up to inspect the festival entries and sample a range of fare supplied by some of the county\u2019s top artisan food producers all offering food with a citrus theme and selling the official Festival Marmalade of Seville oranges and Cumbrian quince.<\/p>\n \u201cWit,\u201d said Noel Coward, \u201cought to be a glorious treat, like caviar \u2013 never spread it about like marmalade.\u201d When it comes to marmalade itself, on the other hand, no such reservation need apply. And there are still Seville oranges in the shops.<\/p>\n