Tag Archives: pectin

{11} Vihreitä Kuulia

Today’s recipe is a departure from the world of Christmas cookies. It’s time for some festive sweets!

These are called vihreitä kuulia, which translates as “green marbles”. The idea to make these came from my Finnish colleague, who explained they are an intrinsic part of the festive period in Finland. They are fruit jellies made by the iconic Finnish chocolate company Fazer.


Never one to shy away from a challenge, I looked into them a bit more. They these are essentially pâte de fruit that is made in hemispherical moulds. Two pieces are put together to form a sphere, rolled in sugar and voila we have ourselves some green marbles. They looked pretty cool, so I thought I would have a go. The fact I needed to buy a new mould, glucose, pectin powder and tartaric acid? Pffff, easy!

The traditional flavour is pear, and in fact they used to be known by the name päärynäkuulat (“pear balls”). But…pear?…this presented a bit of a challenge. I wanted to stay authentic, but I didn’t want to use pear flavouring. If you’ve ever had pear drop sweets, you’ll know that really strong overpowering flavour and I wanted to avoid that. So what could I do? I bought a few comice pears, and let them get really, really, really ripe. They ended up really soft and fragrant, which seemed hopeful. In fact, they were so soft that peeling and coring them was a bit tricky, but it meant that they were very easy to purée.


So I got my pear purée, but it quickly started to oxidise and go brown. I cooked it briefly to try and stabilise it, then let it cool. At this point, it was a pale brown colour, which left me thinking this was not going to work. But I persisted – I threw in the other ingredients and added a little green colouring. I would love to say that I’ve used something wonderfully natural, but I didn’t. It was a gel colouring, as I wanted to get a vibrant, intense green colour. I know, I know, a massive contradiction to be obsessed about the natural flavour and then achieve the green with some fakery! But look – no more brown, and we got the green marble look.

I boiled the lot, got to the magic 107°C, and added some tartaric acid to get the mixture to set, and a little spiced pear liqueur for a flavour boost. It was then a simple case of pouring the mixture carefully moulds, and the rest went into a lined pan to set so that I could cut it into squares like classic pate de fruit. I did have to work quickly, as the mixture started to gel really quickly – I just managed to pour 24 hemispheres, and by the time I poured the remainder into a tray, it was properly starting to set. I thought it would take longer for the pectin to start setting, so you really do need to have everything ready. Part of the dubious joy of pâte de fruit is working with pectin and all the science that goes with it, but it does mean these sweets are vegan, so a useful recipe to know if you’re trying to make jelly-type sweets that avoid gelatin.


As you can see, this worked! The pear paste set to a very firm jelly which popped right out of the moulds. I then took two pieces, pressed them together, and rolled them in sugar. The result was a collection of really pretty green spheres. And the flavour? Yes, we got pear. We got natural pear! This worked better than I hoped, and I think part of the secret to success here is that the mixture was not cooked for any longer than was necessary. I probably spent only 5 minutes cooking it on the stove.

Now, I mentioned that this recipe did require me to buy a few specialist items. I had to find pectin powder, tartaric acid, glucose and a special silicone mould. Once I had amassed all these goodies, I was bitten by the pâte de fruit bug and decided to have a go at something else. I also saw that Fazer makes a range of these coloured fruit “marbles”. And I had a bowl of plums on the sideboard, so I decided to used the same technique to make my version of sugarplums, except I chopped the plums and cooked them with a little water until they were soft and pulpy, and added cinnamon and mixed spices to the mixture. I’ve made a traditional version before using a mixture of ground dried fruit and nuts flavoured with spices, but I liked the idea of a spiced plum candy, ruby-red and glittering with sugar crystals. As you can see below, they worked and taste absolutely delicious. Fit for the sugar plum fairy herself!

To make Vihreitä Kuulia / (makes around 50 half-spheres)*

• 250g pear purée (3-4 large and very ripe pears)
• 75g glucose
• 1 heaped tablespoon yellow pectin
• 400g sugar
• green food colour
• 1 teaspoon water
• 1 slightly rounded teaspoon acid crystals
• 1 teaspoon pear liqueur or pear eau de vie

1. Make the purée. Peel and core the pears. Chop and put them in a food processor and blitz to a purée. Pass through a sieve to remove any remaining bits, and tip the purée into a saucepan and cook briefly. Leave to cool to lukewarm.

2. In the meantime, put the sugar and pectin powder in a bowl and mix well – you want to get rid of any lumps of pectin.

3. In a small bowl mix the water and tartaric acid crystals. Add the pear liqueur or eau de vie.

4. Measure 250g of the pear purée and put in a saucepan. Add the glucose and sugar mixture. Stir well – it should turn syrupy. Add the green colouring and mix well.

5. Heat the mixture – it will come to a boil, and keep going until it reaches 107°C (225°F), stirring from time to time to prevent sticking.

6. Pour the cooked mixture into individual moulds or into a lined tray. Leave for several hours until completely cool and set.

7a. If making spheres: take two pieces of the fruit paste and sandwich together to make a ball. Roll in granulated sugar before serving.

7b. If using a tray: cut the set fruit paste into squares, or use cutters to make different shapes. Coat in granulated sugar before serving.

* I filled one tray of 24 hemispheres, and the rest want into a pan of 10cm x 20cm, and I got a block of pâte de fruit about 1cm deep.

Advertisements

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Blood Orange Marmalade

A great way to bring a bit of sunshine into what can be the very grey last days of winter is to get busy with making marmalade. Seville oranges are a British favourite, as they are too bitter to use for most purposes, but they do provide a good, sharp breakfast marmalade to wake you up in the morning. However, not everyone is a fan, so I’ve turned my hand to using other citrus that gives a milder result (more being shaken aware than being slapped?), and it just so happened that I got a load of blood oranges delivered recently in my veg box.

bloodoranges1
I know that jams, preserves and marmalades can seem like a bit of dark art, and that marmalade in particular is often thought of as being rather daunting. I think it’s really just a matter of patience. In fact, marmalade it is the sort of thing that is perfect to make on a quiet weekend when you’re just pottering around at home, as you spend Saturday juicing the fruit and shredding the peel, then boiling everything up and letting it sit. Then on Sunday, you get to do the “fun bit” with the sugar, engaging in what seems like alchemy to turn a pot of watery orange peel into a sweet, tangy and glowing confection.

I always find that there is something rather therapeutic about peeling and slicing all those orange peels, with the wonderful orange aroma filling the kitchen as you prepare and cook the fruit. All that orange oil being spritzed into the air as you handle the peel does leave you feeling rather invigorated!

bloodoranges2
As I was using blood oranges, I was expecting this to really impact on the final marmalade – something rich and red was surely going to be my reward, yes? Some of my oranges had quite dark red skin (a good start) and when I cut into them, I was pleased by the bright red flesh and juice. I was expecting that the resulting marmalade would be a jolly red colour…but in the end, it was a deep shade of orange. A nice colour, just not red. So all in all, just a touch disappointing, but not the end of the world! And of course, the flavour was still fantastic – obviously a strong orange flavour, but without some of that bitterness that you get with Seville oranges, but not the sweet jelly you get when using the very fine peel from sweet oranges. As I had used all of the peel, not just the coloured part, it still had enough of a bitter tinge to balance all the sugar in there.

When making marmalade, you should in theory be able to get a good set using just the peel, sugar and water, and rely on the fruit membranes and pips to give you enough pectin. I’ve made marmalade this way in the past with everything from Seville oranges to grapefruit, but my experience is that you can end up boiling everything for absolutely ages. This can concentrate down the sugar, resulting in a very sweet marmalade, and I think the longer you boil everything, the more of an impact this has on the flavour, and I suspect you probably lose some of the delicate aromatic orange oils (or not – I’m a home cook, not a scientist, so just a theory of mine). So I cheat – I want everything to be done more quickly, and I want a reliable set, so I use half normal granulated sugar and half jam sugar (with pectin). Sure, it makes me a massive cheat, but it works.

bloodorangemarmalade2

bloodorangemarmalade1
While I bemoaned the lack of a vibrant crimson colour in the final marmalade, I was able to ensure the colour was on the dark side. I used about 100g of dark muscovado sugar rather than white sugar. I think using all muscovado sugar would be too overwhelming, but using about 10% does make it a shade or two more intense, and adds a little extra something to the finished marmalade.

This recipe makes about 5-6 normal sized pots. It’s excellent on hot toast with melted butter, but it has lots of other uses. Try folding it into fruit cakes or sponge cakes for a robust orange tang, or add it to gingerbread and melt to use as a glaze. Or get very creative…add to the shaker and mix into your cocktail of choice. Try a spoonful mixed with gin and then add your tonic…

bloodorangemarmalade3
To make Blood Orange Marmalade (makes 6 pots):

• 1kg blood oranges (5-6 oranges)
• 500g jam sugar (with pectin)
• 100g dark muscovado sugar
• 400g white caster sugar
• 100ml lemon juice
• small knob of butter (size of an almond)

Day One

1. Wash the oranges. Cut in half and juice them.

2. Take each of the pieces of peel – trim off the membranes on the inside (keep them!) and cut the peel into fine shreds.

3. Measure the orange juice, and top up to 2 litres with water. Add the shredded peel. Collect that various seeds, membranes, any peel offcuts and anything left in the orange juicer (such as pulp) into a piece of muslin, tied securely, and add to the pot.

4. Put the pot onto a medium heat and cover. Bring to the boil, then simmer for around 2 hours until the peel is very soft. When done, turn off the heat and leave to sit overnight.

Day Two

5. Strain the liquid from the pot (keep the shredded orange peel!). Squeeze as much as you can from the muslin bag – this will extract pectin, and you should notice the liquid coming through the muslin a bit thick. Once you’ve got as much as you can from the bag, discard the mush inside.

6. Measure the liquid – if necessary, top up to 1 litre. If you’ve got more, don’t worry – add it all to the pot.

7. Return the liquid to the pot with the peel and the sugar, and place over a medium heat until the mixture comes to a boil. Add the lemon juice and the knob of butter, then keep on a medium heat until it comes to a rolling boil. Skim off any foam that forms, and start to test regularly for a set(*). It’s hard to say how long this takes – it might be 10 minutes, it might be 40 minutes. Just be sure to keep an eye on the marmalade – burnt marmalade is not nice.

8. When you have a set, remove the marmalade from the heat and leave to sit for 12 minutes (it will thicken slightly – this helps to ensure the strands “float” in the marmalade and don’t sink). Decant the hot marmalade into sterilised jam jars and seal(**).

(*) How to check for a set? Chill a saucer in the fridge. Put a little marmalade on the cool plate, and return to the fridge for a minute. Push with your finger – if the marmalade visibly “wrinkles” when you push it, the marmalade is done. If it stays liquid, then cook longer and check again after a few minutes.

(**) How to sterilise jam jars? Wash in hot, soapy water, and then rinse very well – do not dry them. Now place up-side down on the shelf of a cold oven, and heat to 100°C / 210°F for 20 minutes. Remove from the oven using gloves, allow to cool slightly (they should still be warm) and fill with the hot marmalade. You can leave the jars in the oven with the heat turned off until you need them, as this keeps the glass warm, and warm glass is much less likely to crack when you add warm jam (science, eh?). Remember to sterilise the lids by washing in hot, soapy water, then rinsing well and then boiling them in a pot of hot water for a few minutes.

Worth making?  100% yes! This is easy to make, but the result is delicious, and I think so much better than the manmade that you can buy. You can also customise according to your preferences – you can add spices, fresh ginger or even a dash of whisky or brandy to lend a little extra kick.

10 Comments

Filed under Recipe, Sweet Things

Rose Jam

Some challenges are just too tempting to resist.

At the back of my garden, I have a wall full of roses – three bushes which cover the space with large, dark red blooms with a lovely heady fragrance. As roses feature in a lot of Middle Eastern cuisine, this set me thinking: could I make something with them?

A few moments online suggested something very easy to try would be to make rose jam (or more precisely, rose jelly). The idea is pretty simple – just steep the roses in hot water to extract their colour and perfume, them mix the strained liquid with pectin-rich sugar and briefly boil. So rose jam it would be.

rose_jam

In working out how to make this jam, I found there were two approaches. One involved just using the rose petals and leaving it at that, while others suggest adding a few drops of rose extract at the end of the cooking process to enhance the flavour. Well, this second option seemed to me to be a little like cheating – the only reason to make rose jam in the first place is to capture their perfume, so if you’re getting that perfume from a bottle, then you might as well just boil up a sugar-pectin mixture, and throw in some flavour and not bother with the real thing. Needless to say, I opted for the “natural” approach and hoped for the best.

The first part of making rose jam is both interesting and alarming. You pop the petals into a large saucepan with hot water, then watch them wilt down and turn quite pale as their colour seeps into the water. At this point, the colour of the water can be quite surprising – either a murky brown colour is you use pale petals, while dark red petals turn the liquid almost blue. You have the scent of the roses, but the colour just is not what you would imagine. However, there is an all-natural trick which helps fix things. A simple dash of lemon juice does something to the murky rose water, and it changes, in my case from dark blue to a rich red, just like wine.

This recipe is easy, and while it is very sweet, it does have the colour and scent of roses. It’s not one to spread on fruitcake or gingerbread where the flavour would be lost. You want to serve alongside something simple, like scones with cream, so that the delicate taste is not overpowered by something else. That, or get more adventurous, and use it when making baklava, on yoghurt or in various desserts that might suggest warm evenings in Persian rose fields.

If you’re going to make this, just be sure to use natural flowers – ideally from the garden or somewhere wild, where you can be sure that they have not been sprayed with any chemical nasties. Sadly this means you will probably need to avoid the spectacular roses you can buy in your local florist. Just pop those into a vase and admire them!

To make rose jam (makes around 4 pots):

• 1 litre rose petals, lightly packed
• 1 litre boiling water
• 1 lemon, juice only
• 1 kg preserving sugar

1. Put the rose petals into a saucepan. Pour on the boiling water, bring to the boil, cover and simmer for around 10 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave to steep for another 20 minutes.

2. Add the lemon juice to the liquid, which should change the colour to pink or red. Filter the liquid into a large pot and add the sugar.

3. Put the pot onto a medium heat until the sugar has dissolved. Bring to the boil, then simmer until you reach the setting point.

4. Once the jam is ready to bottle, leave to cool slightly, then spoon into prepared, sterilised bottles.

Worth making? If your garden has only three roses, don’t bother, and just enjoy them in their natural form. However, this is a lovely way to use roses if you have dozens and dozens of them, and helps to make summer last just that little bit longer.

9 Comments

Filed under Recipe, Sweet Things

Kumquat Marmalade

My compulsive shopping habit struck again, and I bought a pound of kumquats. They always seem like such a good thing to buy, especially given that they are only around for what seem like a few weeks. It’s probably longer, but in the world of the impulse shopper, you rationalise these things by thinking that this just must be too good an opportunity to pass up.

First of all, I got to enjoy eating a few of them. I love the sour centre and the very sweet skins. That zesty tang stays with you for a while, even if you only eat a few. But the prospect of munching through a whole pound of them? Probably not…

So…what was it to be? Having recently got over my marmalade phobia, I thought I would give it another try, this time with the miniature members of the citrus family. I love my bitter marmalade, but I realise that if you’re not such a fan, then something a little sweeter is probably the way to go.

The good news is that, unlike with Seville oranges, there is no tedious de-pithing involved. Just slice up the kumquats (peel, pith and flesh), remove the seeds, soak, boil and you’re done. Well, not quite good news. Removing all those seeds is actually something of a faff, but it’s a good task to do when you’ve got half an hour and a radio programme to listen to. All in all, it’s probably a rather therapeutic exercise to help forget whatever else has been bugging you during the day.

I looked long and hard for a version of kumquat marmalade that would allow me to use little kumquat discs to keep their shape. It was rather a struggle – there were lots of versions that involved squeezing out the pith and pips, and they you shred the peel into strips. Well, I’m sorry, but if you’re not going to have the dainty size of the kumquats featuring in the marmalade, then you might as well use plain old sweet oranges. I wasn’t looking for shredded peel, I wanted circles!

In the end, I just decided to wing it and go back to my basic marmalade recipe, and use kumquats instead of Seville oranges. So I boiled up the fruit the night before, then the next day cooked it up with sugar (mostly white, with two tablespoons of muscovado), lemon juice and some pectin. I was mindful that there would not be as much pectin in this marmalade as my last attempt, so it would be acceptable to use a little helping hand. And the lemon was necessary to add a little sharpness to balance all the sweetness from the sugar and the kumquats themselves.

As you can see, the result looks great and it tastes fantastic. Currently (three days later) it has a very loose set, but this seems to change over time and it tends towards a light set. The “jammy bit” of the marmalade is sweet and lightly orangy, but it’s the peel that packs the punch. It tastes strongly of citrus, and there is not a single hint of bitterness.

You’ll end up with four to five jars of sunshine in spreadable form. It’s great on warm thick-cut sourdough bread with a good spreading of butter. Let the lot melt together slightly, and enjoy!

To make kumquat marmalade:

• 400g kumquats
• 1.2 litres water
• 800g sugar
• 4 tablespoons liquid pectin
• 1 lemon, juice only
• pinch of salt
• small knob of unsalted butter

Day 1:

Wash the kumquats, then slice them finely. As you go, you’ll need to pick out the seeds, which is frankly a pain. Put the slices kumquats into a pan with the water. Put the seeds and any scraps of peel into a piece of muslin – tie the ends an add to the pot.

Cover the pan and bring to the boil, then remove the lid and boil for 15 minutes. Turn off the heat and cover the mixture. Leave to sit overnight.

Day 2:

Remove the pips and discard. Add the sugar to the kumquats and slowly bring to a rolling boil. Add the pectin, lemon juice, salt and butter, and cook the marmalade until it reaches 104°C (219°F) is using a jam thermometer, otherwise test manually(*). During the cooking process, you might have to remove any foam that appears (if you’ve used the butter, this helps keep the foam to a minimum).

When the marmalade is ready, leave to cool a little so that the marmalade thickens slightly (this helps to ensure the pieces of kumquat “float” in the marmalade and don’t sink). Decant the hot marmalade into sterilised jam jars and seal(**). Then enjoy on hot, buttered toast with a cup of tea in the morning!

(*) How to check for a set? Chill a saucer in the fridge. Put a little marmalade on the cool plate, and return to the fridge for a moment. Push with your finger – if the marmalade  “wrinkles” when you push it, the marmalade is done. If it stays liquid, then cook longer and check again later. This is why you are better to cook gently but for a longer time, as if you miss the set, the sugar will start to caramelise, and the marmalade will be very thick and sticky.

(**) How to sterilise jam jars? Wash in hot, soapy water, and then rinse very well – do not dry them. Now place up-side down on the shelf of a cold oven, and heat to 100°C / 210°F for 20 minutes. Remove from the oven using gloves, allow to cool slightly (they should still be warm) and fill with the hot marmalade. You can leave the jars in the oven with the heat turned off until you need them, as this keeps the glass warm, and warm glass is much less likely to crack when you add warm jam (science, eh?). Remember to sterilise the lids by washing in hot, soapy water, then rinsing well and then boiling them in a pot of hot water for a few minutes.

Worth making? This is a perfect marmalade for those that don’t like the sharpness and bitterness of the traditional English breakfast variant. The loose set means it can also be used over fruit for a citrussy lift. Highly recommended

5 Comments

Filed under Recipe, Sweet Things

Lady Marmalade

I’ve developed an annoying habit of working song references into my writing. I could offer sincere apologies…but I don’t see the need! While this practice is probably acceptable in the blogging context, I am not quite so sure that my attempts to weave in references to the greatest hits of Whitney Houston went down quite so well at work. And that, dear reader, is a shame, a there are two seminal works – “It’s Not Right but It’s Okay” and “How Will I Know” that suit pretty much any situation that you will be faced with…

I digress. It’s the time of year when Seville oranges appear. Olé!

Seville oranges are good for one thing – and that is marmalade. You’ve never confuse them with juicing oranges more than once! And it’s that tangy tartness that makes for wonderful preserves.

And that’s why Lady Marmalade has been hummed with much enthusiasm recently, as I’ve been trying to get to grips with the tricky issue of marmalade. Indeed, you may wish to play it in the background (go on…go on...). You see, the thing is that while I am pretty happy to make jam or jelly, I’ve always thought of marmalade as “a bit too difficult”. However, I was in Barcelona recently, and the trees in some of the parks still bore oranges from last year, and I took that as a sign that 2012 was the year that I should give it a go.

What I do know about marmalade is that it’s a bit more of a dark art than my favourite jam, raspberry. Raspberries require no preparation, and are already pectin-rich. This means you just measure out equal amounts of fruit and sugar, add a squeeze of lemon juice, and boil until set. Marmalade, on the other hand, requires you to get the right sort of oranges. We need Seville oranges. These are rough little things, with mouth-puckerng juice and a real tang to them. Then you need to do “stuff” with the pith, juice, seeds and peel, then you need to separate out the peel, then you need to strain the mixture, then boil it…so you see why I’ve always been a bit apprehensive.

However, 2012 is going to be the year of dreams of winning gold in London, and I was going to make my marmalade. So I went looking for a recipe. What become pretty clear in no time was that there are many, many variations out there, but no single “right” way. This is probably inevitable when you’re trying to make something as traditional as marmalade. Finally, I stumbled upon a recipe by Dan Lepard which looked sufficiently easy for the novice to succeed with. It involved cutting the peel off the orange, shredding it, then putting it into a piece of muslin. Then you cook everything (and I mean everything) to get a zesty liquid, discard all the pith and pips, and just open the muslin cloth and add the zest, then boil with sugar. Simple.

Then I made it. And you know what? It was simple. I did the fruit peeling and boiling on a Saturday (filling the house with the fantastic smell of orange oil) and  left the mixture to drain overnight. On the Sunday, I boiled it up with sugar and bottled it. And now, I have six jars of beautiful marmalade, the colour of red amber and laced with delicate strands of vibrant zest.

Yes, I said strands.

Yes, I’m one of those people.

The world seems to split into those that love thick cut marmalade – with the great big chunks of peel – and those that like it fine cut. I fall into the latter camp, as I much prefer the marmalade to quiver on my toast, with lots of bits of peel sticking out. But I have a few oranges left, so I may well try my hand at a thick-cut recipe in the near future.

I couldn’t be happier with this marmalade – the method is quite easy, and the result is, frankly, stunning. The colour is beautiful, it has a delicate, soft set that quivers on the spoon, and it has a flavour that really wakes you up in the morning. Delicious!

Now just one question remains….what exactly is that magnolia wine they sang about in Lady Marmalade? Hmmm…

To make Seville orange marmalade (Adapted from Dan Leperd):

• 600g Seville oranges
• 1.1 litres water

• 1.2kg white sugar
• 2 generous tablespoons dark brown sugar (optional)

Day 1:

Wash the oranges in hot water and dry.

Cut the peel off the oranges in strips. Remove any bits of pith from the strips of peel. Cut the peel into fine strands, put into a piece of muslin, and tie very securely with a piece of string.

Cut the oranges in half, squeeze the juice into a large pan, chop the remains and add to the pot. Add any bits of pith you cut from the peel. Add the water and the bag of peel strips. Bring the mixture to the boil, then cover with a lid and simmer for around 2 hours until the peel is very soft.

Line a sieve with a piece of muslin or a jelly bag, pour in the orange mixture and leave to drain – at least an hour, but overnight doesn’t hurt.

Day 2:

Measure the liquid form the oranges – you should have just over one litre. If not enough, add a little more water.

Add the orange zest and sugar, and heat the mixture until it comes to a rolling boil. Cook the marmalade until it reaches 104°C (219°F) is using a jam thermometer, otherwise test manually(*). During the cooking process, you might have to remove any foam that appears.

When the marmalade is ready, leave to cool a little so that the marmalade thickens slightly (this helps to ensure the strands “float” in the marmalade and don’t sink). Decant the hot jam into sterilised jam jars and seal(**). Then enjoy on hot, buttered toast with a cup of tea in the morning!

(*) How to check for a set? Chill a saucer in the fridge. Put a little marmalade on the cool plate, and return to the fridge for a moment. Push with your finger – if the marmalade  “wrinkles” when you push it, the marmalade is done. If it stays liquid, then cook longer and check again later. This is why you are better to cook gently but for a longer time, as if you miss the set, the sugar will start to caramelise, and the marmalade will be very thick and sticky.

(**) How to sterilise jam jars? Wash in hot, soapy water, and then rinse very well – do not dry them. Now place up-side down on the shelf of a cold oven, and heat to 100°C / 210°F for 20 minutes. Remove from the oven using gloves, allow to cool slightly (they should still be warm) and fill with the hot marmalade. You can leave the jars in the oven with the heat turned off until you need them, as this keeps the glass warm, and warm glass is much less likely to crack when you add warm jam (science, eh?). Remember to sterilise the lids by washing in hot, soapy water, then rinsing well and then boiling them in a pot of hot water for a few minutes.

Worth making? I am surprised how easy this recipe for marmalade is, and the flavour is absolutely delicious on toast to give you a bit of a citrussy wake-up call in the morning. Highly recommended!

18 Comments

Filed under Recipe, Sweet Things

Perada

I recently made a batch of pear jelly and I’ve been amazed how popular it has been. I was also incredibly excited when I saw that it had even inspired people to make it and do their own posts, like on Things {We} Make. I love to look at blogs and use them as a source of inspiration, and it’s great to think that people may be looking at what I get up to for the same reason.

When I saw their version of pear jelly, I did get a little bold and hinted to them that I had another pear recipe in the offing. Well, finally, here it is – perada!

So first of all, a bit of context. What is perada?

If you’ve got a soft spot for Spanish food, then you’re probably familiar with membrillo, the rich red quince paste that is famously paired with manchego cheese. Perada is something similar, although less familiar (at least to me). I came across this idea a while ago and it was mentally filed away in the “to try at some point” part of my brain.

Well, since I made the pear jelly, I received yet another bag of windfall pears. A slightly different variety, which my limited garden knowledge had identified as Williams. While it would be interesting to have pear jelly made with different varieties of pear so that I can then express a preference when called upon to do so, there is also an overwhelming need to be practical. With the best will in the world, there is a limit to just how much jam and jelly a household can consume over a year, so I did two things. Firstly, I left some of the pears wrapped in newspaper to ripen for a week (a tip from Lynn at Queen of the Castle – thanks!). Second, I dug out the old recipe and use the rest to make – surprise! – a batch of perada.

The interesting thing is that there does not seem to be too much on this item on the beloved web. A couple of sources refer to it as being Iberian in origin. Beyond that, there is not much to find, so it is clearly playing second fiddle to the more famous membrillo. So let’s see if we can do a little to change that, shall we?

The method is quite easy – you boil the pears, peel them while warm, then mash them up and pass through a sieve. I have to admit, I was pretty dubious that this would work, and feared all manner of stringy bits and pips in the resulting puree, but it worked like an absolute dream. So if you’re tempted to get into all the fuss of de-coring the pears, you don’t have to.

As with my pear jelly, the colour was a bit of a surprise. The pear puree came out as a pale yellow colour, and I was expecting something similar from the resulting perada. But no. As you can see below, once the sugar was added and the whole lot allowed to boil up, it turned a rich amber colour.

Now, you may remember that on previous occasions I seemed to rant a little against the use of pectin. Well, it’s not that I’m actually against it – it is just that I tend to use high-pectin fruits, or I just add lemons, which also add a nice tang. However, with this recipe, I wanted to keep the cooking time to a minimum so as to benefit from maximum fruity pear flavour. I was also keen to have perada that would set in funky moulds I was using, and that could be sliced easily into delicate slivers to perch atop pieces of cheese.

With the perada mixture made, it was time to store it. I filled one normal ramekin, four miniature moulds to adorn a cheeseboard, and I also filled three miniature jam pots to store for Christmas. To say that I was surprised at how little I got out of the process was something of an understatement! But highly predictable given that you need to let the mixture cook, and cook, and cook until it reduces down.

To make my miniature portions of perada, I got a little bit cunning, and as you can see from the picture below, they look like a proper old-fashioned jelly or blancmange. Well, there is a little trick to this. I used a silicone cupcake mould, then turned it inside-out. This results in a little ring of dimples at the top of the perada, which I think looks rather cute.

You can also see that once it has been sliced, the true colour is apparent – more of an amber colour than red, which I think does look rather jaunty indeed on a piece of cheese.

Lacking any manchego in the house, I paired it with a very mature Cornish cheddar, and was frankly delighted with the combination. The perada is sweet, but the cheese was very strong and tangy, and the two together was just a little piece of joy. Given that both pears and cheddar are very typically British, it is a combination that sounds odd but does work.

Once you have gone to all the effort of making perada, you might wonder what to do with it all. The natural home for it is as part of a cheeseboard, but there is of course a natural limit to just how much cheese you can eat. But perada is adaptable – cut into pieces and coat in sugar to make little pâtes de fruits, or use chunks of it in cakes or pastries.

Alternatively, be sure to do as I did, and put some perada into little jam jars – this allows you to store it and use it from time to time, enjoying the fruits of your labour over the winter months.

To make perada:

• 8 pears (leave the skin on)
• 300g white sugar
• 130ml water
• juice of 1/2 lemon
• 4 strips lemon peel, optional (*)
• 3 tablespoons liquid pectin, optional(**)

Rinse the pears, place in a saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring to the boil, then leave to simmer on a gentle heat until soft. They are ready when a sharp knife can be easily inserted (20-30 minutes).

Drain the pears. Once cool enough to handle, peel the pears and discard the skin.

Put the pears into a sieve above a bowl, and use the back of a spoon to push them through. You will end up with a bowl of pear puree and all the stringy bits and pips in the sieve.

Measure the pear puree, and add 3/4 by volume of sugar to the mixture (i.e. for every 1 cup of pear puree, add 3/4 cup sugar).

Put the pear puree, sugar, water, lemon juice and lemon peel strips into a saucepan. Bring to the boil, cook for a minute (stirring as needed) and then reduce to a simmer. Stir in the liquid pectin (if using) and then cook for around an hour until the mixture is thick and leaves little “trails” on the bottom of the pan that take a second or two to cover over. Worry less about the cooking time, and more about when the perada reaches the right thickenss. You can also test it by dropping a small amount onto a very cold plate – if it goes firm after a minutes, the perada is ready.

Remove the lemon peel. Pour the cooked perada into moulds or sterile jam jars(***).

(*) Adding the lemon peel gives the perada a slight lemon aroma. Optional, but a nice touch.

(**) You can use the perada as a paste, or add the pectin to ensure that it sets firmly and can be cut. The pectin is essential if you want to make all these fancy shapes or cut into pieces.

(***) If using moulds, use a tiny amount of neutral oil to rub the inside so that the perada slips out. And I really mean a tiny amount – it should look invisible.

Worth making? This is an interesting but very simple recipe. It takes a little time to make, but it a good idea for when you’re mooching around the house at the weekend. Well worth trying.

16 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized