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Showing posts with label marmalade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marmalade. Show all posts

 


I have been growing Australian finger limes (Citrus australasica) for a dozen years now. The thing that is cool about finger limes is that when you cut them open, little balls of lime juice spill out. They are about the size of flying fish row (aka tobiko) and are sometimes referred to as “lime caviar”. Unfortunately, there aren’t many applications for them. Back in 2021 I concluded that marmalade could take advantage of the special characteristics of finger limes. The result was not great. Primarily, the flavor was too bitter for most uses. Three years later I still haven’t used up all of that marmalade. Moreover, it took much too much effort to make. You can read all about that experiment here if you are interested. Note that I have left out many details here, since much of it would be redundant with that original posting.

I have been harvesting, collecting, and freezing finger limes ever since, intending to try again and see if I could get a better result. Finally this fall I made a batch, changing a number of critical steps in the process.

The verdict? The new batch is much sweeter, less bitter, and easier to prepare. However, I still wouldn’t say it was great, and it is still a lot of work. Nonetheless, here is the recipe from my recent attempt. Perhaps with yet more work it could be turned into a useful recipe. Your mileage may vary.

Note: for the purpose of incorporation into a cooked product like marmalade, these limes freeze well. In fact, they freeze surprisingly well to store for almost any application. This batch included 100% frozen fruit collected over the course of 2024.


Australian Finger Lime Marmalade Recipe v2.0
Yield: 9.5 cups

Ingredients:
3.5lbs Finger limes
2.25lbs Sugar for macerating limes (equal to the weight of processed limes)
Additional 12oz sugar (added during cooking)
¼ C Karo syrup (to reduce sugaring off)
1 pkg liquid pectin (3oz)
1 tsp Kosher salt

Note that last time I added baking soda, which can be helpful with marmalade to soften the skins. However, finger lime skins are already thin, and baking soda is bitter, so I left it out this time. There was no issue with the skins being tough.

Method:
Processing the limes took a huge amount of time and effort, so as before, I did it in two batches over two days, then cooked them on the third day. I don’t think it is necessary, though when making marmalade, macerating the fruit in sugar is generally a good idea to get it to release liquid and pre-absorb sugar. On the first day I processed about 1.5 pounds and macerated the “pearls” in the refrigerator with an equal amount of sugar. On the second day I processed the rest, adding them to the same container, again with an equal amount of sugar. I stored the skins separately. On the third day I assembled and cooked the marmalade.

Processing the limes:
(1) Wash and dry the limes.

(2) Slice the stem end from each lime. Squeeze the fruit from the skins with a small rolling pin. A wooden “cocktail muddler” with a straight handle worked well for this.


(3) Previously I had removed the seeds at this point. It was an unbelievable pain in the ass and took a ridiculous amount of time. For this version I left the seeds in with the fruit, since they float to the top during cooking. However, it turned out that skimming them from the surface during cooking was a huge pain in the ass and took a ridiculous amount of time!!! Oh well. [A reader suggested scraping the lime pearls from the skin under water, and then skimming the seeds as they float to the top of the water. If I do this again, I will try it – though I have to wonder about the amount of lime juice from popped pearls that will be lost.]

(4) I discarded ½ of the skins (by weight.) The remainder I blanched once in water for 3 minutes to reduce the bitterness. [The same reader noted that they retain all of the skins, but simmer them in water for 1 hour - twice! I am sure that would eliminate all bitterness but might lose a lot of the flavor, texture, and interest of the skin as well.]

(5) Chop the skins into pieces of a size that is pleasing to you. This time I chopped them more thoroughly than I wish I had. They lost a lot of toothsome character. I need to try to find some reasonable way to cut them into disks or strips.

Cooking the marmalade:
I recommend investing in a copper jam pot if you do a lot of preserving. They are quite expensive (generally US$200 and up), however, using one makes preserving easier and produces a better product.

Before starting, put a plate in the freezer with some spoons to use in testing for setting.

Put the macerated limes into the pot along with 12 oz additional sugar and 1 tsp Kosher salt.

Bring to a full boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Assuming you have not removed the seeds previously, attempt to skim off the seeds from the surface. I started using a spoon, but that was insanely inefficient. I then switched to skimming with a very small sieve. There was a fair bit of lost fruit using this method, it was a long, slow process, and I ultimately only got about 90% of the seeds out. Oh well.

Return the mixture to a full rolling boil over medium-high heat, stirring constantly. Stir in the liquid pectin. Return the mixture to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Boil for one minute or so. Note that using liquid pectin the marmalade gels very quickly.

Test for setting using a spoon from the freezer (or any other method you prefer.) When the marmalade has set to your satisfaction, remove it from the heat. Allow it to cool for a few minutes to minimize separation of the fruit, skins, and juice. However, don’t let it cool too much or it will be impossible to fill your jars.

Ladle into sterilized jars and process by whichever safe preserving method you prefer.


[Note: I have redone my recipe for finger lime marmalade and posted a new version. This post is still useful as I did not copy all of the background information, etc., but you can find the latest and greatest here.]

Several years ago I planted an Australian finger lime bush (Citrus australasica). It took a few years to get established, during which time I got just a couple fruits, then a handful of fruits, then more, and more, until now I harvest a couple of pounds per season (they are quite small, so that is a lot.) Though they are great on sushi, salmon, and a few other things, it’s not clear what else to do with them. 

The thing that is cool about finger limes is that when you cut them open, little balls of lime juice spill out. They are about the size of flying fish row (aka tobiko) and are sometimes referred to as “lime caviar”, which is an excellent description. Unfortunately, you can’t really taste them unless they get burst by your teeth when you chew them. So, they easily get lost in a lot of applications. I have read that bartenders have gone crazy for them, but when I use them in drinks they are a flop, because most people don’t chew their beverages.
 
A bowl of finger limes
Since I now harvest a lot of finger limes, I have been looking for things to do with them other than give them to my favorite sushi chefs and bartenders. The skin of the finger line is delicious, but sharp and (pleasantly) bitter. The fruit inside tastes much like standard limes – not identical, but similar. Taken together they have a unique lime flavor, but if you use the skin, the bitterness can easily become overwhelming. So how, I wondered, can I take advantage of so many fruits, and their skins, and manage the fact that the juice is locked up in tiny capsules. I concluded that marmalade could show off the special characteristics of finger limes.

I am working on a finger lime marmalade recipe. Note that this is a recipe in progress. I have made it just once, and it was only semi-successful. The result of my first batch is sourer and a lot more bitter than what I had in mind. It is nice as a garnish - a dollop on salmon is great, and it is a delicious accompaniment to brie on crackers, but it is not something you are going to want to spread on toast. The next time I make it, I intend to try to reduce the bitterness and increase its sweetness.

Even though the recipe isn’t ready for "publication", I present it here for your interest. Hopefully, I can get some comments and suggestions for the next batch (to be made after the next harvest.) Perhaps people in Australia, or elsewhere in the southern hemisphere, will make some marmalade now, and let me know how it went.

It is also worth mentioning that for the purpose of incorporation into a cooked product like marmalade, these limes freeze well. In fact, they freeze surprisingly well to store for almost any application. This first batch included frozen fruit collected over a couple of seasons, in addition to fresh. 

Left, fresh. Right, previously frozen.
My recipe is loosely based on a lime marmalade recipe from Blue Ribbon Preserves by Linda J. Amendt. Mine is a new recipe due to the unique characteristics of finger limes, but I did use her recipe for the general structure. It is also assisted by ideas from the two web sites that claim a finger lime marmalade (which are almost identical to each other).

Also note that currently finger limes in the USA run about $30-$50 per pound. So, you pretty much must have your own tree to consider making this marmalade. The recipe below yielded 10 cups of marmalade. Thus, the cost would be between $10 and $17 per cup if one needed to purchase the limes.

And so, for your enjoyment, I present the “beta test” of my Finger Lime Marmalade, v1.0. 

Finger Lime Marmalade Recipe v1.0

Yield: 10 cups

INGREDIENTS:
  • 3.5lbs Finger limes.
  • 3.5lbs Sugar for macerating limes.
  • Additional 8oz sugar added during cooking.
  • ¼ C dextrose to reduce sugaring off (can sub Karo, or other non-sucrose sugar.)
  • 1 pkg liquid pectin (3oz).
  • Baking soda (optional).
METHOD:

Processing the limes took a fair bit of time and effort, so I did it in two batches over two days, then cooked them on the third day. I don’t think this is necessary, though macerating fruit for marmalade is generally a good idea to get it to release liquid and pre-absorb sugar. On the first day I processed about 1.5 pounds, macerating them in the refrigerator with an equal amount of sugar. On the second day I processed the rest, adding them to the same container, again with an equal amount of sugar. On the third day I cooked the marmalade.


Useful tools for processing the limes: knife, mini-rolling pin, and bench scraper.
PROCESSING THE LIMES: 
  1. Blanch the whole finger limes in boiling water for a couple minutes, then plunge them into cold water. This will help to remove some of the bitterness and make them easier to “squeeze” (see below.) Unfortunately, for v1.0 I decided that I wanted to retain some fresh lime oil, so I left about 1 cup of fruit unblanched. As noted, the marmalade was too bitter, so next time I will blanch the whole batch.
  2. Next, slice the stem end from each lime. Squeeze the fruit from the skins with a small rolling pin.

  3. Spread the pulp out on a cutting board to pick out all the seeds you can. This is a long, tedious process. Hey! Guess what! When I cooked the fruit, I found that any seeds I had missed floated to the top! Next time I will skip picking out the seeds and simply skim them off during cooking. Assuming that works, it will be a big time saver. If it doesn’t work, I guess I’ll have a batch of seedy marmalade.

  4. I did not do this, but next time I will re-blanch the emptied skins to try to remove some of the bitterness of the pith which is now exposed. Hopefully that won’t remove too much flavor from the end product.

  5. Chop the skins into pieces of a size that is pleasing to you. I started out trying to make neat, uniform disks, but quickly realized that I would go mad before I finished, so I resorted to just chopping. The result was fine. Disks would have been prettier, but not if they dragged me away in a straight jacket before I got done.

  6. Put the fruit and chopped skins in a container with an equal amount of sugar (by weight). Allow them to macerate in the refrigerator at least overnight. Note that it can be held this way for an indefinite number of days until you are ready to cook.

COOKING THE MARMALADE:


I strongly recommend investing in a copper jam pot if you do a lot of preserving. They are quite expensive (generally US$200 and up), however, using one makes preserving easier and produces a better product. Really. If you don’t have one and can afford it, you’ll thank me. 



Before starting, put a plate in the freezer with several spoons to use in testing for setting. 

Put the macerated limes into the pot along with 8 oz additional sugar (next time I intend to use more.)

Add the baking soda. Note that since the skins are very thin, this is probably unnecessary. Baking soda in marmalade helps to break down the peels, shortening the time it takes to cook and soften them.

Bring to a full boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Return the mixture to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Add the liquid pectin. Stir constantly while bringing the mixture back to a full rolling boil. Boil for one minute. 


Test for set and consistency using a spoon from the freezer (or any other method you prefer.) When the marmalade has set to your satisfaction, remove it from the heat. Allow it to cool for a few minutes to minimize separation of the fruit, skins, and juice in the jar.

For working with hot jam or marmalade, silicon gloves are a must-have.
Ladle into sterilized jars and process by whichever safe method you prefer.

When I did my landscaping a couple years back, I put in some sour orange trees. They are very attractive in the landscape with shiny, dark, evergreen leaves, and bright orange fruit. Of course, I also had a culinary ulterior motive: marmalade. After some study I chose the Chinotto orange (Citrus aurantium var. myrtifolia), referred to as a “Myrtle-leaved orange” in English. While it is not exactly the same as the Seville orange of marmalade fame (Citrus aurantium 'Seville'), it is very close, and frankly it is a more attractive plant. Eventually my three trees were so heavy with beautiful orange fruit that I was afraid their branches might break. Time to cook!


I read over several marmalade recipes, but I wasn’t entirely happy with any of them. In the end I decided that I wanted to go with a no-added-pectin approach. I chose three recipes and picked the parts I liked from each. One was from David Lebovitz. The second appeared on the Simply Recipes site. The final recipe was by “The Marmalade Man” - he does call for added pectin, but hey, he’s “The Marmalade Man,” right?

There is much debate as to whether true orange marmalade is made with or without the peels’ pith. There are those that claim that keeping the pith will make the marmalade too bitter. Others say that is not true and that the pith is valuable for its pectin. A quick review of the recipes on PunkDomestics.com shows both sides of the argument. A year earlier I had tried making Kaffir lime sorbet that came out so bitter that it was borderline inedible - even after hammering it with sugar. So, for my marmalade I decided to take the advice of the “no pith” crowd.

The problem is that to make marmalade without added pectin and without pith, requires separating out all the parts of an orange, using what I wanted (zest, juice, and pectin from the seeds) and keeping the rest from the finished product. Unfortunately, the oranges had other ideas about being dismembered. To make matters worse, my oranges were clearly far smaller than those being used by the various recipes’ authors. In all of the images accompanying the recipes, the oranges appear to be a good two to three inches in diameter. My harvest had produced 50 or 60 oranges, ranging from ½ inch to maybe two inches across. This multiplied my challenge many times over.

Initially working from Lebovitz’s instructions, I cut all of my oranges in half and laboriously juiced them – keeping the juice in one container, the seeds and guts in another, and a hefty pile of shells in a third. This process took so long that I ran out of time to do anything else that day. I moved each bowl of citrus-parts into containers and put them in the fridge overnight.

The next day I soldiered on, intent on creating the best marmalade ever to grace a slice of toast. Lebovitz’s next instruction is to thinly slice the peels, but, since I was going “pith free,” I switched over to Simply Recipes for instruction. They merely say “Taking a clean juiced orange half rind, use a spoon to dig out as much of the white pith as you can.” OK. No problem. Well, actually, problem. It seems that my orange rinds were reluctant to part with their piths. I tried all kinds of spoons, including my favorite go-to spoon for scraping - a metal flat bottomed Asian spoon [Which is also my favorite spoon for tasting and a dozen other things]. No joy. I tried a melon-baller, but it was just a modest improvement.


I tried smooshing the halves flat and scraping with a knife. Nope. I tried slicing the rind from the pith with my chef’s knife and then with a mandolin. Even with a Kevlar glove that was a waste of time and potentially dangerous. Two hours later I had cleaned the pith from less than a quarter of the oranges and made a hell of a mess to boot. I gave up, put everything back in the fridge and cleaned the kitchen.


Returning to the task the following day – day three and I hadn't fired up the stove yet – I looked at the bowl of orange rinds with grim determination. Clearly this was a job requiring hardware - real hardware, not the delicate tools of the kitchen. This required power tools. I descended to my workshop to consider my options. Among my plumbing supplies I found my answer: a fitting and cleaning brush.


I cut the handle off with a hacksaw, fit the shaft into my nice, lightweight, compact Milwaukee lithium-ion drill, and headed back to the kitchen to do battle. I threw the container of orange peels into the sink and hit them my with homemade power reamer.


Good golly Miss Molly, the pith went flying. A half hour later the sink was caked with orange pith and the brush was ruined, but all of my orange peels were clean as a whistle.


All that remained was the relatively simple task of slicing the peels and cooking the marmalade to the right consistency:


A few hours later I had my first batch of homemade, home grown, home-MacGyerized marmalade. It only took 3 days, and I can honestly say that it is the best orange marmalade I have ever tasted.