Meyer Lemon Marmalade and My Lesson in Jamming

I love the craft of preserving--for me it usually take the form of making pickles. Periodically I make jam, but only if I've managed to get my hands on more seasonal fruit than I can eat or bake with before it spoils. A case in point? My Meyer lemon trees have been weighed down with fruit. I adore Meyer lemons, but how many can I use on my own? I gave some away as holiday presents but that still didn't make a dent. And the fruit needed desperately to be picked. So, how about making Meyer lemon marmalade?

I've successfully made marmalade from a wonderful Ina Garten recipe in her Barefoot Contessa at Home cookbook, but her large oranges didn't really translate into my much smaller lemons so I searched through my cookbooks until I found an actual Meyer lemon marmalade recipe in my ginormous compendium of all things Ruth Reichl, The Gourmet Cookbook. I was tickled to have just what I needed from one of my cooking bibles.

Other than tripling the recipe to use 4 1/2 pounds of lemons, I followed it precisely. It took me hours to halve the lemons, remove and reserve the seeds, then quarter the juicy halves and thinly slice them. I pulled together all the seeds into a cheesecloth parcel I tied with string. I mixed the lemons with water and the seed pouch and let the mixture stand at room temperature for 24 hours.

After racing out in the rain to get more sugar (12 cups!), running all my jars through the dishwasher, and then setting up my canning equipment, I started the cooking process. Everything went fine. I put a couple of small plates in the freezer to chill so I could test that the marmalade had cooked enough. The soaked lemon mixture simmered for 45 minutes, reducing by a third. Then I stirred in the sugar and brought it all to a boil, stirring and skimming.

Per the directions, after 10 minutes I pulled out a frozen plate, dropped a dollop of golden marmalade on the plate, put it back in the freezer and waited for a full minute. I tested it. Still runny. I cooked the mixture for five minutes more, tested it. Still runny. I did this four more times and by then the peels were collapsing. Enough.

At this point the jars had been sterilized so I started filling them, hoping that the mixture would set. I processed the filled and sealed jars and set them on the counter overnight, cleaned up the kitchen, and crossed my fingers.

I shouldn't have bothered. The next morning I had what I generously called Meyer Lemon Marmalade Syrup. It tasted delicious, but was still runny.

Fortunately, because I posted some of this on Facebook, pastry chef Kathleen Baran Shen of Bake Sale Bakery offered some advice. And this is why I am writing this--because this Gourmet recipe didn't mention it--you need to measure the temperature of the mixture and that temperature needs to hit 223 degrees to reach the jelling point.

"There are varying amounts of water in every lemon and the temperature assures a specific percentage of water remains in the mixture," she said. "Just cooking for a set amount of time doesn't get you a specific end result.

"Pectin needs a few things to set," she explained, "proper sugar concentration, acid, and to be cooked to the right temperature."

She added, "If you want to go to the trouble to dump it out and recook it, use a thermometer and bring it to 223 degrees and re-jar it. It will be good."

Kathleen was right, of course. I had some leftover jars of "marmalade syrup" in the fridge--jars I didn't have room to sterilize. I dumped the contents into a pot and followed her directions. After I poured the recooked mixture back into the re-washed jars, I let them cool and then put them back in the fridge. A couple of hours later I opened one up. Sure enough, it was perfectly jelled. I went back and emptied all my marmalade syrup into a large pot and brought the mixture to the right temperature, re-washed and sterilized the jars, filled them, processed them, and relabeled them--this time as just Meyer Lemon Marmalade. Okay, a slightly darker marmalade, though. Turns out that while sugar doesn't caramelize until reaching 300-plus degrees, if you don't stir constantly as you get close to the magic number or use a copper pot that conducts heat more effectively, the bottom gets hot enough to caramelize. And, as Shen added, some color change will happen no matter what as the fruit changes color when cooked. Second lesson learned!

So, if you are starting out as a jammer be sure to find the right recipes and also don't give up because it didn't come out right the first time. Kathleen not only saved my batch of marmalade, she saved my hard-earned lemon harvest--and gave me the gift of knowledge that will be used for my next jamming foray.

Here's my version of Meyer Lemon Marmalade, adapted from the Gourmet recipe with Kathleen's advice included. In terms of special equipment, you'll need a large canning pot and rack; canning jars, lids, and bands; a jar lifter; a funnel; a lid lifter; cheesecloth and string; and a candy thermometer.

Meyer Lemon Marmalade
(printable recipe)
Yield: About 6 cups

1 1/2 pounds Meyer lemons
4 cups water
4 cups sugar

1. Halve the lemons crosswise and remove the seeds, placing them in a bowl as you work--they'll provide the pectin you need to thicken the mixture.

2. Tie the seeds in a cheesecloth bag and reserve.

3. Quarter each lemon half and thinly slice crosswise.

4. Combine the lemon slices, seed bag, and water in a pot and let stand, covered, at room temperature for 24 hours.

5. When you're ready to make the marmalade, wash and sterilize jars in a large canning pot filled with heavily simmering water. Keep the jars in the water and keep the water simmering. Wash the lids and put them in a small saucepan. Fill with water and bring to a simmer. Wash the bands and set aside.

6. Place the lemon mixture on the stove and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer uncovered until reduced to about 4 cups--about 45 minutes.

7. Stir in the sugar, attach the candy thermometer to the side of the pot, and bring to a boil over moderate heat. Stir occasionally and skim off any foam until the mixture reaches 223 degrees.

8. Place a kitchen towel on the sink where your filled jars can cool. Remove a jar from the canning pot and drain it of water. Fill it with marmalade to within a 1/4" from the top. Wipe off any excess marmalade from the jar, particularly where the lid and band will go.

9. Place a lid on the jar. Seal the jar with a band and gently twist it. Do this with each jar and then return them to the water bath. (Note: If you have any leftover marmalade, place it in a container and refrigerate it to use right away). Discard the bag of lemon seeds.

10. Cover the pot and bring the water back to a boil. The jars should be in actively boiling water for 10 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave the jars in the bath for another five minutes. Then remove the jars to the towel on the counter out of a draft. Don't worry if there's water on the lids. It will evaporate. Let the jars alone overnight. Within minutes you should hear popping as the lids seal.

Questions about the nuts and bolts of preserving? My bible is the Ball's Complete Book of Home Preserving. You'll find a step-by-step guide to the canning process. It seems intimidating at first because of the number of steps but it actually is very easy.


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The Big Holiday Pie Roundup: You Can Do It!

With Thanksgiving coming up later this week, I thought it would be helpful to do a roundup of all my pie-baking posts. Pies--or more specifically, pie crusts--seem to give people the most angst of all Thanksgiving dishes.

I've been baking pies since I was a teenager, more or less successfully. But over the years I've gained confidence, especially since 2011, when I went on a tear talking with San Diego pastry chefs about their pie-baking techniques. I learn, I try, I repeat. I learn more, try something new, and either go with it or revert back to the other technique. Regardless of what I do, I feel like I understand the science of it more and so can correct mistakes or make my own choices.

Over the years, I've met with Michele Coulon (Michele Coulon Dessertier), Rachel Caygill, Tina Luu, Kathleen Shen (Bake Sale Bakery), and Nick Brune (Local Habit). Finally, if the whole crust thing is still too intimidating--or you're just not into crusts, you can try my apple pie crisp.

First up is Michele Coulon. I loved the pie-baking experience with her. She basically just put me to work and had me make the pie as she instructed me. Michele is all about the butter--unsalted European butter. She has some very fundamental opinions about baking apple pies--everything from what type of pie plate to use and avoid to whether or not to add spices. So take a read. You'll find a great mentor here, like I did.

Then, there's Rachel Caygill, formerly the pastry chef at Bankers Hill. What a terrific teacher. We miss her terribly in San Diego, but while she was here she gave a group of bloggers a pie-baking class and invited me. I learned about making crusts in a very traditional way with a combination of butter (for flavor) and lard (for flakiness). You'll want to try this option, so read about it here.

Tina Luu recently left her long-time position as instructor at the Art Institute. Before she left, she invited me (or I invited myself--I can't remember) to her pie and tart class. What a revelation. Here's where I began to learn the science of pie doughs, like the differences between pie and tart doughs, how to create a flaky crust, and what options there are to do it. We also learned a lot about fillings and layering flavors. Dig deep here.

Kathleen Shen invited me to her pie-baking class at Bake Sale Bakery earlier this year. I came to the class thinking that I already had the skills, but Shen is a terrific teacher and the hands-on class she runs is irresistible. She gives you the confidence to go out and bake pies for every occasion. I learned so much here, mostly about technique. Like not fully incorporating butter and shortening into the flour when mixing because,"You want those pieces of fat because they create pockets of steam and thus flakiness," she explained. "And you want to minimize how much you work the dough to avoid developing gluten. Then the dough gets tough. Instead, it should just hold together." Here's another piece to read if you can't take the class. (Take the class!)

Now Nick Brune didn't teach me how to bake a pie crust, but he did share his secrets for baking a traditional Southern Buttermilk Pie. It's easy to make and will thrill your holiday guests as a change up from traditional custard pies. Add this to your repertoire.

Alright, maybe neither all these chefs nor I haven't convinced you. Or, maybe, like my dad, you don't love pie crusts--you just love the filling. For you I offer the apple crisp. This recipe makes baking a dessert easy and still feel traditional.

Caron's Crisp Mix
(printable recipe)

What I love about this recipe is that I can make the mixture in advance and store it in the freezer. Then I can create an individual serving for myself or a large dessert for company, using whatever fruit is in season. In cool seasons, I peel, core, and slice a Granny Smith apple. Then I toss the slices in a small amount of flour and sugar, and place the slices in a large ramekin or individual pie dish that I lightly coated with baking spray or vegetable oil. I’ll pull out the crisp mixture from the freezer and spoon out just enough to top the fruit, then bake. In less than an hour I have a pretty healthy, fiber-rich dessert.

Makes 8 to 10 servings, depending on how much you use per serving

Mix together:

2 cups quick cooking oats

1 cup toasted walnuts, chopped

1 ½ cups lightly packed brown sugar

2 cups all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon fennel pollen

1 cup unsalted butter, melted

Store in the freezer until you’re ready to bake.

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Prepare fruit. Toss with a little flour and sugar. Arrange in a baking dish lightly coated in baking spray or vegetable oil. Top with enough crisp mixture to cover the fruit. Store remaining crisp mixture in the freezer.

Bake for about 40 minutes or until fruit is bubbly and the topping is browned.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

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Easy as Pie at Bake Sale Bakery Class

There's clearly something I find addictive about pie baking. It's not just that I love to make them. It's that I can't stop learning how to make them from the experts. First there was my Nana Tillie, who had me rolling out dough for Thanksgiving apple and pumpkin pies when I was a kid. Much later I took classes at Great News!. Several years ago it got downright crazy--in a good way. Baker Rachel Caygill taught a class that highlighted her butter and lard recipe and technique. Michele Coulon of Michele Coulon Dessertier taught me her strictly butter approach. I got teased with techniques (but no recipe) by my buddy Elizabeth Harris of Betty's Pie Whole. And last summer I took a pie-making class that's part of the culinary degree curriculum pastry chef Tina Luu teaches at the Art Institute of San Diego.

You'd think I'd have had my fill--but no. When I learned that Kathleen Shen of Bake Sale Bakery teaches baking classes and that a pie-making class was coming up, well, I signed up, curious to see what more I could learn. And my intent that evening was to do what I often do at cooking classes when I'm going to write about them. Hover and take notes and photos. But Shen is an irresistible instructor and I found myself with a dusty camera by the end of the class because I couldn't keep from participating.

The class is intimate. Six students around a large marble-topped table. What's so brilliant about it is that it's both hands on and demo. Shen and her boss, owner Terryl Gavre, have figured out what concepts--like making the dough and piping meringue--students need to do at that moment and what can be done in advance and simply explained, along with a fulsome recipe. So, we learned technical skills and we learned why we do what we do so that, as Shen explained, we can figure out how to fix things when they go wrong. That's powerful knowledge in the kitchen.

We started out making a basic pie dough, of course. Shen likes the classic blending of butter (for flakiness and flavor) and shortening (for tenderness). She explained the science behind keeping the ingredients cold and why you want to have packets of fat. "You don't want to work all the fat into the flour," she explains. "You want those pieces of fat because they create pockets of steam and thus flakiness. And you want to minimize how much you work the dough to avoid developing gluten. Then the dough gets tough. Instead, it should just hold together."

Through the process of mixing it ourselves we learned how it should feel. Our dough, which we pressed into a disk, went into the fridge to cool. Then, with pre-made dough disks, we learned how to roll it out--always a source of anxiety. Shen's technique worked for me. Brush with flour and let the rolling pin do the work, not my arms. Roll. Turn it a quarter. Roll. Turn. Roll. Turn. You end up with a nice evenly rolled circle that doesn't stick to the surface. (For extra flaky dough, you can also fold your rolled out dough into quarters and roll it out again--like laminating dough for croissants or puff pastry.) Fold the now large circle  gently into quarters and lift it into the pie plate. Unfold. Press into the plate and that's it. Sure made me look good.

She taught us great tips for how to blind bake dough for pies with liquid fillings, like lemon meringue and chocolate cream. She taught us how to effectively add a second, top crust to a fruit pie so the edges would be both pretty and contain the filling. (Fold the top dough over the bottom at the edge, press to close, then crimp.)

Shen also gave us tips for creating novel crusts. Instead of graham cracker crust for our chocolate cream pie, she gave us a primer in making a cookie crust. Make a chocolate chip cookie dough, sans the chips, bake it, run it through the food processor to get the crumbs, and add sugar and butter. Then press into the pie tin and refrigerate until ready to use. Want to add some extra structure to a pie dough for lemon meringue? Instead of rolling the dough out with flour, use graham cracker crumbs.

We then learned techniques for making chocolate cream and lemon curd for our pie fillings. On individual propane burners we each prepared our chocolate cream after Shen demonstrated the technique. We poured the cream into our already prepared cookie crusts. Then she did a demo for the lemon curd and taught us how to make meringue, offering some great tips. (Use a clean bowl and room-temperature egg, add cream of tartar to relax the whites and only add sugar once there's volume in the whites.) Then we each had to each use a pastry bag with a tip to pipe it onto our lemon meringue pies, which then went into the oven.

We did all this in just over two hours. And we got to take everything home with us that we'd made: our chilled unbaked dough, an uncooked but oven-ready strawberry rhubarb pie, our chocolate cream pie just needing whipped cream, and our stunning lemon meringue masterpieces. Plus recipes.

Since lemon meringue pie is my mom's absolute favorite, I took it over to her the next day. She only allowed me a small bite, but it was terrific. Even overnight the crust remained flaky and the meringue stiff. The lemon filling was a perfect melding of tart and sweet. My mom says that she doled out small pieces to herself for a couple of days and even with the last piece the crust remained solid, not mushy. So, we've got splendid recipes and techniques here!

I'm feeling even more confident now.

Bake Sale Bakery holds a variety of pastry classes year round. To find see their schedule, go to http://bakesalesd.com/events/category/classes/.



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