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...Otherwise known as - The Day the Pie Flew
It all began one Christmas long ago, back in the era of the 1980’s. I was single, pretending to be a cowgirl in Texas, near both brothers and their families. While we often made the journey to our parents’ home in Mississippi, we were known to stay in Houston some years. (Those trips to Mississippi are another story...)
This particular Christmas pulled on my heartstrings. I was teaching English as a Second Language to immigrant junior high students. It was a great experience, as my students were eager to learn and thankful to me for helping. Somehow, I also found myself volunteering as a Student Council co-sponsor for the 8th grade. Part of our “helping others” program that year was a collection of foods brought in by students to prepare Christmas Food Boxes and toys for families in need. It turned out that many of those in need were my students’ families. Yet, they brought in food to donate to others. Witnessing this was a lesson in grace and gratitude for me, but I had more to learn this particular Christmas.
I helped the vice-principal deliver the food boxes on the last afternoon before Christmas holidays. Many of the families lived in trailers, not really mobile homes, just small trailers that had seen much better days. There were holes in the floor of one; they had been carefully covered with a bit of wood and cardboard. Another family had a new baby; there was no room for a crib. The baby was nestled in blankets in a drawer that had been removed to use as a bed. The drawer was under the kitchen sink, where it was warm next to the stove. And yet – these families greeted us kindly and thankfully. They knew we were coming, and many had prepared food for us! It was another lesson for me: to appreciate what I had always taken for granted – a warm bed to sleep in and food on the table.
Somehow, I’m embarrassed to say, the lessons from this whole experience weren't learned immediately. Instead, I became impatient and slipped into a “bad mood” – thinking my own family's Christmas was excessive and needless. Those two words had never occurred to me during Christmas, but that year they were stuck both in my head and my attitude.
My parents traveled from Mississippi to celebrate with my brothers and me. Christmas Day was at my brother and sis-in-law’s (Jackie and Jane’s) house. I was told to bring not one, but TWO chocolate pies. This was not just any chocolate pie. It was Mama’s chocolate meringue pie, well-known during Thanksgiving and Christmas for its fluffy meringue top and its firm and creamy chocolate custard filling. I had tackled it before, but never on my own. Mama was always around to supervise. This year, however, during my time of need, she decided to spend quality time with her grandchildren instead of me.
I tried very hard to be patient and joyful, but that miserable mood was still hanging over my head and somehow transferred itself right into those two pies. I’ve always heard that the finest cooking ingredient is love and that our emotions transfer into what we are cooking. I was about to become a believer.
I didn’t give the famous chocolate pies quite enough love. Stirring endlessly is as necessary to any combo of hot milk and eggs, as it is to a gumbo roux. One must have either infinite patience, or a glass of wine to accomplish the deed. In hindsight, I should have poured an infinite glass.
I made the pies, and thought they looked runny, but decided they would firm up after being in the refrigerator overnight. Nope, on Christmas morning, when we packed up gifts and food to go to my brother’s, those darn pies were trying to slosh right out of their pie plates. They were neither firm, nor creamy. Mama, being a kind-hearted person, said they were fine and only needed to sit for awhile. I looked at her incredulously, as the pies had literally “sat” in a cold fridge all night. My miserable mood was back in spades.
Daddy and I put the pies on a dish cloth on the backseat floor of my NEW car. At the last turn onto my brother’s street, the pies slid into each other and sloshed chocolate filling all over the carpet of the new car. As a wise person likely said in times like this - that was the last straw!
I pulled my car over and jumped out like a wasp was after me. As luck would have it, my brother’s house was on a street with a huge drainage ditch running along one side of the road. I grabbed one of those pies. My miserable mood magically disappeared with one swing of my arm, as I hurled that famous chocolate meringue pie into the ditch.
Mama and Daddy just looked at me, probably wondering if was safer for them to walk the rest of the way to my brother’s. Daddy, never one to waste food, decided to play bodyguard to the second pie, before it could meet the fate of its pie sister. He grabbed the remaining pie and held it to his chest, protecting it from me and declaring that he would eat it no matter what.
At that moment, I snapped out of THE MOOD and my ridiculous sideshow. I apologized and we drove on safely for two whole minutes to my brother’s house. Jackie came out to meet us and to help carry gifts and food inside. He took one look at the pie in Daddy’s chocolate-covered hands and said, “What happened?” As one, Mama and Daddy answered, “Don’t ask.” By this time Daddy was licking his fingers and declaring the pie to be delicious. I felt like such an idiot, but my miserable mood had flown into the ditch with the pie. Lessons were finally learned from the best "teachers" standing in front of me: No gift was as great as having parents and family so patient and good-hearted. This was my lesson for that Christmas and remains so even to this day.
The moment we walked inside, my brother, Jackie, grabbed a spoon and dug into the pie. A big brother teasing grin was on his face that dared me to say something. The salvaged chocolate pie, soupy though it was, got eaten and enjoyed. By day’s end, we all had a good laugh over my “moody” pies. That wasn’t the end.
The story has been retold and laughed at over the decades by family and friends. During the holidays, I’m often asked, “Remember that pie? Are you going to make one this year?” I did go on to make more of those pies, patiently stirring, but always with a bit of trepidation. Have they ever turned out to be runny again? I’ll never tell; let’s just say I’ve never again hurled one into a ditch.
~~~Dedicated to my dear friend, Steve Wannamaker, who never lets me forget the day the chocolate pie flew into the ditch~
Mama's Chocolate Meringue Pie recipe on MissCookbook.com
It all began one Christmas long ago, back in the era of the 1980’s. I was single, pretending to be a cowgirl in Texas, near both brothers and their families. While we often made the journey to our parents’ home in Mississippi, we were known to stay in Houston some years. (Those trips to Mississippi are another story...)
This particular Christmas pulled on my heartstrings. I was teaching English as a Second Language to immigrant junior high students. It was a great experience, as my students were eager to learn and thankful to me for helping. Somehow, I also found myself volunteering as a Student Council co-sponsor for the 8th grade. Part of our “helping others” program that year was a collection of foods brought in by students to prepare Christmas Food Boxes and toys for families in need. It turned out that many of those in need were my students’ families. Yet, they brought in food to donate to others. Witnessing this was a lesson in grace and gratitude for me, but I had more to learn this particular Christmas.
I helped the vice-principal deliver the food boxes on the last afternoon before Christmas holidays. Many of the families lived in trailers, not really mobile homes, just small trailers that had seen much better days. There were holes in the floor of one; they had been carefully covered with a bit of wood and cardboard. Another family had a new baby; there was no room for a crib. The baby was nestled in blankets in a drawer that had been removed to use as a bed. The drawer was under the kitchen sink, where it was warm next to the stove. And yet – these families greeted us kindly and thankfully. They knew we were coming, and many had prepared food for us! It was another lesson for me: to appreciate what I had always taken for granted – a warm bed to sleep in and food on the table.
Somehow, I’m embarrassed to say, the lessons from this whole experience weren't learned immediately. Instead, I became impatient and slipped into a “bad mood” – thinking my own family's Christmas was excessive and needless. Those two words had never occurred to me during Christmas, but that year they were stuck both in my head and my attitude.
My parents traveled from Mississippi to celebrate with my brothers and me. Christmas Day was at my brother and sis-in-law’s (Jackie and Jane’s) house. I was told to bring not one, but TWO chocolate pies. This was not just any chocolate pie. It was Mama’s chocolate meringue pie, well-known during Thanksgiving and Christmas for its fluffy meringue top and its firm and creamy chocolate custard filling. I had tackled it before, but never on my own. Mama was always around to supervise. This year, however, during my time of need, she decided to spend quality time with her grandchildren instead of me.
I tried very hard to be patient and joyful, but that miserable mood was still hanging over my head and somehow transferred itself right into those two pies. I’ve always heard that the finest cooking ingredient is love and that our emotions transfer into what we are cooking. I was about to become a believer.
I didn’t give the famous chocolate pies quite enough love. Stirring endlessly is as necessary to any combo of hot milk and eggs, as it is to a gumbo roux. One must have either infinite patience, or a glass of wine to accomplish the deed. In hindsight, I should have poured an infinite glass.
I made the pies, and thought they looked runny, but decided they would firm up after being in the refrigerator overnight. Nope, on Christmas morning, when we packed up gifts and food to go to my brother’s, those darn pies were trying to slosh right out of their pie plates. They were neither firm, nor creamy. Mama, being a kind-hearted person, said they were fine and only needed to sit for awhile. I looked at her incredulously, as the pies had literally “sat” in a cold fridge all night. My miserable mood was back in spades.
Daddy and I put the pies on a dish cloth on the backseat floor of my NEW car. At the last turn onto my brother’s street, the pies slid into each other and sloshed chocolate filling all over the carpet of the new car. As a wise person likely said in times like this - that was the last straw!
I pulled my car over and jumped out like a wasp was after me. As luck would have it, my brother’s house was on a street with a huge drainage ditch running along one side of the road. I grabbed one of those pies. My miserable mood magically disappeared with one swing of my arm, as I hurled that famous chocolate meringue pie into the ditch.
Mama and Daddy just looked at me, probably wondering if was safer for them to walk the rest of the way to my brother’s. Daddy, never one to waste food, decided to play bodyguard to the second pie, before it could meet the fate of its pie sister. He grabbed the remaining pie and held it to his chest, protecting it from me and declaring that he would eat it no matter what.
At that moment, I snapped out of THE MOOD and my ridiculous sideshow. I apologized and we drove on safely for two whole minutes to my brother’s house. Jackie came out to meet us and to help carry gifts and food inside. He took one look at the pie in Daddy’s chocolate-covered hands and said, “What happened?” As one, Mama and Daddy answered, “Don’t ask.” By this time Daddy was licking his fingers and declaring the pie to be delicious. I felt like such an idiot, but my miserable mood had flown into the ditch with the pie. Lessons were finally learned from the best "teachers" standing in front of me: No gift was as great as having parents and family so patient and good-hearted. This was my lesson for that Christmas and remains so even to this day.
The moment we walked inside, my brother, Jackie, grabbed a spoon and dug into the pie. A big brother teasing grin was on his face that dared me to say something. The salvaged chocolate pie, soupy though it was, got eaten and enjoyed. By day’s end, we all had a good laugh over my “moody” pies. That wasn’t the end.
The story has been retold and laughed at over the decades by family and friends. During the holidays, I’m often asked, “Remember that pie? Are you going to make one this year?” I did go on to make more of those pies, patiently stirring, but always with a bit of trepidation. Have they ever turned out to be runny again? I’ll never tell; let’s just say I’ve never again hurled one into a ditch.
~~~Dedicated to my dear friend, Steve Wannamaker, who never lets me forget the day the chocolate pie flew into the ditch~
Mama's Chocolate Meringue Pie recipe on MissCookbook.com
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"It is with great sadness and a heavy heart that have to announce that I ate kale and liked it."
- Greg Behrendt
- Greg Behrendt
Winter gardens rock! When I was teaching, fall was one of the busiest times of the year for me. There was absolutely no time for tending to a garden. I tried it one year and it went sadly neglected. Had I only known that winter and fall gardens are the easiest to tend! I would have had broccoli and kale, swiss chard and pumpkins every single year.
Fall and winter in Uruguay have some rain and cooler temps, so there's not much watering involved. The first year we planted in the fall, I expected to have to go to the garden every single day and pull weeds, water, pick bugs off the plants, etc. NOPE! Fall and winter gardens are suspiciously pest-free. The cooler temps and less intense sun mean not as much watering and not as many weeds. Whoo hoo!!
Fall and winter in Uruguay have some rain and cooler temps, so there's not much watering involved. The first year we planted in the fall, I expected to have to go to the garden every single day and pull weeds, water, pick bugs off the plants, etc. NOPE! Fall and winter gardens are suspiciously pest-free. The cooler temps and less intense sun mean not as much watering and not as many weeds. Whoo hoo!!
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Honestly, these birthdays are coming way too quickly. I swear I just wrote a post about last year's birthday. Time is speeding by...
Once again, we were joined by dear friends at La Huella restaurant in José Ignacio. Like every year, I got the grilled brotula fish, French fries, and white wine. I'm so predictable!!! We'll have ice cream for dessert - dulce de leche. Somehow, I slipped into a birthday routine here in Uruguay! Next year we need to shake it up!
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I'm thankful to spend Thanksgiving once again at our friends' ranch, surrounded by old and new friends here in Uruguay. I'm missing my family something fierce, but at the same time, I'm happy to be in Uruguay.
We Americans, Canadians, and Ecuadorians somehow manage a Thanksgiving meal complete with everything but the turkey; we cook chickens instead. We all gather and bring food. There was dressing (stuffing for those who say that), sweet potatoes, pies, cheesecake, rolls, and more.
Here's the link to my ever so wonderful PUMPKIN PECAN CHEESECAKE - a bit of Thanksgiving in every bite! It was a big hit! I've also made a SWEET POTATO CHEESECAKE for our Thanksgiving celebrations. Both versions of cheesecake scream fall and Thanksgiving!
Our hosts are always so gracious to have us. This year was highlighted by the mighty men gathering together to move a coffee table and carpet. No idea why - I was into the wine by that time. It was our entertainment! I swear they wanted to take measurements...
We Americans, Canadians, and Ecuadorians somehow manage a Thanksgiving meal complete with everything but the turkey; we cook chickens instead. We all gather and bring food. There was dressing (stuffing for those who say that), sweet potatoes, pies, cheesecake, rolls, and more.
Here's the link to my ever so wonderful PUMPKIN PECAN CHEESECAKE - a bit of Thanksgiving in every bite! It was a big hit! I've also made a SWEET POTATO CHEESECAKE for our Thanksgiving celebrations. Both versions of cheesecake scream fall and Thanksgiving!
Our hosts are always so gracious to have us. This year was highlighted by the mighty men gathering together to move a coffee table and carpet. No idea why - I was into the wine by that time. It was our entertainment! I swear they wanted to take measurements...
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Pueblo Edén is a little village nestled in the hillsides. Every year, they celebrate the anniversary of its founding. 2017 is the 100th Anniversary! It's a BIG DEAL. Heck, the Maldonado Intendencia (state government) even sent the army in to build a bridge at the entryway where it traditionally floods.
This year, in addition to the tables of food and sales of used goods by the church, there was a circus performing for two night, a Queen of Pueblo Eden elected, and many, many food, arts & crafts, and other vendors. The Maldonado Symphonic Orchestra always plays, but this year other performances joined them.
In 1917, when Pueblo Edén was founded - it was a hopping place. La Casona, our friends' home, was a large grocery and general store. There were a couple of mills and of course, lots of agricultural activity in the area. Today, it boasts a couple of small restaurants, a chapel, a community gathering center, and a bar. Despite the remote feeling, Pueblo Edén is home to many expats, who appreciate all its beauty and quaint feel.
This year, we decided to have an Open House at our home for friends to stop by, have snacks and soup, and then carpool on to the festivities in the village. It was a big hit!! People brought bread, snacks, and desserts and I made four different soups.
Here are recipe links from my cooking website (MissCookbook.com) to the soups that I made:
This year, in addition to the tables of food and sales of used goods by the church, there was a circus performing for two night, a Queen of Pueblo Eden elected, and many, many food, arts & crafts, and other vendors. The Maldonado Symphonic Orchestra always plays, but this year other performances joined them.
In 1917, when Pueblo Edén was founded - it was a hopping place. La Casona, our friends' home, was a large grocery and general store. There were a couple of mills and of course, lots of agricultural activity in the area. Today, it boasts a couple of small restaurants, a chapel, a community gathering center, and a bar. Despite the remote feeling, Pueblo Edén is home to many expats, who appreciate all its beauty and quaint feel.
This year, we decided to have an Open House at our home for friends to stop by, have snacks and soup, and then carpool on to the festivities in the village. It was a big hit!! People brought bread, snacks, and desserts and I made four different soups.
Here are recipe links from my cooking website (MissCookbook.com) to the soups that I made:
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I THOUGHT I hated sushi for so many years. Oh, how I missed out! My husband, a long-time sushi lover, would drag me to various sushi restaurants in Houston. I worked very hard to find something on the menu that was NOT sushi. I don't even remember why I didn't like it. How ridiculous is that?
One Saturday morning in Houston, with its many sushi offerings, I woke up and decided to give sushi a chance. It was a slow-blooming romance between us. We began as friends, with the occasional bite here and there of a rather bland California Roll. Then friends with benefits, as I munched my way through an entire Spicy Tuna Roll. Lastly, a full blown knock-your-socks-off love affair as I devoured Dragon Rolls and Spider Rolls!
When we moved to Austin, we devoted many a Saturday lunch-time to exploring new restaurants with sushi. Our agreement on loving this dish led to many miles traveled and tanks of gasoline burned. It was worth it all!
Now Uruguay... hmmm. We're still searching for the perfect sushi, but we've found some decent offerings here and there. The very best, however, has begun to originate from our own kitchen with my husband as Sushi Chef Master. All those trips to restaurants seem to have made him a sushi expert.
We've hosted a few Sushi Saturday dinner parties for friends lonely for some rolled up deliciousness. By the way - I feel like I'm cheating on my first love, SUSHI, but I now I even like sashimi!
One Saturday morning in Houston, with its many sushi offerings, I woke up and decided to give sushi a chance. It was a slow-blooming romance between us. We began as friends, with the occasional bite here and there of a rather bland California Roll. Then friends with benefits, as I munched my way through an entire Spicy Tuna Roll. Lastly, a full blown knock-your-socks-off love affair as I devoured Dragon Rolls and Spider Rolls!
When we moved to Austin, we devoted many a Saturday lunch-time to exploring new restaurants with sushi. Our agreement on loving this dish led to many miles traveled and tanks of gasoline burned. It was worth it all!
Now Uruguay... hmmm. We're still searching for the perfect sushi, but we've found some decent offerings here and there. The very best, however, has begun to originate from our own kitchen with my husband as Sushi Chef Master. All those trips to restaurants seem to have made him a sushi expert.
We've hosted a few Sushi Saturday dinner parties for friends lonely for some rolled up deliciousness. By the way - I feel like I'm cheating on my first love, SUSHI, but I now I even like sashimi!
Here's the recipe link for Hubby's incredible PERFECT SUSHI RICE from my cooking website: MissCookbook.com.
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Birthday time again! My family has always been big on birthdays - cakes, special dinners at home or restaurants, big parties for big birthday years, etc. Some may think it's silly, but there's always been a ton of love involved.
Once again, we went to my favorite ocean-side restaurant, La Huella, in José Ignacio. Business there was booming, as during this time of year reservations are a must - even for lunch.
Brotula is a type of white fish popular in Uruguay. It tastes a bit like red snapper. I like mine grilled on the parilla with French fries on the side and a big glass of cold, crisp white wine.
My husband and friends truly spoil me every year for my birthday and so much more. I do feel loved!
Once again, we went to my favorite ocean-side restaurant, La Huella, in José Ignacio. Business there was booming, as during this time of year reservations are a must - even for lunch.
Brotula is a type of white fish popular in Uruguay. It tastes a bit like red snapper. I like mine grilled on the parilla with French fries on the side and a big glass of cold, crisp white wine.
My husband and friends truly spoil me every year for my birthday and so much more. I do feel loved!
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Here's my recipe for PAELLA from MissCookbook.com.
I love, love, love paella. It's a traditional seafood, chicken, and sausage dish from the Valencia part of Spain. I first ate it in Spain - way baaack in the early 1970's and my tastebuds fell in love at first bite.
It took another 10 years to taste it again. My tastebuds were longing for it badly when my second mom, Lynne Young, made a rip-roaring version of it in Houston, Texas one night.
Never had it again until we moved to Uruguay. It's a traditional New Year's dish here. One of the large supermarkets has a giant paella pan (which looks somewhat like a wok). We're talking more than a meter in diameter. You can buy paella by the kilo!
This year we decided to make our own. We drove to Piriapolis, a smaller coastal town in Uruguay, about 45 minutes from us. No hardship, as it's a beautiful spot with great seafood vendors. We bought shrimp and mussels for our paella at the beach and made a quick stop at the grocery for some chicken and chorizo (sausage).
Here's the thing - my husband had never eaten paella. He thought it was a soup (which he loves) and more like gumbo. Nope, it's thicker, more like an etouffee or jambalaya. I only have Cajun food references, as that's how I grew up! He was in for a surprise, but he did like it,
Try it sometime for yourself - it's easy to make! Here's the link to my PAELLA RECIPE on my cooking website: MissCookbook.com.
It took another 10 years to taste it again. My tastebuds were longing for it badly when my second mom, Lynne Young, made a rip-roaring version of it in Houston, Texas one night.
Never had it again until we moved to Uruguay. It's a traditional New Year's dish here. One of the large supermarkets has a giant paella pan (which looks somewhat like a wok). We're talking more than a meter in diameter. You can buy paella by the kilo!
This year we decided to make our own. We drove to Piriapolis, a smaller coastal town in Uruguay, about 45 minutes from us. No hardship, as it's a beautiful spot with great seafood vendors. We bought shrimp and mussels for our paella at the beach and made a quick stop at the grocery for some chicken and chorizo (sausage).
Here's the thing - my husband had never eaten paella. He thought it was a soup (which he loves) and more like gumbo. Nope, it's thicker, more like an etouffee or jambalaya. I only have Cajun food references, as that's how I grew up! He was in for a surprise, but he did like it,
Try it sometime for yourself - it's easy to make! Here's the link to my PAELLA RECIPE on my cooking website: MissCookbook.com.
Piriapolis, Uruguay
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Get our family recipe for German Dumplings (SEMMELKNÖDEL),
Traditions, traditions, traditions!!! We all have made fun of our own or those of others, but I'm convinced that traditions are the stuffing that shape a culture.
I'm a Southern woman who married a German Guy, lived in Texas, then came to Uruguay. Boy howdy, do we ever have some mish-mash of traditions at our house! I'm not complaining, as I get the best Christmas traditions from all three cultures: pecan pies and divinity (Southern); lebkuchen cookies and semmelknödel dumplings (Germany); summer watermelons at the beach (Uruguay).
These semmelknödel, are fun to make! I looked at Hubby like he was nuts when he asked for a piece of cloth or dishtowel for making these. I had no idea. The cloth or dishtowel is wrapped around the dumpling tube to hold it together while cooking. It all made sense once I watched it cook.
No matter where we are, we love to eat these on Christmas Day with a pork loin or a roast chicken and some great red cabbage. Here's our grandmother's recipe; it's yummy: Maria Schlehuber's Red Cabbage. And here's my mother-in-law's recipe for Lebkuchen Spice Bars.
Whatever your holiday traditions may be, always cherish them and don't be afraid to change things up and add new ones.
I'm a Southern woman who married a German Guy, lived in Texas, then came to Uruguay. Boy howdy, do we ever have some mish-mash of traditions at our house! I'm not complaining, as I get the best Christmas traditions from all three cultures: pecan pies and divinity (Southern); lebkuchen cookies and semmelknödel dumplings (Germany); summer watermelons at the beach (Uruguay).
These semmelknödel, are fun to make! I looked at Hubby like he was nuts when he asked for a piece of cloth or dishtowel for making these. I had no idea. The cloth or dishtowel is wrapped around the dumpling tube to hold it together while cooking. It all made sense once I watched it cook.
No matter where we are, we love to eat these on Christmas Day with a pork loin or a roast chicken and some great red cabbage. Here's our grandmother's recipe; it's yummy: Maria Schlehuber's Red Cabbage. And here's my mother-in-law's recipe for Lebkuchen Spice Bars.
Whatever your holiday traditions may be, always cherish them and don't be afraid to change things up and add new ones.
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"I got the blues thinking of the future, so I left off and made some marmalade. It's amazing how it cheers one up to shred orange and scrub the floor." - D.H. Lawrence
Here's my recipe for ORANGE MARMALADE at my cooking website: MissCookbook.com.
After the canning of pickles In February, I still was determined to NEVER can/preserve another thing. Those memories of Mama hovering over a hot steamy stove in the summertime with no air conditioning will always linger!
But you know what they say about "NEVER." Friends brought us a very large bucket of Seville oranges from their tree. I thought, "Oh goody - orange juice!" Nope, turns out Seville oranges are sour and bitter; they're terrible for juice or eating. What do you do with them? You make orange marmalade. In fact they are the premier orange (greatly desired) for marmalade.
Oh, dear heavens...see where this is leading?
My husband chimed in that orange marmalade is his favorite jam or jelly. I was hoping he would forget that little factoid.
So now, faced with friends and spouse looking expectantly at me and my bucket of oranges, I'm forced to comply with the inevitable. It being the middle of winter helped greatly with my magnanimous decision to once "can" again.
Having no idea how to make marmalade, I tested two different recipes and read a dozen. After doing a lot of combining and tasting, I think this one is a winner. Here's my recipe from my cooking website, Miss Cookbook: https://www.misscookbook.com/orange-marmalade.html
But you know what they say about "NEVER." Friends brought us a very large bucket of Seville oranges from their tree. I thought, "Oh goody - orange juice!" Nope, turns out Seville oranges are sour and bitter; they're terrible for juice or eating. What do you do with them? You make orange marmalade. In fact they are the premier orange (greatly desired) for marmalade.
Oh, dear heavens...see where this is leading?
My husband chimed in that orange marmalade is his favorite jam or jelly. I was hoping he would forget that little factoid.
So now, faced with friends and spouse looking expectantly at me and my bucket of oranges, I'm forced to comply with the inevitable. It being the middle of winter helped greatly with my magnanimous decision to once "can" again.
Having no idea how to make marmalade, I tested two different recipes and read a dozen. After doing a lot of combining and tasting, I think this one is a winner. Here's my recipe from my cooking website, Miss Cookbook: https://www.misscookbook.com/orange-marmalade.html
