I wouldn’t call myself a jam maker. But, when I saw a bowl of kumquats on the kitchen counter left over from my extensive photo shoot with kiwis (they didn’t make the cut), I knew I had to do something with them. I have a love/hate relationship with kumquats. One moment, I’ll eat one that is fantastically tart and bursting with sweet, citrus flavor. Then, I’ll reach for another and I’m suddenly aware that I’m eating a miniature, oval shaped orange with its skin. The tartness and pithiness practically slaps me across the face and I’m left feeling confused and alone. I’m being a little dramatic. What it boils down to is that I knew I’d be staring at that bowl of kumquats on the counter until they spoiled, the orange pile only slightly dented from the curious passerby. I can’t stand watching a fruit or vegetable spoil. I made marmalade.
Spring is turning to summer, I can feel it. I remember lazy Saturdays and late sunsets. Picnics and peaches. Ice-cold Bavarian wheat beer with a wedge of orange.
I didn’t have an orange but I had kumquat marmalade, beer and chicken. It seemed dangerous, but it could be a match made in heaven. Like some sort of forbidden British-Bavarian love affair.