Starved for variety with strawberry jam? Disgruntled with grape jelly? This bold marmalade is easy to make and has incredible flavor. Like so many jams, it is easy to imagine multiple uses beyond toast: topping ice cream or yogurt, glazing cakes, devising a marinade for meat, or assembling a sauce. Another application that came to mind for this marmalade is to stir a dollop into a cup of tea instead of sweetener.
Here are a few pointers on getting started:
Unless you are much faster at breaking down lemons than I am, it will take at least 20-30 minutes to peel, trim, quarter, and slice eight lemons. Because I like to be as efficient as possible when cooking, I peeled two lemons first, then added the zest to 1 cup of water and began simmering right away, adding the remaining lemon zest and slices as I went along. Since the pith is so bitter, I was very obsessive about removing it carefully, which was the most time consuming task. I added another 1/2 cup of water to my lemons before moving on to the ginger. I realize the recipe instructs to put everything in the pot first before simmering, but I’m just too impatient. Also, I tend to hold back on adding all the water in preserves recipes at once because I’ve often found the results too runny for my taste with the amount called for in the instructions.

As the lemon zest and bits stewed away on the stove, I grated the ginger. One skill I’m still working to master is determining how much of a produce item to buy when the recipe simply refers to a measured amount. Unless the recipe is specific (6 - 8 lemons), I’m sometimes at a loss. For this recipe, I used a ginger root about the size of my hand, and had no leftovers in generating the half cup of ginger. Again, I know the recipe says finely chopped, but I’ve finely chopped ginger before, and without better knife skills, this is a momentous task. Besides, the person who invented the ginger grater is a genius. The ginger is reduced to a gentle mush, and those pesky threads which make chopping such a bear are left behind in a sort of culinary dust bunny.

My instinct to hold back on the last half cup of water did prove useful in this case, because the ginger grater collected quite a bit of juice. I added the juice instead of the remaining water, which brought up the zing from the ginger quite a bit!
The final tip is to watch for any rogue seeds as you reduce the mixture. Although I was very fastidious about removing any seeds before the lemons went into the pot, it was inevitable that a few sneaked in. This recipe did end up making closer to eight cups of marmalade, and who can complain when a recipe makes more than it promised upfront? The lemon and ginger work naturally together, making quite a wake up call for your taste buds!
