There is something irresistibly cosy about marmalade. Thickly spread on generously buttered bread or toast, all you need to complete the moment is a cup of tea and suddenly everything feels all right with the world. Marmalade on toast is as comforting as eggs with soldiers or scones topped with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Certain foods are meant for each other: toast, melting butter and a burst of tangy fruit with a hint of bitterness is a marriage made in heaven.
Some people stand by the bitterness of marmalade as the perfect chaser to fried eggs and bacon, but in my childhood, although we ate plenty of good food, a cooked breakfast wasn’t held in great reverence. I’m still not a fan. Bacon sandwiches aside, I’m a sweet-toothed girl in the morning. Toast and preserve were the anchor of our family morning table; there was always a pot of good marmalade to dig into and set our tastebuds jingling. Toast and marmalade seems to me to be emblematic of a British way of life and is firmly buried in our culinary psyche, as well as being one of our culinary ambassadors around the world.