Meyer lemon and blood orange marmalade

Small-batch Meyer lemon and blood orange marmalade is just as gorgeous as it is delicious.

My history with Meyer lemons is complicated.

Mr. Ninj and I used to live in California, once upon a time. In The OC, in fact. However, no one who actually lived there ever called it "The OC" -- that's just stupid. Let's just say it was a very surreal experience.

My favorite part of living there, though, was that our postage-stamp-sized back yard had the biggest, most prolific Meyer lemon tree on the planet. No joke: ON THE PLANET, I'm sure. Each winter, when it produced its GIGANTIC fruit, I used to ship boxes of them back to friends and relatives on the East Coast. Yes, BOXES. I had enough Meyer lemons (and these suckers were BIG) to have my own mail-order business.

(And yes, I'm purposely using A LOT OF CAPS for emphasis, so you understand the awesomeness of my tree.)

Here's the funny part: Meyer lemons were not hip and trendy back then as they are now. I had a hell of a time finding any recipes that called for Meyer lemons -- and, unfortunately, this was before I knew how to can.

So we made a lot of lemonade. What a waste.

And now, of course, I know how to preserve and have about 17 bajillion recipes that call for Meyer lemons -- and I live in Vermont, which isn't exactly the citrus capital of the world.

God, I miss that tree.

(Hey, current residents of my old house at 21 Mallorca in Foothill Ranch, California -- can you send me some lemons? Pretty please? We fertilized the bejesus out of that tree and you are reaping the benefits. I will happily pay shipping costs and send you jam in return -- and I won't even hold it against you that you cut down those beautiful palm trees. Thanks.)

When we moved from California to North Carolina, my awesome friend Judy, aware of my pain at leaving the tree, sent me a baby Meyer lemon tree via mail order for me to grow in a pot. Yippee! I had so many visions of continuing my Meyer lemon dynasty on the East Coast.

Here's where the Meyer lemon saga gets complicated. Because I thought Judy's idea was so great, I gifted my mom with the same kind of baby Meyer lemon tree for her birthday. In 2004.  The same year I got my tree. Which then got some kind of disease and died (well, Judy claims I "killed it" -- whatevs -- but I know it was a disease.) And my mom's tree did not get the same disease and lived.

So The Ninj, who loves putting up food in Mason jars and craves all things Meyer lemon, has no tree. The Ninj's mom, on the other hand, who doesn't even cook any more and could give a rat's ass about Meyer lemons, has a tree. A 10-year-old tree that produces about four big lemons each year.  The universe is cruel.

Now, to my mom's credit, she generously gives them away ... but, here's the kicker, only one per person.

You know what you can do with ONE Meyer lemon? A whole lotta nothing, Mom, that's what.

So when I received my ONE Meyer lemon from Mom this year, I thought long and hard about how to use it. I even polled my Facebook users (btw, good suggestions, Feeps -- I think I'll make Meyer lemon curd next year). That's when I decided I could stretch the lemony goodness by pairing it with some gorgeous blood oranges and making them all into a marmalade.

Orange-cumin chutney and chutney cheese spread

I'm doing a lot more canning this summer than in past years. Partly because the wee orchard has finally started bearing fruit (thank you, fertilizer) and partly because I'm cooking along with Sherri Brooks Vinton's Put 'Em Up Fruit as part of the From Scratch Club's virtual book club.

Our latest assignment topic was blackberries, raspberries and oranges. Now, you know The Ninj tries to cook and eat locally as much as possible but, given that I'm certain I'll never find an orange grown in Vermont, I decided to stray and buy some oranges to make one of Sherri's chutneys. (I also made a great mixed berry jam, but that's a discussion for another post.)

I'm glad I did because the chutney inspired perhaps one of the most hilarious conversations ever. Let me set the scene for you:

I'm jammin' up some chutney in the kitchen and Mr. Ninj comes into the house from the garage.

Mr. Ninj: "Wow, it smells good in here. Whatcha making?"
Me: "Orange cumin chutney."
Mr. Ninj: "ORANGE HUMAN CHUTNEY?????????????!!!!!!!" (yes, shrieking)
Me: "Yes. Orange human chutney. It's like Soilant Green but much tastier."

Dudes, I am never that quick with a witty comeback! 

So of course we now refer to it only as Orange-Human Chutney. (Sorry, Sherri.) I usually make jar labels for my canned goods: I can't wait to make that one.