Who doesn't fancy a spot of Marmalade on a Sunday afternoon? Nothing goes down better with sweet milky tea than a tart fruit jam, spread thickly on toast. Marmalade takes me back to my childhood. Marmalade sandwhiches for afternoon tea, a marmalade cat called Rusty and belting out what we thought was "Pretty Lady Marmalade" with Christina Aguilera. Ah yes, the joys of pure, traditional conservative conserves (in a non-puritan way).
But this Jam adventure goes back farther than that. It starts with a remarkable unmarketable fruit known as the Chinese Gooseberry. Fascinating as the fruit was, with its bright green flesh and awkward brown fur coat, it had no place amongst the strawberries and plums of the day. Furthermore, with a name like 'Chinese Gooseberry' it seemed more foreign and alienable than ever.
Enter New Zealand, good old fashioned f'sh and ch'ps New Zealand, and names the buggers 'Kiwifruit'. They become an overnight sensation, suddenly a fruit that is safely exotic. People want to try the wonders of the world with the security of a developed nation in it's name.
In a way we provide this safety in our Jam. The bizarre quality of kiwifruit mellowed with the sweet tang of traditional British Marmalade. We are New Zealand, slowly expanding the tastes of the world one name change at a time. We are mixing society, mixing fruit and making Jam! We are fighting for the marginalised Chinese Gooseberry!!
....But also kiwifruit was on sale at our local Jewish grocer.
Jews are like kiwifruit. In some regard.
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