In March 2021, my mother and best friend tragically died of a rare stroke, aged 63, going on 36. It was totally unprecedented and with no previous history or symptoms. One day I was FaceTiming her from my flat in London, excitedly planning her next trip to the capital, the next, she was gone.

 

To say she was gone before her time is an understatement; a more vibrant, energetic, passionate and life-loving person you would be unlikely to meet. Her joie-de-vivre and her completely unparalleled love for her family and friends made her a truly special and unique woman. She touched so many different people’s lives in so many ways; she leaves behind a void which can never be filled.

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For many years, January has become synonymous for me with the annual marmalade marathon; after reading about the World Marmalade Awards in a magazine many years ago, I was determined to enter it. Having never made marmalade before, but having always been incredibly greedy and generally obsessed with food, I turned, of course, to my mum, who I assumed (correctly) would know exactly what to do. She was, of course, well-versed in marmalade-making. Her first batch was made while living in a bedsit in Bath with her best friend aged 25, studying for her teaching qualification. 

 

It is to her natural talent in the kitchen (she would make anything and everything taste unbelievable, whilst always modestly denying that she had any skill whatsoever - ‘It’s probably disgusting, sorry!') - that I owe my unapologetic greed and total love of food. She had the most innate understanding of taste, flavour, and seasoning. After trying a new dish in a restaurant together, she would subsequently spend hours researching recipes and methods and articles on that dish, and then draw on all of them to create something totally unique, derived from her own sense of flavour.

 

I lost count of the number of times I would eat something delicious she had produced, and ask for the recipe she had used - to which she would reply, ‘Oh, well, I didn’t really follow a recipe…' From a young age this always blew my mind, until I realised that’s how truly natural cooks work. The resulting tragedy is, of course, that I cannot reproduce the exact dishes she perfected. There are still dishes in the freezer of hers, of which I savour every. single. bite. I cannot bear to ever finish them. 

 

This year, I was not sure whether I would make marmalade. I didn't know if I could do it without her. 

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But then, I thought, if there was a way I could use our marmalade tradition as a vehicle to prevent even just one person, or family - and hopefully more - from going through this earth-shattering tragedy, then it would be

worth it. 

 

I make no claim to be the world’s best marmalade maker - even less so now I have had to undertake this mammoth mission without the reassuring guidance of my mum, helping me to decide whether I have reached that ever-elusive setting point. Your dad’s or your granny’s or certainly Frank Cooper’s could easily be better. 

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But by donating to The Stroke Association, you are contributing towards valuable research into the causes of such tragic and unforeseeable illnesses.  I also wanted to keep Mum’s legacy alive, and to produce this marmalade in her memory and in her honour.

 

For those of you who knew her, please remember her with love and thanks every time you lather some Joy atop a piping hot, freshly toasted and liberally buttered hunk of sourdough (recommended serving suggestion). I truly believe there is no better start to the day.

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For those of you who didn’t know her, please take a minute in between mouthfuls to treasure your loved ones; never take them for granted, and though it may sound like a cliché - you really do never know which day is going to be your last.

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Thank you.