Meeting the judges at the Marmalade Awards Corbin was still hard at it judging the final category, the Marmalade Ashes, or "Marmalashes," at a table in front of the fire in the drawing room. The contest between the marmalade makers of the town of Buninyong in Australia and Dalemain is fiercely fought; last year the Australians won by a mere point and a half. So far this year the Buninyong XII (they play the 12th man) were playing a blinder, but Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, captain of the Dalemain XII, had entered a jar so there was hope for a late rally from the home side. The team of judges tasted from teaspoons and consulted over a jar made from minced peel, as opposed to hand cut. I'm not a fan. I don't like bitty peel," admitted Martin Grant of Mackays marmalade, another judge. There was a murmur of assent around the table. Corbin considered. It's interesting. We don't like minced peel but it does release the flavour. At a nearby table, Eileen Wilson and Doreen Cameron were chatting to visitors and competitors. As well as judging the amateur section of the awards, tasting every one of the entries, they are national judges for the Women's Institute, a position that requires both a practical and a written exam. It's not enough to know it's good. You have to know why it's good," said Cameron. The most common error, Wilson confided in her soft Cumbrian accent, "is not cooking the peel enough before the sugar is added, so it goes hard." "The men are the worst for getting their marmalade black and overcooked," added Cameron. While marmalade will darken as it ages, they agreed that in general a beer-bottle brown colour in marmalade comes from adding muscovado sugar or treacle. Or burning. Both women roared with laughter. Victoria Cranfield of Cranfield Foods, who has won the artisan award for her pink grapefruit marmalade, joined me to admire the amateur contingent. Neatly lined up on the tables, the diversity of jars alone was remarkable: short and tall, round and hexagonal, recycled mayonnaise containers and pesto pots, and ones that might kindly be described as antique. Beneath each was a cream-coloured scorecard, neatly filled in with marks for clarity, appearance, flavour, and handwritten comments. Most are encouraging, "Great flavour!" or "lovely colour," while a few have pithy codicils, "peel could be cooked for longer" or "use new lids." Why is it, I wondered, that mass-produced marmalade can never compare to home-made? Cranfield knew the answer. The large manufacturers all use tinned, prepared fruit, so oranges in the marmalade have been processed twice, and it tends to be a sugary conglomeration. You don't get the punch of citrus. Striding through the oak doors came last year's champion of champions, Lord Henley. His recipe was taken and manufactured for Fortnum & Mason, where it became the bestselling marmalade, selling 10,300 jars over the year. Fifty pence from each jar, along with the entry fees from all the amateur categories, goes to Hospices at Home, and £17,000 was raised for the charity. Lord Henley brightened as he discussed the art of preserve making. I enjoy making it partly because of the smell around the house. He twitched his aristocratic nostrils expressively. Hand-cut or minced? I use a marmalade cutter, like an old-fashioned meat mincer. The prizes were announced, and 70-year-old Hazel Rushton was proclaimed overall champion for her Seville orange marmalade with molasses sugar; delicious, fruity, not too sweet and with an arresting treacly flavour. The secret, she told me, was to make it over two days. My grandmother used to say three days but we don't have time for that nowadays. I soak the fruit overnight, then simmer it for a good hour until it is really soft before adding the sugar. I boil until it coats the back of the spoon well, then test it on a saucer. Contrary to received wisdom, the saucer doesn't need to be chilled first. I just keep it on the windowsill. The results of the Marmalashes come in shortly afterwards. "It's a whitewash, I'm afraid," declared Corbin. But what about Hugh's marmalade? It turns out that, incognito, his "Tawney Crab" has already been judged, and raised only 14 points for the home side. "He does a lot of great things but he's no marmalade maker," admitted Pam. And he is a good sport, we concluded. Lady Cora would approve. How to win a marmalade award Colour and clarity The marmalade should be bright and translucent, but not at the expense of flavour. Very transparent marmalades are often the result of adding too much sugar. Consistency The marmalade should be set, not syrupy. The peel should be really soft, so boil it until it can be rubbed away between finger and thumb before adding the sugar. Flavour and aroma If it says Seville on the label, that's what it should taste of. And if it is Seville orange and something else, the orange should still predominate. And it mustn't be overcooked. Appearance Fill the jar right to the top, polish the glass, write the label neatly and put it on straight. Avoid old pickle jars as the smell lingers. Likewise, don't use jars or lids with trademarks on. "It's illegal," Doreen told me severely. Next year's Marmalade Festival and Awards ceremony will be held on February 23-24. For entry forms go to marmaladeawards.com, call 01768 486450 or write to Marmalade Awards, Dalemain, Penrith, Cumbria CA11 OHB The Book of Marmalade by C Anne Wilson (Prospect Books, RRP £9.99) is available from Telegraph Books at £9.99 + 99p p & p.