Tested: Mrs Evans’ so-called ‘marmalade’

It might as well be.

It might as well be.

As anyone familiar with the horse meat fiasco will tell you, it’s important to read the labels on our food these days.

Sadly, that’s a task that proved difficult with Mrs Evans’ watery, orange sub-jelly. Her hand-writing might improve if she drank a little less.

But with some trepidation I bought a jar of her runny ‘graveyard for oranges’, from the charity Round Lion’s stall in the town hall. Taking it off their hands was a charitable act in itself.

On returning home, I eventually worked out that she’d been trying to write ‘marmalade’, a claim which is unlikely to stand up in court.

And while her sham of a jam was blessedly free of horse on the inside, the outside was a different matter entirely. No horse or pig was immediately obvious, but there was a poorly dyed hair, and a tell-tale smear of Canesten.

It makes you wonder what else she’s put in it.

Despite this, I resolved to ‘take one for the team’, and plucked up the courage to defile one of my hand-thrown loaves with her filth.

What did I think? Lacking in consistency, rather too bitter, and an overpowering odour of whisky. It’s obvious where her ‘marmalade’ gets it from.

If I had to sum up this abomination of a breakfast conserve in one word, that word would have to be ‘trollop’.

In summary: Mrs Evans’ should spend a little less time making ‘marmalade’, and a little more time keeping her legs closed.

Review by Melody Hallet