ALTHOUGH initially daunting, it’s amazing how attuned the palate becomes when tasting hundreds of different versions of the same basic recipe. After a day’s tasting of marmalades submitted from all over the British Isles and indeed the world for judging in the World Marmalade Awards at Dalemain House in Cumbria, the voluntary judges – all professional foodies in their own right – had become experts in detecting such vital details as when waxed fruit had been used without first washing the wax off, when peel hadn’t been properly prepared and cooked, or when the balance of sweet/savoury to citrus had been skewed.

As a judge for the second year running, it was a fascinating insight into the wonder of human nature. Every single one of the 2000-plus jars submitted – from as far afield as Slovakia, Pakistan, Singapore, Japan, North America, Canada, Spain, France, Gibraltar, Portugal, Denmark, Norway, Australia, New Zealand, Switzerland, Alaska, Austria, South Africa and South Korea – was different and individual and, to me, highlighted the fallibility as well as the brilliance of human endeavour.

Who knew there could be so much variance in what is basically a confection of boiled citrus fruit and sugar?

There were categories for everyone, from first-time amateurs to small commercial producers and hotel, B&B and restaurant owners.

Although some were pretty awful, among the more successful were at least three marmalades containing the Japanese citrus fruit yuzu; one made with espresso; others with mango, blood orange, pink gin, seaweed and grapefruit. The majority were made with in-season Seville oranges as is tradition. The rule is that the citrus flavour must be dominant. One jar was swiftly labelled “not to be tasted” as it contained boiled turkey breast and no visible citrus, and could have given the judges salmonella.

The team of judges included the food historian Ivan Day, Three Chimneys restaurant founder Shirley Spear (whose hot marmalade pudding has been on the menu since the restaurant opened 32 years ago), food writer Dan Lepard, jam expert and author of the River Cottage Book of Preserves Pam Corbin, and chef Jeremy Lee.

I was a judge in the Marmalade McNab, one of the 14 Homemade categories of the awards, along with the journalist and broadcaster Fiona Armstrong, aka Lady MacGregor of MacGregor and recently appointed Lord Lieutenant of Dumfries.

We had fun tasting 52 entries, again from all over the world, specifically made to be consumed with “fish, fur or fowl” – in other words, salmon, venison or game birds/chicken/turkey.

The Marmalade McNab is named after the 1925 John Buchan novel John McNab, where a group of three bored City traders turn poachers and set out to catch a salmon and shoot a deer and a brace of grouse on three Scottish estates in the same 24-hour period (the McNab Challenge is still going strong today on sporting estates).

To me, this is the most interesting category of all. After all, in the very early days marmalade was made to be eaten with “roast pork, duck, goose and with hot boiled ham as well as on oatcakes, brown bread or a wheaten meal scone as an excellent last mouthful at breakfast”, according to Meg Dods’ 1828 Cook and Housewife Journal. There are recipes for marmalade dating back to the 17th century in both England and Scotland.

Marmalade, in its earliest form as a thick quince paste to be cut with a knife, has been eaten with savoury food for centuries – much like the Spanish membrillo we pay so much for today to add depth and interest our cheese boards.

Appearance is important, and some of the McNabs shone jewel-bright in the sunshine pouring through the panelled Georgian windows of Dalemain; others were cloudy and others again so dense no light could get through. They ranged from dark orange to bright yellow; peel ranged from the thinnest and most delicate cut of grapefruit to the most muckle – alright, then: plain crude – orange rind the size of a two-pence piece.

Some contained chilli pieces and/or fresh ginger, and other entries stood showcased whole black peppercorns, juniper, star anise, fennel, cranberries, rosemary stalks, beetroot, mustard seeds, redcurrants, pomegranate seeds – and even edible gold glitter. They were extremely attractive to look at, and made for some intriguing taste experiences.

In terms of consistency, though, they didn’t always deliver. Some ran like seawater against a porthole when the unopened jar was tipped over on its side; others were so firm they were more like toffee. Some had honey notes, others molasses or treacle, another limoncillo citrus notes; there was whisky and vodka marmalade, and at least one had Angostura bitters added. Cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, coconut, chocolate and elderflower were other flavourings.

It was a most extraordinary day. We awarded a few golds, a few silvers and some bronzes, though others for one reason or another just didn’t make the grade. All efforts were honest and sincere, and spoke volumes about the people behind them. And that, surely, is what it’s really all about.

I feel privileged and humbled to have been there.

The winners of the World Marmalade Awards will be announced on February 28 and March 19, 2016.