The Easy Candied Orange Peel That Saved My Sanity (And Maybe Yours)

So I was going to write about Easy Candied Orange Peel today, but then my neighbour Carol knocked to borrow sugar—again—and we ended up talking about her divorce for 20 minutes. Which, honestly, is more interesting than most recipe intros. I mean, did you know she met her new boyfriend on a dating app called “Meet Your Matchmaker”? [Eye roll] Anyway, we shared a proper laugh about how the 90s dating scene was far less complicated—at least you could wander around town and bump into someone with a pair of platform shoes and frosted tips. Now you’ve got to swipe left or right like it’s a game of dodgeball.

But here we are. Easy Candied Orange Peel. Right. It’s funny how culinary creations can become comforting touchstones. (Not that I’m calling orange peel comforting, but you get what I mean.) The scent that wafts through the kitchen transports me back to making treats for the kids during school holidays. Or maybe it was the time I attempted to host a festive gathering with half the neighbourhood—a complete disaster when I accidentally burnt the beef. Can’t remember quite what year that was… 2017? No, 2018 because that’s when we got the new oven…

As I sit here—a bit achy in the knees from too much time at the counter, my reading glasses perched on my head—I can’t help but think: I need this recipe today. Everything has felt a bit chaotic lately, with Buster demanding his daily walks (the dog just doesn’t understand the concept of rainy days), and my kids buzzing my phone about their social plans as if they’re still in school. So, let’s get our hands a bit sticky and make some candied orange peel, shall we?

What You’ll Actually Need (Plus Substitutions That Work)

This isn’t just food. This is what you make when:

Your teenager comes home crying about their first heartbreak. (Chloe came home last week, and it was a whole production… until I handed her a piece of this and suddenly we could talk.)
You’re pretending to have your life together for book club. (You know, the one where everyone brings dishes and you just snag the leftovers from Sainsbury’s?)
It’s raining for the seventh day straight and you’re going slightly mad. (Yes, I’m definitely staring out the window at puddles right now.)
You need to feel like a competent human being again. (Spoiler: baking this is basically adulting success.)

Now, I made a cute little table for you, looking all organised and whatnot. (This lasted about 7 minutes before I got distracted by Love Island reruns.) Here’s what you’ll need:

Ingredient	Notes
4 fresh unwaxed oranges (preferably organic, navel or Valencia)	Don’t skimp on the fresh ones — your kitchen will smell amazing.
1 cup granulated sugar	I use Tesco own-brand because I’m not made of money.
1 cup water	Water. As simple as it gets.
Pinch of salt	Salt is life in recipes like this! It brings out the flavour — who knew?
½ teaspoon vanilla extract	Just a whisper — makes it all a bit more fragrant.
Spices (1 cinnamon stick, 2 star anise, or 3 cloves – optional)	Add a festive flair, especially if you’re feeling nostalgic for Christmas.
Powdered sugar or coconut sugar (vegan glaze alternative)	Because why not? Decadent is the way forward.
Dark or white chocolate (optional, for dipping)	Let’s get extra — who doesn’t love chocolate?

Real talk: if you’re missing something, text your neighbour. Or improvise. My friend Linda once used vinegar instead of lemon juice, and it was… edible. We’re still friends.

Step-by-Step with All My Mistakes Included

Step 1: Prepare the Oranges

Look, man, first things first: you need to wash those oranges. The zest is good, but not that weird waxy coating. Just an annoying reminder that grocery stores are weird sometimes. While I’m rubbing the oranges, I think about how my daughter Chloe always steals the oranges before I can use them. Honestly, the nerve!

Why This Step Matters: You want to make sure your peel is as clean as can be.
Common Screw-Up: Forgetting to wash them properly. How to fix: Add more citrus! It’s a science.
Multitasking Tip: While you’re at it, why not refill that cup of tea you’ve been nursing? Speak of—[Sigh]—almost empty here.
Anecdote: My son Tom once thought he could zest an orange without a zester, and let’s just say the kitchen looked like a citrus explosion for about an hour.
Sensory Cues: You’ll know it’s ready when that fresh orange scent starts wafting around your kitchen… makes all the aches go away somehow.
Time Check: Okay, just realised I forgot the salt. Adding now!

Step 2: Cut the Peel

Now, it’s time to slice! Thin strips or thick. Your call. I prefer thin; more candy, less bitterness.

Why This Step Matters: If they’re too thick, they take longer to candy.
Common Screw-Up: If they’re too thin, they’ll dissolve into sweetness. How to fix: Sometimes, it might just be a happy accident—less peel, more sweetness!
Multitasking Tip: Tidy that kitchen! I always end up getting stuff tangled up while cooking.
Anecdote: The first time I made this, I ended up with 50 little bits of peel and nearly lost half of them in the sink.
Sensory Cues: You’ll know it’s right when you can see the vibrant orange contrasted beautifully against the white pith.
Time Check: Just burned my finger. Again. Running it under cold water.

Step 3: Boil, Rinse, Repeat

So, pop those peels into a saucepan, cover with water, and bring it to a boil. Let them simmer for about 20 minutes. Sometimes I wonder if food can talk—imagine the gossip they’d share.

Why This Step Matters: This takes the bitter edge off the peels.
Common Screw-Up: Not boiling long enough. How to fix: Give them a few extra minutes; they’ll forgive you.
Multitasking Tip: While this happens, you can empty the dishwasher. Or just scroll Instagram… I won’t judge.
Anecdote: I remember the first time my husband tried to ‘help’—he added sugar before boiling. Instant chunky soup.
Sensory Cues: You’ll know it’s ready when the peels look glistening and feel tender.
Time Check: Oops, forgot to set a timer! Just realised it’s been 30 minutes.

Step 4: The Sugar Bath

Drain the peels, then add the sugar and water back in that saucepan. Bring to a lovely simmer and add those peels back in to soak up that sweet, sweet syrup.

Why This Step Matters: This is where the magic happens. Sugar makes everything moreish.
Common Screw-Up: Not letting it simmer long enough. How to fix: More patience, darling.
Multitasking Tip: Phil can walk Buster while you stand by the stove watching like it’s your new Netflix series.
Anecdote: One year, we had a whole sticky situation when Chloe decided to ‘help’ and dumped an entire bag of sugar into the pot. We had to dilute it with extra peel.
Sensory Cues: You’ll know it’s done when the syrup is all thick and the peels look shiny—like little jewels!
Time Check: Just realised I’m not sure how long this has been cooking. Cooking on instinct is a skill, right?

Step 5: Drying Time and Chocolate Dip (Optional)

Once they’re lovely and sticky, lay them out on parchment paper and let them cool. If you fancy a chocolate dip (always), melt your chocolate while they cool.

Why This Step Matters: You need a place for the peels to dry, otherwise they’re just a sticky mess.
Common Screw-Up: Rushing to skip the cooling stage. How to fix: More patience, I say.
Multitasking Tip: Now’s a good time for a quick clean of those dishes piling up; they won’t do themselves!
Anecdote: Last time I dipped them, Tom sneaked one while it was hot and burnt his mouth. Lesson learned, darling.
Sensory Cues: You’ll know they’re ready when they feel just tacky and not wet anymore.
Time Check: Goodness! It’s now 6 PM. Is it too early for wine?

When Things Go Wrong (And They Will)

Now look, I need to be honest: this isn’t a foolproof recipe. Sometimes it goes completely awry.

If you burn it: Scrape off the black bits. Call it ‘caramelised.’
If it’s too salty: Add a potato. Old wives’ tale that actually works, surprising, right?
If you need to abandon ship: Order pizza. No judgement here. Try again next week.

Serving with Personality

I serve this on my grandma’s chipped platter. You know, the one with the floral design that’s left over from the 70s? The chips have stories, I tell you.

This Easy Candied Orange Peel pairs wonderfully with a good cuppa or as a cheeky treat on top of your afternoon yoghurt. Leftovers keep for about a week—if they last that long! They’re even more delicious on day two because the flavours have had a chance to get to know each other. Just like old friends.

A Day in My Kitchen with This Recipe

I usually start this at 4 PM, right after my last work call but before the ‘witching hour’ when everyone gets hangry. (Today’s a special case; I actually managed to finish my email first.)

While it cooks, I’m juggling folding laundry or calling my sister in Australia. The time difference works for once.

We eat at the kitchen table with our phones in another room—my husband and I will even dare to talk about our days without scrolling! What a radical act in 2024! Cleanup takes about 15 minutes with Phil drying as I wash, and we chat about our day. It’s our little ritual.

Summary

So that’s Easy Candied Orange Peel. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine. It’s seen me through school events, family feuds, and the strange phase when we thought we’d all take up gardening that never really took off.

What’s your go-to comfort recipe when life gets messy? Mine’s this, always.

Can I tell you a secret? These peels sometimes end up in my pocket for a sweet snack while I’m watching BBC Radio 2—definitely not a glamourous situation, but it’s MY little joy!

Anyway, I hope you love this as much as we do… now if only Buster would stop eyeing that forgotten half-dipped piece on the counter.

Until next time, love! 🧡