I first heard of Marmalade while reading the Paddington Bear stories. It sounded like the most marvelous creation slathered on steaming hot biscuits dripping with butter. I woke up to the sound of rain today and by the time I drove home from the gym, a steady drizzle had dampened the road and had begun to trickle into the garage (which chronically floods). All I wanted to do was get indoors, drink a steaming cup of coffee with cream and sink my teeth into one of my husbands buttermilk biscuits with lashings of marmalade. Now, desire and what one actual does is often in conflict. My digestive system has rebelled against all wheat products so I had to compromise with steel cut oatmeal. But marmalade, ah, there one can make concessions.