At the beginning of the year, it’s nice to fill the new calendar with all those special dates that one has to look forward to through the year.

The holidays, the weekends away, the visits from friends and family.

I acknowledge that some of these will, however, be written in green ink and anticipated as much as an afternoon in the dentist’s chair. But, largely, the year ahead is filled with those little moments, the little markers we work towards.

It brightens the mood, especially in the dark days at the beginning of the year.

We chefs, too, spend this time thinking ahead to the food seasons. Granted, things are a little topsy-turvy thanks to the unseasonable pre-Christmas temperatures (I heard that the March cauliflowers are ready for picking right now, and the first asparagus heads are peeping out of their sandy beds), but all it takes is a cold snap for things to get back on track, more or less.

Traditionally, the foodie year begins early with the Seville oranges, and it’s here where we’re stopping today.

Over the next few weeks, the forced Yorkshire rhubarb will be picked, and after that we’re into early spring and my beloved wild garlic will be carpeting the woodlands with its scintillating emerald leaves.

Marbella Plaza de Alameda in Andalucia

For almost every month there is a special ingredient to be used at the peak of its powers, and right now, across Andalucía in southern Spain, the wonderful bitter oranges are at their very best.

Unlike regular sweet ‘dessert’ oranges, Sevilles (also known as bigarades), beneath their trademark knobbly skins, have very sour flesh and a thick layer of pith, loaded with pectin, making them ideal for slow-cooking and setting into jams and jellies.

You wouldn’t want to peel and eat one as they’re quite unpleasantly bitter and waxy.

Almost all of the oranges grown in Spain are sent north to the countries where marmalade is much prized, and still made both commercially and domestically.

Portugal, France and Italy love their confitures and marmeladas, but perhaps nowhere is proper old-fashioned orange marmalade as popular as right here in the UK.

Few British cupboards are without a pot of the stuff. Whether it’s in Paddington Bear’s classic sandwich, or smeared over a croissant with a cup of dark-roast coffee, we love the stuff, both making it and eating it. I’d go so far as to say that no proper Full English Breakfast should be able to call itself such without the ‘dessert’ course of a few rounds of marmalade on toast.

And, here’s a tip – roast some sausages, and then, just as they’re about finished, stir in a splash of lemon juice and a big blob of marmalade, and let it reduce and caramelise. You’ll end up with deliciously sticky sausages with a lovely tangy glaze.

Marmalade-making is very much in vogue right now, too, as everyone is starting to see the benefits, both financially and culinarily, of knocking up the year’s supply or marmalade all at once. It’s a day’s hard work, but keeps one entertained and the kitchen is magically filled with billowing citrus-scented steam.

Seville oranges

It keeps well, maturing as it goes, and the orange can be combined with many other flavours to make interesting variants.

Grapefruit, ginger and lemon are brilliant combinations, as is a hint of rosemary or thyme.

This cake makes full use of Seville oranges both in its filling of marmalade, but also in the loaf itself, bursting with zest, and also in the finishing glaze.

The basic loaf is a lovely, warming Scandinavian tea-bread recipe with a hint of spice, honey sweetness, and a lovely sharpness from the yoghurt.

This, combined with a sugary buttercream and that terrific, tangy marmalade, makes a lovely wintertime cake with that little hint of warm Andalucían sunshine peeking through the clouds above.

FOR THE CAKE:

100g unsalted butter, plus extra for greasing

125g mild-flavoured honey (acacia is ideal)

60g unrefined light muscovado sugar

3 eggs, lightly beaten

275g plain flour

1½ tsp bicarbonate of soda

2 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp ground cinnamon

The grated zest of 1 Seville orange

200g natural yoghurt

FOR THE BUTTERCREAM FILLING:

250g unsalted butter, softened and diced

150g icing sugar

The seeds of two vanilla pods

Small splash of orange liqueur (optional)

Several tablespoons good-quality or homemade marmalade

FOR THE FINISHING ICING:

1-2 tablespoons orange juice

160g icing sugar

The grated zest of 1 Seville orange

METHOD:

Preheat the oven to 180°C / Gas 4. Butter a 30 x 11cm loaf tin and line the base with baking parchment. Butter the parchment lightly.

Melt the butter and honey in a saucepan, leave to cool a little, then whisk into the yoghurt.

In the bowl of a mixer, set the eggs and muscovado sugar beating on medium speed, then when smooth, turn up and whisk until very pale and fluffy. Remove from the mixer and gently sift in the flour, the bicarbonate of soda and the spices. Fold in firmly but quickly, so as to avoid deflation, then quickly stir in the buttery honey mixture and the grated zest. Finally, fold in the zest and the yoghurt mixture and pour gently into the prepared tin. Bake for about an hour.

To test, insert a skewer into the middle of the cake; it should come out completely clean. When cooked, removed from the oven and leave the cake to cool on a wire rack for about half an hour before turning out and allowing to cool completely.

Meanwhile, make the buttercream; beat the sugar and butter together, slowly at first, then at top speed, until very light and airy. This should take at least 10 minutes. Add the vanilla and a splash of liqueur, if using, and whizz for a minute or so.

When the cake is fully cold, carefully cut it horizontally into three layers with a sharp serrated knife. Spread the marmalade evenly over the two lower layers, and divide the buttercream between the same layers.

With a palette knife, work the buttercream to the corners of the cake and level off the mixture as neatly as possible.

Sandwich the cake back together, pressing lightly to stick the layers together. Finally, make the icing by sifting the icing sugar into a bowl, and carefully whisking in the orange juice and zest, making a nice thick coating consistency. Carefully spoon this over the cake and allow it to set slightly before cutting the cake and serving in generous slices.