Every January and February, when bitter Seville oranges from Spain are available for a few short weeks, marmalade makers shut themselves away in their kitchens to chop, pulp and boil.

Many of those home-made marmalades – along with other non-Seville marmalades from as far afield as Hawaii, Japan, Taiwan and Australia – wind their way to Dalemain, which this year received just under 3,000 pots of the sweet, sticky preserve.

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The 2024 competition featured 17 categories, including entries from a Taiwanese orphanage in the children’s section and a US women’s correctional facility in the newly introduced prisons class.

Made by boiling together the juice and peel of citrus fruits, sugar and water, marmalade as we know it now was pioneered commercially in the late 18th century by the Keiller family of Dundee in Scotland.

Spread generously on buttered toast, it is traditionally a staple of British breakfast tables, as well the favoured sandwich filling of children’s character Paddington, a small bear from “deepest, darkest Peru”.

“We got a silver, which we’re delighted about!” says James Stoddart, a prison rehabilitation worker in northeast England, spotting his jail’s entry adorned with a silver star.

Two prisoners had lobbied to take part, inspired by one of their daughters who loved Paddington, he says, even though neither of them had a clue how to make marmalade.

“You’re not allowed glass inside prisons so we had to really fight to get it in and get it done,” he says, adding that 12 jars were eventually produced, including one that was sent to the little girl.

Founded by Dalemain chatelaine Jane Hasell-McCosh, the awards are held annually at the family’s historic house in the Lake District and have raised more than £250,000 (US$310,000) for charity.

From just 60 jars from the local area in 2005, there are now spin-off events taking place in Japan and Australia.

Atsuko Hayashi, owner of preserve maker The English Kitchen, in Tokyo, says the pastime has changed her life by helping her to “connect with people” globally.

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For London-based Danish photographer Henrik Knudsen, marmalade making is “a very English thing” which he has happily adopted since living in the UK.

But he says getting it right is not an exact science and the results can be unpredictable.

The clarity can be wrong, the peel might be a bit tough, the texture can be too runny, he says. “That’s the charm of it.”

The skit was a welcome reminder of marmalade’s qualities at a time when home-made has never been more popular, says Caroline Hodge, winner of the dark and chunky category.

Mass-produced marmalade had “got sugary and that’s not flavour”, she says, explaining that she reduced the sugar content of a recipe handed down to her by an aunt and added ginger, turmeric and allspice.

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“It’s very emotional because my aunt is no longer here and I’m a bit blown away,” she says.

Retiring head judge Dan Lepard says the awards are a “broad church” happy to embrace “all the citrus fruits in the world” – not just Seville oranges – as well as unusual flavourings.

For the overall 2024 winner, Stephen Snead, the honour comes with the added bonus of having his marmalade commercially produced for a year and sold in luxury London department store Fortnum & Mason.

The 52-year-old English accountant, who won with two jars – orange and lime marmalade with red chillies and a lime marmalade with creme de cacao – says he was overwhelmed to be at Dalemain and see “just how far the marmalade family reaches across the world”.

“It’s just an absolute thrill,” he says.