The Candied Orange Slices Recipe

You guys. I’m sitting here at 11 PM with sticky fingers and a kitchen that looks like a sugar bomb went off, but I had to share this with you while it’s fresh in my mind because OH MY GOODNESS.

So last Sunday morning – you know, the kind where everyone’s supposed to be getting ready for church but instead the 12-year-old can’t find matching socks and the 8-year-old is having a meltdown about her hair – I decided it would be the PERFECT time to make candied orange slices for the first time. Because apparently I enjoy chaos?

Here’s what happened: I’d been seeing these gorgeous candied orange photos all over Pinterest (guilty as charged), and my mother-in-law mentioned she used to make them when my husband was little. Classic Sunday morning overly-ambitious-mom move, right? But honestly? Best impulsive decision I’ve made in months.

How I Fell Down This Rabbit Hole

Two weeks ago, my older one came home from school absolutely raving about the “fancy orange cookies” her friend’s mom packed for lunch. Turns out, they were just regular sugar cookies with candied orange pieces mixed in. But she was OBSESSED. Like, asking-me-every-single-day obsessed.

I tried buying those expensive candied orange pieces from the fancy kitchen store (twenty-three dollars for a tiny jar – I know, I KNOW), but they were basically candy-coated disappointment. Too sweet, weird texture, and honestly? They tasted like they’d been sitting on a shelf since 2019.

That’s when I remembered my husband mentioning his mom’s candied oranges, so I called her up. Bless that woman – she walked me through her method over FaceTime while I frantically scribbled notes on the back of a grocery receipt.

The Recipe

What You’ll Need:

• 2 large navel oranges (seriously, don’t cheap out here – I learned this the hard way)
• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 1 cup water
• Extra sugar for rolling (about 1/2 cup)

The Process:

First things first – slice those oranges into 1/4-inch rounds. I use my mandoline slicer for this now (after attempt number three when I realized my knife skills were creating wonky, uneven slices that cooked at different rates). If you don’t have a mandoline, just go slow with a sharp knife. The kids were fascinated watching me do this part – until they got bored and wandered off to fight over the remote.

Here’s where I messed up the first time: I didn’t remove the seeds. Sounds obvious now, but I was rushing and figured “eh, how bad could it be?” Answer: pretty bad. Nothing ruins the elegant vibe like biting into a bitter orange seed. Trust me on this one.

Pop those slices into a large pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil and let them cook for about 10-15 minutes until they’re tender but not falling apart. This is crucial – undercook them and they’ll be tough, overcook them and you’ll have orange mush.

Drain the oranges (save that water if you want to make orange tea later – my younger one discovered this by accident and now it’s her new thing).

In the same pot, combine your sugar and fresh water. Bring it to a boil, then add the orange slices back in. This is where the magic happens, people. Turn the heat down to medium-low and let them simmer for about 45 minutes to an hour. You want that syrup to get thick and the oranges to look glossy and translucent.

The Moment of Truth (And Near Disaster)

About halfway through the simmering process, I got distracted by the kids fighting over who got to lick the mixing bowl from yesterday’s brownies (don’t judge – priorities). When I came back, the syrup was starting to caramelize. Not gonna lie, I panicked for a hot second because I thought I’d ruined everything.

But you know what? It was actually BETTER. That slight caramelization gave the oranges this incredible depth of flavor that the Pinterest photos definitely didn’t capture. Sometimes happy accidents are the best accidents.

Pro tip I learned from that near-miss: set a timer for every 15 minutes and give them a gentle stir. They can go from perfect to burnt surprisingly quickly.

The Final Touch

Once your oranges look like beautiful amber jewels floating in thick syrup, it’s time to get them out. I use tongs for this – learned that lesson when I tried using a slotted spoon and ended up fishing orange slices out of the sink.

Place them on a wire rack with parchment paper underneath (because that syrup will drip EVERYWHERE). Let them sit for about 10 minutes, then roll them in granulated sugar. This part is actually kind of therapeutic. And sticky. Very, very sticky.

Family Verdict

My older one is in HEAVEN. She’s been sneaking pieces when she thinks I’m not looking (I always see you, kid). My younger one was skeptical at first because “it’s fruit, Mom,” but now he asks if he can have “orange candy” in his lunch box.

My husband? He got all nostalgic and called his mom to tell her about it. Apparently mine taste “even better than Grandma’s,” which, let’s be honest, is probably just because he’s viewing childhood memories through rose-colored glasses. But I’ll take the compliment.

Real Talk: The Shortcuts

Look, I’m not going to pretend I make these from scratch every single time. When life gets crazy (which is… always?), I’ve learned a few tricks:

• You can make a double batch and store them in an airtight container for up to two weeks. They get a little less chewy, but honestly? Still delicious.
• If you’re really pressed for time, you can skip the final sugar rolling. They’ll be a bit stickier, but the flavor is still there.
• I’ve started making these on Sunday afternoons when the kids are having “quiet time” (aka iPad time while I pretend I’m being productive).

The best part? These make your house smell absolutely incredible. Like Christmas morning and a fancy bakery had a beautiful, citrusy baby.

Try them. Seriously. And when you do, tag me on Instagram because I want to see your sticky fingers and sugar-dusted countertops. We’re all in this beautiful, messy cooking journey together.