of Marmite
Tonight was a momentous occasion. Tonight I introduced my grandparents to Marmite.
You know. Marmite. That salty, smoky ambrosian spread with a bibbity-bobbity-boo effect on children in Commonwealth countries who smear it on buttered toast, turning them into muscley rugby players with awesome accents.
In spite of the convincing reasons I’ve just mentioned, Marmite has always provoked a violent love/hate response in the multitudes I’ve tried to convert. The haters are typically those so stuck in the clutches of Nutella addiction that they’re unable to open their minds to a chocolate-coloured spread with a yeasty, savoury flavour.
But I’m a lover. I love it so much that my maid of honor brought a large jar of it all the way from New Zealand to my wedding, and tucked it in my honeymoon getaway goodie bag next to the travel-sized bottle of Baileys and other…things.
Why love it? It’s an epic source of iron, folic acid, and other members of the vitamin B family. A teaspoonful adds a secret richness and je ne sais quoi to soups, sandwiches, and anything in need of a darker base flavour. Probably because it tastes as though a pint of Guinness was condensed down into one potent spoonful of black goodness. Each morning, it transports me from my breakfast table to a dodgy pub booth.
Once upon a time, I lived in a in ramshackle Victorian house with an odd bunch of people who were as excited for their turn to cook dinner as they were to avoid cleaning up the communal kitchen afterwards. That night it was my turn, and I spent the afternoon brewing a dark, sticky stew whose main ingredients were a clutch of sausages, several bottles of stout, a few potatoes, and a heaping spoon of Marmite.
It was heavy stuff, this stew. Hair-on-your-chest kind of stuff. It made some of my conservative teetotaler housemates very nervous, and me very proud to have unnerved them.
Think of the stew as something to work up to. If you’re new to Marmite, I suggest that you start gently by smearing a very thin layer on buttered whole-grain toast with a slice of cheese overtop. Chances are you’ll be seduced into the cult following and end up storing your embroidery floss in a Marmite cake box, like me.
So tell me — are you a lover or a hater?
{Retro print and cake tin images from Marmite}
Definitely a lover!
Hater, Valerie :) But you make a good case, and I shouldn’t be sorry to try it again.
Even if you like your accent just fine and don’t want to grow up to be a rugby player, I totally urge you to try it again. (:
A Lover for sure. This post was the BEST! Marmite was a staple at boarding school and it has been since then that I have realized the violent reactions it causes in others. Marmite on toast it was or marmite on toast for high tea. Thank you for great memories. The stew does sound a little much I’ll say….!
What fun that you grew up with it too! (:
I don’t think I’ve ever tasted it, but I just wanted to say that I loved the paragraph about the unnerved housemates :)
I would like to inform you that the entirety of New Zealand is currently in mourning. Something dreadful happened to the Marmite factory in Christchurch (probably an earthquake, but i haven’t actually looked into the facts), leaving their production line stopped for an indefinite period while they try to fix it. This has resulted in posters all over new zealand at bus stops like the one i’m going to post on your wall on facebook (cos i’m too dumb to figure out how to put it on here). End of a long story – this is why i am not bringing you another tub of marmite – purely because there actually truly is NO marmite in the supermarkets. There is a blackmarket (on nz version of ebay) where people are selling off their half eaten jars for exorbitant prices. anyways. just thought you’d like the newsflash
This is TERRIBLE! I’m tempted to donate my jar to them.
I’ve never tried this, but it looks yummy!
Hater. I’ve tried it several times. It’s akin to durian; I respect those who have gone through the process of learning to love it, but I can’t bring myself to go through the torture.
Chels, hi! Nice analogy, but it’s totally not akin to durian. (;
A lover, but usually only with cheese and just a tad of it is enough :) my mom always ate it back in the days.
Definitely just a mespuntje. (:
I would put myself firmly in the “yet to be convinced” camp. I could be persuaded to like it, but it hasn’t happened yet! My sister loves it, though, and sometimes I think she deserves to live in England much more than I do, for loving things like Branston Pickle.
One word for you dear: Vegemite!
Oh, I agree! Nothing but love.
The real deal is Vegemite! Sorry but it is soooo much better. Nothing like piece of toast with butter, Vegemite, cheese and tomato….mmmm…salivating…
*like*
I did try it, I really did! Traveling last year in New Zealand and Australia, the stuff is all over the place, and you are guaranteed to find it in every hostel under the “free food” section. Maybe I didn’t give it a fair enough chance, or maybe I just didn’t have it on whole grain toast, but unfortunately, I left those lovely countries not in love with Marmite. Maybe next time.
A+ for effort, at least! (:
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