It all started over on I'm Mad and I Eat. Cookiecrumb (an American type lady) got very excited by a pot of Marmite, even going as far as smothering a chicken in the stuff and roasting it up, to good effect it would appear. Actually, it may have started on Becks and Posh (an English type lady in America) some time ago, when that Guinness Marmite came out. See, it got me thinking about Marmite, firstly at what a very unlikely substance it is and secondly, at the great and proud shared history we all have with it.
I came to Marmite late in life, it wasn't something you found in the average Spanish household, it was alien English stuff in the supermarket, something your mates at primary school had smothered down their ties, mixed with egg yolk usually. It was dark and evil smelling and my Mother certainly would have had no truck with it. I came to it through a very early girlfriend, already far enough into adulthood to have a girlfriend you have breakfast with, mind. I was confronted with two jars at the breakfast table, one of Bovril, which my young lady friend smothered on her toast and one of Marmite whilst her mother thinly (yes, it was a pretty liberal type household, in that nice British we won't talk about the fact that this 'orrible oik probably just had sex with our daughter) scrapped onto hers. I tried them both and have to say the Bovril won out, I mean it would, it was beefy!
Over the years I have learnt to love the stuff, the girlfriend can't abide it so we are a pretty average household in that regard. There's a certain melancholy to it, though. A sadness at all the Marmite soldiers I didn't get to dip in my egg yolk and let it liberally drip down my school tie.
I came to Marmite late in life, it wasn't something you found in the average Spanish household, it was alien English stuff in the supermarket, something your mates at primary school had smothered down their ties, mixed with egg yolk usually. It was dark and evil smelling and my Mother certainly would have had no truck with it. I came to it through a very early girlfriend, already far enough into adulthood to have a girlfriend you have breakfast with, mind. I was confronted with two jars at the breakfast table, one of Bovril, which my young lady friend smothered on her toast and one of Marmite whilst her mother thinly (yes, it was a pretty liberal type household, in that nice British we won't talk about the fact that this 'orrible oik probably just had sex with our daughter) scrapped onto hers. I tried them both and have to say the Bovril won out, I mean it would, it was beefy!
Over the years I have learnt to love the stuff, the girlfriend can't abide it so we are a pretty average household in that regard. There's a certain melancholy to it, though. A sadness at all the Marmite soldiers I didn't get to dip in my egg yolk and let it liberally drip down my school tie.
5 comments:
Bovril won out because it was beefy or because you were siding with the girl you just had sex with over the m-i-l?!
Better late than never for both you and Cookiecrumb - but that doesn't mean you can have sex with each other now, ok?! (It's CC's anniersary today and she has been married 26 almost marmite-free years to another Man.)
Whoa. Hold on a minute. I still want to have sex with Sam and Monkey Gland.
It's just that I don't think Cranky wants me to.
Well. So.
Hmm.
Oops.
Yay, Marmite.
(Kaff, kaff.)
ROFL at Cookiecrumb's response. Perhaps because I can see her point of view. If I had to pick two partners in crime from the blog world they would be easily be Sam and Monkey Gland. If I could add a third? Cookiecrumb.
I was brought up on Marmite and still slap it on my toast to this day, which is pretty weird considering I have a really low tolerance to salt in my food. I've never cooked with it in any sense though, maybe that's something I should explore.
Great story btw! Is it a bad thing that I'm too young to have memories like yours? Or more to the point is it a good thing that I'm young enough that they're not yet memories?
I´m still shuddering from the first time I tried Marmite. I thought it had to be spread like honey or jam, so I laid it on pretty thick, and ugh.
I quite like it now, once every other year or so, mostly for the graphics. Understand your nostalgia totally, though, because I came to oil on toast very late.
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