Marmite, I think I like you !


A revelation occurred yesterday in my house in that I realised I liked Marmite. So what ? Well Marmite was always supposed to have two types of followers the lovers and the haters, their advertising campaigns encouraged this even more.

I was a hater, I hated the smell, the look, the texture, it’s dark brown colour and just about everything that Marmite was , I imagined it also tasted bad but I could never bring myself to try it. Mrs Skaggy my long-suffering wife was firmly in the Marmite lover’s camp so every time I opened the cupboard a jar of satan’s spread would leer at me as I imagined it contaminating the nearby foodstuffs with its yeasty radiation. But things soon went from bad to worse with the arrival of my daughter when she developed a taste for Marmite as well ! So I found myself making Marmite on toast or in the supermarket having her yell ” Marmite daddy ” as we passed it in an aisle as if she didn’t want me to miss out on seeing her best friend.

Then one fateful day it happened. After giving my daughter some Marmite on toast my thoughts turned to my own tea as I realised how hungry I was and that the depth of my hunger was matched only by the depth of emptiness in the cupboard and the fridge freezer. I began to hunt down a take away menu while mentally debating the merits of fish and chips vs. pizza.

I checked on my daughter and whisked the remains of the toast away and gave her some fruit before settling on pizza and placing my order.

Disaster.

The order was Ok but they were busy it would be at least an hour, what could I do till then? I looked at the remains of my daughter’s Marmite on toast took a deep breath and scoffed the lot. To my surprise I didn’t retch, choke or even die I just ate it. To my surprise it tasted OK, I checked the jar yep it was Marmite . Hmmm what was going on I tried to wake up but realised I was awake this was no nightmare, there was no Freddy Kruger like hand holding the Marmite jar or advancing on me blades dripping with the brown spready stuff.

It was a revelation in that I sort of didn’t mind the taste of Marmite. I didn’t fall head over heels in love with the stuff and there were no choirs of Marmite angels with yeasty halos singing the hallelujah chorus but something had changed.

Had my life long hatred of this now seemingly innocent food stuff been a life long obsession over nothing ? Was Marmite my elusuive white whale ?

Mrs Skaggy reckons it’s because Marmite is a by-product of the brewing industry, I wonder if she has a point ?

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