Noooooo! I’d nearly run out and we can’t be having that. So Marmite was on my shopping list last week. I bought the most generous jar available as those poxy little ones don’t last five minutes in this house. That’s even though both my boys view the stuff as devil spawn.
I’m flummoxed by their disgust but pretty grateful that I don’t have to share. What’s there not to love about a salty something on buttered toast or a bagel? Funnily enough I don’t pile it on thick. My spreading action is just a gesture. A little goes a long way.
I love the fact that there is this sculptural homage to Marmite in Burton on Trent, the town where it’s made. If you click on the link below the photo you’ll find out some facts about my favourite savoury spread. I was particularly taken by the idea that the blokes who I work with were using it as a constituent of illicitly made hooch. Allegedly the Dartmoor lot were making a brew called Marmite Mule. What tinkers! Their inventiveness often amazes me. If they’d put their skills of invention to better use outside they might not be behind bars.