Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
The first time I came to Australia, an innocent little Brit abroad, absolutely everyone said I should try Vegemite. Before they even said, “What’s your name?” Or “Why are you here?” Or “How do you like Australia?” No – the very first thing people talked about was Vegemite.
(All the other questions came later … I particularly warmed to the “How do you like Australia?” which was asked within days of me arriving. “It’s lovely,” I’d say, not having a clue as to whether I thought it was lovely or not.)
Also, “the V question”, as I came to call it, seemed more than a bit odd. I know that a nation is built on all sorts of things, but a savoury spread, the colour of tar, the consistency of boot polish, the smell of … of … well, exactly how would you describe it?
What I had forgotten is that I’d met the English version of this when I was a child – Marmite. I’d also forgotten that as a toddler, one mouthful of the “lovely lovely Marmite soldier” as my mother described it, aeroplane-ing a finger of toast into my mouth, had made me projectile vomit so impressively that there are still marks on my parents’ kitchen wall.
As time went on, I learnt to divide people into two distinct groups – those that loved Vegemite and those who hated it. And it’s not that I despised the Vegemite lovers. It’s more that I tended to gravitate towards those that weren’t. We bonded over this – oh, and red wine. Lots of red wine. It was quite a little club.
But that didn’t solve the question of why on earth Vegemite was so beloved? I began to research it. It became my specialist subject, ie I now know that:
· It was invented in 1923 as a “delicious nourishing spread”. The name came from a competition where the winner won £50.
· Approximately 80 per cent of households across Australia have Vegemite in their pantries, with more than 22 million jars of the stuff manufactured every year.
· The Vegemite website lists over 50 different recipes that include the stuff, including such unlikely treats as Vegemite brownies, Vegemite hot cross buns and even Vegemite icy poles.
· Australians spread about 1.2 billion serves of Vegemite on toast, bread or biscuits every year. If this was all placed end to end, it would go around the world three times.
· It’s certified kosher, halal and gluten free.
· Oh – and it’s got almost zero kilojoules.
Who could resist it?
The recipe is a closely guarded secret (aren’t they all?) but it’s basically brewer’s yeast blended with ingredients like celery, onion, salt, and a few “secret ingredients”.
Aha. Brewer’s yeast. This totally explains the Aussie passion for the stuff. Aussies fill the gaps in their day when they aren’t drinking some shockingly cold beer in tiny glasses, with consuming a non-alcoholic residue. It’s kind of a form of recycling, when you come to think of it.
The Japanese have a saying: 蓼食う虫も好き好き. Which loosely translates as “There are even bugs that eat knotweed” ie “there’s no accounting for taste”. And indeed, Vegemite does look like the kind of thing you’d smear over a petri dish to see what microbes might bloom and blossom on its surface.
It turned out I did like Australia. A lot. Years passed. But minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day I was inundated with people asking what I thought of this national delicacy. I managed to bluff my way through, mumbling and stuttering. But I knew that eventually I would have to try the stuff.
There were two ways this could go. I could taste the brown goo, and find that my tastebuds had matured, that my time in the country had made me Australian enough to rejoice in its savoury loveliness. Or I could leave my mark on someone else’s kitchen wall.
I was at a stereotypical, unassuming Aussie barbecue when I discovered which it was going to be. Someone handed me a Vegemite sandwich and everyone stood around chanting “go, go, go, go, go”.
You know what the song says? Well I proved it. (With apologies for the slightly altered lyrics.)
“I live in a land down under
Where women eat Vegemite and chunder.”
The marks are on the garden fence to this day.