One food i’ve been craving so much since leaving England is the weird and wonderful Marmite. A spreadable substance made from beer brewers yeast that’s used to ferment sugars into alcohol.
Up until 1680 brewers would simply dispose of the sticky substance believing its potent taste was just to strong and yucky to be used for anything else.
When German Scientist, Liebig discovered that brewers yeast cells could be concentrated, bottled and eaten, the birth of Marmite was on the horizon.
As a child i couldn’t even smell it and the taste of just a tiny speckle on my finger was enough to make me feel sick and want to heave.
My mother was an addict, spreading it on toast for breakfast or with cheese on a sandwich, i could never understand how it was possible to enjoy something so disgusting?
However one day a few years ago i was cleaning out the food cupboards in my house preparing for a new kitchen to be fitted. I stumbled across an old jar of Marmite that my mother had purchased many years ago, it brought back some wonderful memories of her cooking in the kitchen, her innocent laugh at my screwed up face as i frowned with each bite she took of her toast smothered with an inch deep of the devilish delight.
Throwing the jar in the bin i didn’t notice i had some Marmite stuck to my fingers. Whilst chewing a finger and deciding what cupboard to attack next my mouth was obliterated with its extremely powerful presence.
From that moment i was hooked, i couldn’t understand why, i made myself believe it was my mother inside me craving for her Marmite, i frantically attacked my bread bin and made myself a hearty sandwich with two pieces of ‘warbys’ bread and a blob of spread and ‘bobs ya uncle’.
During my stay in Costa Rica i met a couchsurfer who’s mother had brought a jar over from England. Everyday i would join him for a breakfast of Chedder Cheese and Marmite on toast, amazing.
Since then i’ve been trying to get my hands on a jar, friends have recently sent boxes to me from England yet the unreliable postal services of Latin America seen to have no clue as to the whereabouts of my missing boxes. i think someone in customs has the same addiction as me, ‘Get ya sticky hands of my beer jelly ya cheeky bugger’.
Recently i met couchsurfer Alain Sato online via the cs website.
Originally from Brazil but now living in London he receives hundreds of hosts every year. To help cure me of my Marmite fix, he has kindly offered to buy me a jar and will give it to the next surfer who crashes his house who will be heading to Brazil in the near future, the idea being that when i arrive to Brazil i can pick it up.
All this for a jar of beer scrapings!
Hell yer!
They say ‘you either love or hate it’
Imagine the day when you can buy your favorite beer flavored Marmite?
I wonder if its injectable? Hmmm!
