We’re almost packed for Korea. We’ve remembered to pack the Marmite for Emily.
My friend Penny’s packed and left for France, where she’s staying at Maison Grillou with Kalba, happily exiled from England. She’s remembered to pack the Marmite too. Two jars – large.
What is it about us Brits? We can live abroad for years and years, and learn to do without Proper Tea (very easy for me, that one), baked beans on toast (even easier), and Bird’s custard powder (easier still). But deprive us of our Marmite, and we go into a steady decline. It’s not as if we all like it. Marmite themselves never try to convert anyone in their advertising. They know full well we either love it or loathe it, and there’s no point whatsoever in trying to persuade a Marmite-hater to give it another go.
What is clear though is that you do have to be British to love it. I’ve never spoken to anyone born outside the UK who could understand our love for this peculiar, salty yeast extract, a by-product of the brewing industry.
What’s your take on it? Incredibly, there’s even a board game to help you decide. I don’t need to play. I love it.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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