Vegemite

It’s been well oven an hour since I consumed my first Vegemite covered toast…and I can still taste it…it’s lingering on my tongue, a slowly dissolving film of gross.

The Vegemite was the product that started it all. What was initially a “hey, let me send you Vegemite so you can try it” objective became an epic food adventure. Thank God, because if this was the only product I even tried from Australia, I might have a terrible idea of the place.

I am still perplexed by the condiment packaged in a bright yellow tube. I don’t even know what really made me want to try this product—there is absolutely no selling point that would entice me to eat it. “Concentrated yeast extract” was the printed description below the Vegemite label. “One of the world’s richest known sources of vitamin B!” the tube boasted. “No artificial colours or flavours” read the back—though maybe they should have considered adding something to make it a bit more palatable.

Work Wife was quite adamant I sample this staple of Australia at work, sharing with her not only my first exposure but also the food. She brought the bread and butter, and Australia provided the Vegemite. As instructed by my Australian supplier, I was to toast bread, apply copious amounts of butter, and top it off with a thin layer of Vegemite.

To the kitchen I went, preparing the buttered bread and hoping no one asked any questions. Quickly I returned to my desk and broke open the Vegemite tube. It was very much like opening a tube of toothpaste, except the contents looked a lot less like minty freshness and a lot more like crap. I held the open end to my nose and reluctantly inhaled. I expected to be slapped in the face by the odor like a disobedient housewife, but instead only subtle hints of dry dog food filled my nostrils. Maybe this won’t be too bad…

     

I turned the tube to my toast and gently squeezed out a small glob. It was a dark brown and thick, and by looking at it one might think it was Nutella I was applying to the bread. Deceptive, Vegemite I thought as I smeared it across the crannies of the toast.

Finally, it was ready for consumption. I stared at the snack. It stared back. Slowly I lifted it to my mouth; as if instinctual, I curled my lips away from my teeth as to have as little of the Vegemite touch me as possible…then I bit in.

The flavor was subtle. It was a little salty, yes, but mostly I tasted butter and bread . “I think I need a more concentrated sampling” I declared to Work Wife as I grabbed the tube of Vegemite. I squeezed out another blob atop the toast and sunk my teeth in again.

This is where things went horribly, horribly wrong.

My face warped into positions I didn’t know it was capable of doing. My tongue retracted far into my throat like a groundhog retreating to its hole, threatened by a predator--but it wasn’t going to be able to escape this attack. The flavor of Vegemite flooded every taste bud yet somehow I was able to control my natural instinct to spit.

I swallowed the gooey disaster. I analyzed its flavor.

“Oh, you’ll hate that. It tastes like bouillon cubes.” My Mother’s Vegemite warning played over in my head as I tried to decide what kind of salty this was. No, it wasn’t quite like bouillon cubes. Someone else had described it to me as similar to Ramen Noodle flavor packs, but it wasn’t like that either.

It was just salt.

Simple table salt in its most recognizable form…mixed with yeast. And it was thick and sticky and I couldn’t, and still can’t, fathom why this condiment can be found in the vast majority of pantries across Australia.

As for me, the Vegemite will likely go into my pantry, too. And there it will sit.