“VEGEMITE! ONLY FIVE BUCKS A JAR!” shouts a rather short man standing at the local morning market.
I turn to my friend and say, “Would you like some Vegemite?”
My friend throws me a disgusted look “No,” he said, “I like Marmite.”
I shrug and then smile.
After a couple of minutes of silence I say, “Hang on a minute aren’t you an Aussie?”
“Yeah I am, but Vegemite tastes like eating a dead, cold, rotten piece of fish.”
I shiver at the thought of eating rotten fish then I say, “All right then, let’s go get some Marmite instead.”
Tonight I am going to my friends house, which I am NOT excited about. I like my friend, but I find his parents weird, some of the things in their garden and house are very strange. Their garden is filled with gnomes and they have alarms on every door so they know when someone comes into the room. So when my dad drops me off there is an ear splitting noise.
After my dad leaves, my friend’s parents make us some toast and snacks.
“ Do you want the Vegemite on your toast?” they asked.
“NO!” he said, “ I like Marmite.”
My friend sits down for his lunch, he starts to eat his sandwich. He opens it up to see what spreading is in it.
“YAY! Marmite,” he shouts.
“Ewwwww Marmite is disgusting,” I say, “you should have Vegemite.”
“No,” he said, “I like Marmite.”
“Well,” I say, “You might like Marmite but it doesn’t mean it’s better. Which it’s not.”
My friend overreacts and throws a punch at me.
“IT IS!” he shouts
I start to giggle as he runs away.
Then the weird kid comes in and he says.
“I don’t know if you agree but I like jam.”
“Hey mate, want a Vegemite sandwich?”
“No,” he said, “ I like Marmite.”
As an Australian, I simply couldn’t believe that somebody could resist a sandwich slathered with butter and thick, black Vegemite.
I went to the pantry and located the two jars, one Vegemite, the other Marmite. As I untwisted the Marmite lid, its smell quickly leapt out of the jar and punched me in the nose like a prize fighter! It smelled salty and a bit like soy sauce.
‘A soy sauce sandwich?’ I thought. ‘Who would eat such a thing?’
Now for the Vegemite.
Sniff sniff, ‘Oh yeah!’
In New Zealand, there is often conflict at the breakfast table about which of the savoury spreads tastes best. Is it Vegemite, or Marmite?
The original spread Marmite, was made in England, and as people moved to Australia and New Zealand, so did the spread. They both contain Vitamin B, and can be used in a number of ways. To quote the blog ‘Culture Trip’;
“…they’re both made of beer brewers’ yeast extract, they both have a dark black colour, they both come in iconic glass jars with a yellow lid and red logo, and they both have an intensely salty flavour that shocks first-time tasters who haven’t grown up on the stuff…”
In New Zealand, the delicious stuff comes in a jar with a distinctive red lid, and a label inviting one to: ‘GO AHEAD – DIG IN!’
When discussing this in our class this week, the votes for both are pretty even, but it is noticeable that most people are absolutely pro one or the other and they would NEVER entertain letting anything but their favourite, touch their tongue for that salty hit!
A couple of pieces of deliciousness are – cheeseymite scrolls, chip sarnies (sandwiches with bread, butter, Veg or Mar and potato crisps), or just simple toast with your favourite. Yum!
How about sharing which is your favourite and why – also make sure to look out for our 100 Word Challenge pieces this week which are all about Marmite!
The great Marmite and Vegemite argument
It was seven o’clock in the morning and I was getting ready to eat my breakfast.
Every day I have the real kiwi favourite of Marmite on toast.
!PoP! The bread jumped out of the toaster, I grabbed the butter knife and a jar of Marmite.
!Ring,Ring! My doorbell rang. I opened the door, it was my friend Jeff
“Come in,” I said. He entered and the first thing he noticed was the red jar on the bench.
Jeff said, “Do you like Vegemite?” He knew what my answer will be.
“No,” I said, “I like Marmite.”
Every year for Christmas, my family uses decorations from the previous years, but this year we got brand new decorations.
My Mum and I like to go with the traditional colours, green, red and white.
The lush, pine tree fills the corner of the room. We have Christmas carols, as we dance around the tree lopping the twinkling lights around the pointy branches.
“One thing is missing” I say to mum. I reach down into the box, pull out a big sparkly star. I hand it to mum and she reaches up and puts it on.
Wow it looks wonderful.
“Finally,” I exclaimed as my tummy starts to rumble as if it was a gigantic hippo burping, “FOOD, CURRY!”
As I heap the incredibly spicy vindaloo into my mouth like there’s no tomorrow, it hits me.
“AH!” I scream as I start to chug the most refreshing, delicious, cold milk I have ever tried. Although, never has my food or drink ever missed my mouth so much in my life.
“Oh no,” I explain worriedly as my belly turns loose and my bum starts to turn as red as a blood moon from that scrumptious, yet red hot Indian CURRY!
Blood patches left in fields, where fallen soldiers last rest. New Zealand joined the Great War on October 16th, 1914, until it ended on the 11th hour, 11th day, 11th month, of 1918. Many sons and fathers of New Zealanders lost their lives in that war.
Many came home with blood RED bandages around their heads, arms, torsos and legs, with others still in shock from watching their comrades.
Those who survived the war, suffer from the trauma of being badly wounded, and hearing the sound of guns.
In present day, we will always remember them by the poppy fields.
It’s a Thursday evening and our class takes a brisk walk over the pedestrian crossing to the school gym.
Our over-energetic head of sports’ teacher sits us down and rapidly runs through the instructions.
After getting divided into two even teams and having all placed our jewellery on the sideline bench, we lay ourselves on the solid wooden floor… SLAM! Everywhere I look I see fluorescent red dodge balls flying around. The sound of clamouring voices fills my ears as the students cheer for their teams. The smell of sweat fills my nose as I search around for my belongings.