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Dummy post: Ok. I'm trying a food in Oz that americans consider to be repulsive. Vegemite. I'm doing a pure sandwich. That is only butter and Vegemite. No tomato. Pure. So, some butter

Glad to hear you enjoyed the purist experience! Some other delivery methods to try next time:

  • Smash up some avocado and spread it over the top of the vegemite toast. They complement each other beautifully.
  • Slice cheese into strips, layer across the vegemite toast, then zap in the microwave 20sec so the cheese melts ever so slightly (or, even better, pop under the broiler in the oven for a few minutes). "Tiger toast", as mum used to make it.
  • A tablespoon or two in a beef stew to give it a nice savoury kick.
  • Eat it out of the jar with a spoon (no real culinary reason for this one, it's deviant behaviour honestly, turn the lights off if you don't want anyone to see you doing it)
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I had an Australian woman for a neighbor who made me a Vegemite sandwich years ago. I didn't love it or hate it. Just meh.

That said,do Aussies love Old Croc cheddar as much as I do?

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i have never heard of old croc cheddar. 

as for that vile black sludge, vegemite. horrific. would not use it for axle grease - when i have a moment, rushing out for chrissy shopping - will dig out a story about a mate at a spanish airport with the stuff. 

truly awful.

it was originally going to be called parkan. england had marmite. the marketing geniuses decided that if marmite, parkan. 

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A Vegemite “sandwich” is best with a decent layer of Vegemite… think the “wrong” way from above how to spread method…. And then a slice of cheese, maybe two even if it’s the shitty Kraft plastic stuff. 
 

Alternatively robs right way is the best way for Vegemite on toast, one piece of bread. 
 

Next time you make bolognese or some red suaefor pasta, take a ladle full out, and mix in like a 1/5 of a teaspoon of Vegemite into it. It’s hard to mix and if the sauce is hot it helps. But I reckon it’s the bomb. I say to take a ladle out so you can try it, befor you love it put a decent dollop into the whole pot 😁

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12 hours ago, ayedfy said:

Glad to hear you enjoyed the purist experience! Some other delivery methods to try next time:

  • Smash up some avocado and spread it over the top of the vegemite toast. They complement each other beautifully.
  • Slice cheese into strips, layer across the vegemite toast, then zap in the microwave 20sec so the cheese melts ever so slightly (or, even better, pop under the broiler in the oven for a few minutes). "Tiger toast", as mum used to make it.
  • A tablespoon or two in a beef stew to give it a nice savoury kick.
  • Eat it out of the jar with a spoon (no real culinary reason for this one, it's deviant behaviour honestly, turn the lights off if you don't want anyone to see you doing it)

Not going to lie, your one and three sound amazing.  Like straight Vegemite may not be the best, just like straight molasses or buckwheat honey, but mixed in something.  

I may have to experiment now.  

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3 hours ago, El Presidente said:

Love vegemite. You just have to do it right...and it is not being done right in that opening photo. :D

I actually got those amount from an Aussie recipe. He basically said for Americans to do the way you show, but everyone in the rest of the world can put on more spread. I saw that as a big middle finger to my not so delicate palate and added more. 

 

All I can say is seeing your image makes more sense, because it was definitely a savory bomb. Decerning any flavor is hard. Makes Worcestershire sauce seem like a baby. I dig it.

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Then there's the cracker snack option. White Salada crackers Man Size X 2. Butter both generously then spread Vegemite on both. Squeeze together so butter and Vegemite worm up through holes in the crackers. Enjoy heartily. Kraft cheese slice can be added for a more substantial meal. Variations can include vintage cheddar thinly sliced. Cheers, it puts a rose in every cheek. Ha ha!

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it really is toxic muck. one of those things that people of a certain nationality feel obliged to support because it is perceived to be part of the country's DNA - like poms whinging, laplanders making quits and socks, the dutch eating sour herring and raw onions, the icelanders eating fermented shark, kiwis molesting sheep. they may not like it (well, i'll leave aside the kiwis) but they feel obliged to do it. for some unfathomable reason, aussies feel obliged to consume vegemite. my old man would stir a spoonful into a mug of boiling water after a winter fishing trip. nearly put me off fishing.

a good mate, with whom i travel on occasion - he is about ten years older than me and his wife does not like travelling, and he does not like travelling with his wife because she is not punctual, but was in the wine industry so we have a great time visiting wineries and restaurants - loves it. does not leave home without it. he will be up in the pointy end and still bring out the vegemite tube. spare me.

i wrote this years ago after the exploits on one of our trips - can't even recall where it was published. he is very pompous but this was a highlight. the first part was a visit to Egon Muller, a famous German winery. then the vegemite incident. and then even a cigar-related incident. 

 

 

Travels with the Colonel.


 

Caught up with XXXX in Paris to head across to the Mosel. Needless to say, at least to those who know him, he would be doing the driving and navigating. After forgetting what side of the road he was supposed to be on about 18 times, and over-correcting about 18 times, we finally come to a large flowing body of water. “That would be the River Something”, he proudly announces. Marco Polo couldn't have put it better.


 

We finally reach the winery of Egon Muller at the appointed time (or thereabouts). Egon has a group of 20-something somms from all over Europe with him and they are about to climb one of the world's steepest vineyards, Wiltinger, and drink some 20-year-old Auslese at the summit. Would we be interested?


 

Absolutely”, declares XXXX, adding that he'd show these young whippersnappers a thing or two (yes, he does talk like that). Off we set. What seemed a very long time later, we emerge from the vines at a ledge running along the top – so we thought. Sadly, this ledge is about a ¼ of the way up. Sir Edmund XXXX throws in the towel. All too much. 'Don't have anything to prove to these young whippersnappers', most of whom are now little more than dots on far distant slopes.


 

I tell him I'll see him later. No, he demands, you have to help me down. Some days just keep giving.


 

But not here. Too steep.”

Where isn’t?”

We'll find somewhere.”

We don't.


 

So we set off down a slope that would embarrass a mountain goat. I keep seeing newspaper reports declaring that one of Germany's prized vineyards was today destroyed by two fat Aussies avalanching down it. Meanwhile, Egon has skipped back down the slopes to assist. We finally get back to earth. Egon suggests that perhaps we'd like to drive up (seriously? We could have done that in the first place?). So we head around and up the backroads.


 

By the time we get there, the somms are all guzzling Auslese. Inevitably, we cop merry hell from them (deservedly so). Australia's good name took a fearful beating that afternoon. While I am running around trying to convince them all that XXXX is actually a Kiwi and nothing to do with us, he takes a turn for the worse. Slumps against a vineyard wall. Everyone rushes over to assist (some people will do anything to be the centre of attention). He has, in truth, gone whiter than a KKK AGM and really does not look good. He can't speak (silver lining?). We carry him across to the car and lie him down. Everyone is trying to work out if we can get an ambulance up to the summit or where the nearest hospital is (well, perhaps not everyone. I’m wondering if his wife knows he brought a suitcase of '99 Burgundies with him and if she'd notice if they went missing).


 

We manage to drive him back down, along the narrowest sliver of dirt-track you have ever seen, and via a traffic pile-up, as the road back to the winery is one lane and apparently some Germans have not been told how important XXXX is and that we therefore have an automatic right of way.


 

We get back to the winery, give him a reviving drink and within minutes he is arguing, complaining, directing everyone around, abusing the GPS machine because places are not where he believes they should be and generally giving a critique of the shortcomings of everyone else on the road – in other words, back to his old self.


 

In his defence, it was extremely steep and he is old, fat and unfit.


 

We have put down his unexpected grumpiness to the fact that he forgot his Vegemite and as anyone who witnessed 'the Madrid incident' knows, XXXX and that black slime are not easily parted.


 

For those not in the northern hemisphere that fateful day, our hero arrived at the Madrid airport for an internal flight, dressed in his prize blue pork pie hat (who travels with a different hat for each day of the week?). He had with him, in his hand luggage, a tube of Vegemite. The unsuspecting woman at Spanish Customs advised him that she was confiscating it (under the 'no paste' rule – or possibly the 'good taste' rule). She was advised, in return, that she was not. Chaos followed and within minutes, a crowd of, without exaggeration, 400 bemused onlookers had gathered to witness the battle.


 

Our hero first regaled the poor woman with tales of the glories of the slime and hence why he should be allowed to take it with him – she had absolutely no idea what it was or what it could be used for but she was not buying this myth that anyone would be so insane as to actually try eating it. When that didn't work, XXXX tried identifying the shortcomings of Spanish Customs. That worked about as well as you'd expect. He then moved on to his personal thoughts on Spain itself. As far as I could work out, Spain's greatest crime was... not being France.


 

By now, the crowd was getting restless and offering opinions – I have no idea if they were for or against our intrepid hero but I could take a wild guess. I was calling for a strip search but no one was listening to me.


 

Eventually, telling them that this wasn't over, XXXX abandoned his slime (to be honest, it pretty much was all over by then). For the next hour in the airport, I watched little children duck behind the legs of adults to hide when they saw him coming and I am convinced that Spanish parents now put the fear of God into their kids by telling them tales of how the black slime man in the weird hat will come for them in the night if they don't behave.


 

On a more serious note, back in the Mosel, Egon wanted to do a comparison of one of his wines – 2011 Schartzhofberger Spatlese – under screwcap and cork. No prizes for guessing which looked absolutely scintillating and which looked very reserved, and a touch dull. One or two of the somms took their heads out of their bottoms long enough to declare that this meant the wine under cork was much more profound.


 

But the highlight of the day came, when in mid tasting (we were outdoors), Egon fired up a big cigar. Imagine what the need-a-cause, rent-a-mouth crowd would say about anyone doing that back home.


 

We have a few more wineries to visit in the Mosel but fortunately the Colonel assures me he has given up alpine ascents.


 

Never dull.


 

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58 minutes ago, Ken Gargett said:

it really is toxic muck. one of those things that people of a certain nationality feel obliged to support because it is perceived to be part of the country's DNA - like poms whinging, 

Ken, admit that you are the Grinch. But at minimum a party pooper.... yes.

 

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27 minutes ago, BoliDan said:

Ken, admit that you are the Grinch. But at minimum a party pooper.... yes.

 

The grinch? The grinch is Gandhi in comparison.

Today ken abused one of the kindest ladies i know at a plant nursery I recommended. 296 5 star reviews.....and then came Ken.

"He can't help it your honour "🙄

 

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