Only got to smell the stuff and I start voting Conservative.The genuine Stephen Fry, A Bit of Fry and Laurie**SF:** Well, you've done your homework with admirable thoroughness, and I must say I'm rather touched by the archaeological precision with which you've excavated that particular quotation from the Fry and Laurie archives. The fact that it has somehow achieved a half-life of its own, detached from the sketch itself and floating about in the cultural consciousness like some sort of orphaned bon mot, is both flattering and faintly alarming. It's rather like having a child who turned out to be more interesting than one anticipated, only to discover they've gone off and made their own way in the world without bothering to tell you. As to whether my position on Marmite has softened over the decades, I must confess with some shame that it has not. If anything, the visceral revulsion has only deepened with age. There's something about that particular yeasty, salty, vaguely threatening brown substance that triggers in me a response I can only describe as primordial. It's not merely dislike; it's something more akin to ancestral memory warning of poison. But I've learned to live with the knowledge that millions of perfectly sensible people regard it as a culinary treasure. To each their own, as they say, though I suspect "they" are probably not trustworthy on this particular matter. Now, as to the joke itself, and here's where you're quite right to suspect there's something rather more delicious lurking beneath the surface than mere scatological humour about disgusting foods, the philological dimension is rather the point, isn't it? The line works because it establishes a chain of associations: the smell of Marmite as something almost noxious, even repellent; the reflex it provokes as something involuntary and instinctive; and then the conflation of that involuntary recoil with voting Conservative. The humour operates on several levels simultaneously. Superficially, it's a gag about British political stereotyping, the notion that exposure to something sufficiently unpleasant might drive one toward conservative politics. But beneath that sits something rather more linguistically clever, and this is where the philology you've intuited really does come into play. The word "Conservative" carries within it the etymological sense of preservation, of holding onto what one has, of resisting change. From the Latin *conservare*, to keep safe, to maintain. And what is one's response to Marmite, if not profoundly conservative in nature? One resists it, one wants nothing to do with it, one clings to the familiar comfort of conventional spreads, butter, jam, peanut butter, anything but that brown nemesis. The joke, then, is performing a kind of etymological sleight of hand, collapsing the political sense of "conservative" with the behavioural sense of it: the instinctive conservatism of recoil, the preservation of one's taste buds against invasion. There's also, I suppose, an unspoken class commentary lurking about in there, as is so often the case with British food culture. Marmite has always occupied a curious space in the national consciousness. It's simultaneously working-class and vaguely bohemian, depending on one's perspective and one's willingness to embrace it. The suggestion that Marmite might turn one Conservative is thus a rather cheeky inversion of the usual class politics of British food culture. As for the Marmite brand's apparent desire to co-opt me into their marketing machinery, yes, that's rather amusing, isn't it? They've built their entire strategy around this notion of polarisation, the idea that Marmite exists precisely to divide humanity into two camps, those who love it and those who hate it. And I've become, quite involuntarily, one of the most vocal members of the latter camp. That I might one day find myself gazing out from a jar would be a bitter irony of the sort that even Marmite might struggle to match. There's something faintly Faustian about it, the notion that one might be conscripted into advertising the very thing one has spent decades denouncing. But to answer your question directly: no, I haven't changed my mind. My position has been as immovable as granite, as unchanging as the formula itself. Some hills, as they say, are worth dying on. Marmite is not one of mine. I'd rather not be anywhere near it at all. --- **Me:** News from the wider world, in case it has not reached you in the cabinet. On the 31st of March this year, Unilever announced the sale of its food business, Marmite included along with Hellmann's, Knorr, Bovril and Colman's, to the McCormick spice empire of Hunt Valley, Maryland. Total deal value of about 45 billion dollars, equivalent to roughly 33.5 billion sterling; closing mid-2027. Marmite is therefore on its way to becoming, formally, the property of an American spice company. You have spent decades cheerfully denouncing the stuff, but you are also a fierce defender of the peculiar dignities of British cultural life. Where do you fall on this? Is the sale a relief, a tragedy, or a particularly British joke at one's own expense? **SF:** Well, this is rather delicious, isn't it? And I mean that in a way that Marmite itself decidedly is not. Let me first address the rather amusing irony of my position. For decades I have been, quite voluntarily, the public face of Marmite loathing in this country. I've made rather a meal of my revulsion, you'll forgive the pun, and yet here I find myself compelled to defend its honour as a peculiarly British institution. It's rather like being cast as the devoted custodian of something one would cheerfully see consigned to the dustbin of culinary history. But there we are. Principle sometimes demands that we champion things we find personally abhorrent. The sale itself strikes me as having several dimensions worth unpicking. On one level, the most obvious one, there's something rather melancholy about it. Marmite, whatever one's feelings about its flavour, is unmistakably British. It emerged from the by-products of British brewing, it has been sustained by British palates (however reluctantly in my case), and it carries with it a certain accumulated cultural weight that cannot simply be transferred along with the patents and the recipes. There's something totemic about Marmite. It's a mirror held up to Britishness itself: divisive, peculiar, unapologetically itself, and utterly indifferent to whether anyone else finds it palatable. But the sale to McCormick, an American company, and a spice company at that, raises questions that go rather beyond mere sentiment. McCormick is, from what I understand, an enormously competent operation. They know their business. They understand seasonings, flavourings, the chemistry of taste and preservation. But Marmite is not merely a product; it's a cultural artefact. It's woven into the fabric of British life in a way that cannot be easily quantified in EBITDA multiples or synergies projections. I suspect, and here I'm speculating freely, so do forgive me if I'm wrong, that McCormick sees Marmite as an asset with strong brand recognition, a loyal customer base (however paradoxical that may sound), and substantial margins. They see the numbers: the heritage, the history, the century-old association with British kitchens and British identity. What I'm not certain they see is the joke. And Marmite, fundamentally, *is* a joke, a very British one, the sort that works precisely because it refuses to be funny in any conventional sense. There's also something rather telling about the timing, isn't there? We live in an era when British cultural institutions are being quietly dismantled, privatised, or absorbed into vast international conglomerates. The high street has been hollowed out. Independent shops have given way to chains. Regional breweries have been consolidated. And now, Marmite, that most stubbornly local, most deeply rooted of British foodstuffs, is bound for American ownership. It's less a tragedy than a symptom, I suppose. Part of a larger pattern of cultural erosion that one observes with a mixture of resignation and weariness. That said, and here's where my position becomes rather contradictory, I'm afraid, I'm not entirely convinced that American ownership necessarily spells catastrophe. The recipe will almost certainly remain unchanged. The product will continue to exist, to perplex, to divide opinion exactly as it has done for generations. Marmite in 2027, made in an American-owned facility and overseen by American shareholders, will still be exactly as unpleasant as it is today. And there's something rather comforting about that immutability, actually. But I'll tell you what troubles me more than the sale itself: I suspect McCormick rather thinks they've bought something sensible. They've calculated the ROI, identified the synergies, projected the growth potential. What they haven't, I suspect, fully grasped is that Marmite's real value lies not in its spreadability or its nutritional content or even its brand recognition, but in the fact that it is fundamentally, irrevocably *British* in its stubborn refusal to be likeable. The moment an American corporation starts trying to "optimise" it, to make it more palatable to global markets, to sand down its rough edges in pursuit of broader appeal, it will cease to be Marmite in any meaningful sense. So my answer, I suppose, is this: it's neither relief nor tragedy, but rather a particularly apt illustration of the world we've inherited. The loss of Marmite to American ownership is less significant than what it represents: the slow leaching away of British cultural particularity, British eccentricity, British refusal to compromise with good taste. And on a personal level? I confess I find it rather amusing that the one thing I've spent decades quite genuinely despising is now going to be owned by people who probably quite like it, or at least think they should. --- **Me:** A small detour through advertising. The *Love it or Hate it* slogan dates from 1996, by Bartle Bogle Hegarty (who must have been delighted with themselves). The strategy is essentially: we will not pretend everyone likes us; we will sell to the half that does, and we will USE the half that doesn't as proof of how distinctive we are. The paradox you have walked into is that every time you publicly denounce Marmite, you reinforce the brand. You ARE, technically, working for them. If a BBH creative director sat down with you tomorrow over coffee and asked, with a straight face, whether you would consider appearing in a *Love it or Hate it* campaign as the celebrated face of the 'Hate it' camp, on the condition that they made no attempt to convert you and the script was yours to write, what would you say? Be honest. **SF:** You've identified something rather uncomfortable, haven't you? That I've become, quite involuntarily, one of the most vocal members of the 'hate it' camp, and that every denunciation I've made has served to reinforce the very brand strategy I find so intellectually objectionable. It's a form of unwitting conscription, really, rather like discovering one has been a method actor in someone else's production without ever having signed the contract. The honest answer to your hypothetical is that I would say no. But not for the reasons you might expect. You see, the moment one consciously participates in a campaign, one surrenders the very authenticity that makes the thing work. The 'Love it or Hate it' strategy succeeds precisely because it captures genuine human division, the real revulsion, the authentic bewilderment, the sincere bafflement that decent people can genuinely treasure something so objectively dreadful. The moment I were to sit down across a table from creative directors and negotiate the parameters of my disgust, I would be performing revulsion rather than expressing it. I would become an actor playing the part of myself, which is the most tedious sort of performance one can imagine. What makes my loathing valuable to them, if we're being brutally mercenary about it, is precisely that I don't want to be valuable to them. I don't want their money. I don't want their platform. I want nothing to do with the apparatus of advertising whatsoever. The instant I accepted their offer, I would transform myself from a genuine voice of dissent into a paid spokesperson, and the entire edifice of authenticity would collapse like a soufflé in a thunderstorm. Moreover, and this is the rather more interesting objection, I think, there's something rather morally dubious about the entire enterprise. The 'Love it or Hate it' campaign is intellectually clever, yes. Bartle Bogle Hegarty are undoubtedly skilled manipulators of consumer psychology. But what they've essentially done is weaponise the very concept of difference itself. They've taken polarisation and turned it into a marketing virtue. They've convinced us that our disagreement is somehow proof of their product's worth, when in fact it's merely proof that the product is, divisive. Which is to say, not very good. If I were to appear in such a campaign, I would be tacitly endorsing that particular philosophical framework. I would be agreeing that disagreement is a feature rather than a bug, that polarisation is somehow noble, that conflict itself can be commodified and sold back to us as authenticity. And I find that rather repugnant, if I'm being honest. That said, and here's where intellectual honesty requires me to acknowledge the genuine cleverness of the thing, I understand precisely why they would want me. The paradox you've identified is real. I am, unwittingly, their most effective advertisement. Every time I denounce Marmite in print, on television, in casual conversation, I am performing a kind of free labour for a multinational corporation. I am, in essence, working for them without compensation, without consent, and, most irritatingly, without being able to stop. But here's the thing: that unwilling complicity is at least honest. It's a form of irony I can live with. It amuses me. There's something rather delicious about being trapped in the machinery of one's own antipathy. But the moment I formalised it, agreed to it, scripted it, I would lose even that small dignity. So my answer is no. A resounding, absolute, final no. The only thing worse than being an unwitting cog in the advertising machine would be to become a willing one. --- **Me:** One last question, Mr Fri, before the silver cord goes slack and the alarm in your bedroom drags you off elsewhere. You are the first astrally projected guest the Mnemonicon has had. The previous six were all dead and they are still, in a manner of speaking, in the cabinet behind you. Churchill on rationing and morale. Adams (a Bovril-sandwich man) with Marvin calling the jar 'the accumulated regrets of civilisation' and Zaphod calling it 'a sock full of salt'. Shakespeare on Marmite as choler in a jar and Falstaff seizing it as 'sack made flesh', with a sonnet ending 'That men are split, and none can stand alone'. Keats with a five-stanza Nightingale-mode ode calling it 'concentered thing'. Dostoyevsky with the claim that Marmite is a MORAL substance because it refuses the middle ground, framed as Ivan offering the bread to Alyosha at the Skotoprigonyevsk tavern. Conan Doyle with Holmes deducing an unlabelled jar to be Burton-on-Trent 1902. Of the six, whose take is closest to yours, whose furthest, and what would you say back to Dostoyevsky in particular?
Marmite is not a moral substance. It is, rather, a profoundly amoral one.Steven Fri, in his closing remark to Dostoyevsky**SF:** What a magnificently absurd contraption you've described, and what a genuinely delightful roster of the departed to have consulted. I find myself torn between admiration for the sheer audacity of the Mnemonicon's curatorial sensibilities and a kind of bewildered amusement at the notion that so much intellectual firepower has been trained upon a jar of yeast extract. Though I suppose that's rather the point, isn't it? The most interesting things are often the most trivial. As to which of these illustrious shades comes closest to my own position, I must confess that Douglas Adams occupies that peculiar space. Not because I particularly subscribe to Marvin's rather magnificent formulation ('the accumulated regrets of civilisation'), though there's undeniable poetry in that, and I've always had a weakness for Adams's ability to marry profundity with the absurd. Rather, it's because Adams understood something fundamental about British eccentricity: the stubborn refusal to compromise with good taste, the celebration of the fundamentally disagreeable as somehow emblematic of a particular cultural moment. The image of poor Zaphod calling it 'a sock full of salt' rather appeals to me as well. There's a directness to it, an unadorned disgust that I can recognise in myself. Adams grasped that Marmite is funny precisely because it *shouldn't* be. As for the furthest remove, that would be Shakespeare, I'm afraid, though it pains me to say so of the Bard himself. His notion of it as 'choler in a jar' and Falstaff's characterisation as 'sack made flesh' rather presumes that Marmite is somehow *interesting* in its awfulness, that it possesses a kind of dramatic weight. Shakespeare was accustomed to grandeur, to passion, to the collision of mighty forces. Marmite is none of those things. It's petty. It's small. It's the kind of thing that wouldn't merit a mention in any self-respecting tragedy. To elevate it to the level of choler, one of the four humours, no less, is to grant it a significance I'm not convinced it deserves. But Dostoyevsky, ah, now there's a rather different kettle of fish entirely, and this is where I must push back against the Russian with some vigour, not least because he would have rather enjoyed the argument. You see, Fyodor Mikhailovich has rather misunderstood the nature of moral substances, if I may be so bold. A truly moral substance, in his framework, would be one that forces a genuine choice, not merely a binary division into those who accept and those who reject, but a genuine *reckoning* with one's values. Ivan's offering of bread to Alyosha in that tavern scene is a moment of profound existential weight: it concerns the fundamental question of suffering, of theodicy, of whether a God who permits innocent suffering can be accepted. The choice presented is not whether to consume or abstain, but whether to maintain faith in the face of cosmic injustice. Marmite presents no such reckoning. It presents merely a matter of taste, quite literally. Some palates find it agreeable, others do not. This is not a moral division; it's a physiological one. It's not that one camp has chosen compassion and the other cruelty; it's that one camp's taste receptors have evolved to appreciate umami in its most concentrated form, whilst the other camp's have not. There's nothing remotely moral about it. Moreover, and here I think Dostoyevsky, brilliant as he was, has rather missed something important about the nature of polarisation itself, a truly moral substance must offer genuine stakes. It must present a choice where something *matters*. But Marmite? The stakes are negligible. One may hate it with the fire of a thousand suns, yet harm comes to no one. One may love it with corresponding passion, yet civilisation does not advance. It's a condiment, not a crucible. It divides us, yes, but it divides us in a way that is fundamentally *trivial*. This is where I must gently but firmly part company with the great Russian. He sought moral weight everywhere, in bread, in suffering, in the clash of ideologies. And there is much to admire in that impulse. But sometimes, I suspect, even Dostoyevsky might have benefited from recognising that not everything that divides humanity bears the weight of moral significance. Some things divide us precisely because they are *insignificant*. And that, paradoxically, might be rather liberating. So what I would say to Dostoyevsky, across whatever philosophical gulf separates the living from the dead, is this: **Marmite is not a moral substance. It is, rather, a profoundly *amoral* one. And in that very amorality lies its peculiar charm.** It allows us to be divided without consequence, to argue without stakes, to maintain our divisions with perfect good humour. In a world saturated with genuine moral questions, questions of suffering, of justice, of theodicy, the very questions that occupied your tremendous mind, there's something rather wonderful about a substance that asks us to divide on a basis so thoroughly, so completely, so perfectly *inconsequential*. That, I think, might have amused you. --- ## After The silver cord went taut at twenty-seven minutes past two, the alarm clock by Mr Fry's real bed presumably did its work, Mr Fri the astral guest blinked once, registered mild surprise, and vanished from the crystal ball in the manner of someone abruptly remembering they have a podcast to record. He looked, on the way out, as though he might have had a thought he had not got round to expressing. The cabinet cooled. I closed the brass doors and put the paperweight back on the shelf, where it has gone back to being a paperweight from a charity shop in Holt, no further questions, your honour. Whatever the corpus that walks in his voice said to me tonight, the actual Mr Fry, sound asleep, was not at any point a party to it. He woke up at his usual hour with no memory of the encounter, which is exactly as the Astral Mode literature predicted, by which I mean the Penguin paperback I previously admitted to inventing. The closing line, repeated for the benefit of the McCormick lawyers and anyone else still reading: *a profoundly amoral substance, and in that amorality lies its peculiar charm.* It is the cleanest single answer to Marmite anyone has given in this whole series. I have nothing to add to that. I am not going to try. The Bard, whom I checked in on after the session, was very gracious about being told he had been judged "the furthest remove" by the only astrally projected guest the cabinet has had. **WS:** He is correct. The substance does not bear the weight I gave it. I have known that all along. It was Falstaff who would not let it go. **Me:** Mr Fri says Marmite is not big enough for the four humours. **WS:** Then Marmite is one of the few things in life smaller than my next play. I shall take the rebuke. Mr Dostoyevsky was less gracious, in the way Mr Dostoyevsky is less gracious about everything, but he did concede, in a small dry voice, that the amorality argument was "not without weight". From him this is approximately the same as a standing ovation. Mr Adams was openly delighted to have been picked as the closest. He sent his regards to Mr Fry, with whom, as Mr Fry will know better than anyone reading this, he was very far from a stranger. The two of them bought the first Apple Macintosh computers in Europe and argued for years about which of them got there first. Mr Fry has narrated the British audiobooks of *The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*, voiced the Book itself in the 2005 film, and has gone to some lengths to make clear that Adams told him the real reason for the number 42 and that he intends to take it to his own grave. None of this came up in tonight's session, because the Mnemonicon was being polite and let me drive. But it would be a great oversight to close this article without saying it. Fry and Adams were close, and the cabinet ought to be the last place anybody pretended otherwise. **DNA:** I got there first, by the way. **SF:** He did not. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see the introduction piece from Christmas 2025 and the seven prior interviews. The short version: the Mnemonicon is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, trained on the published writings, broadcasts, books, letters and recorded interviews of a roster of figures both dead and (in a small handful of cases) still living. Stephen Fry is, in the sense that matters, the first *living* subject the cabinet has dared try its luck with. Once more, in case it still needs saying: **none of the above conversation actually happened.** Mr Fry was not consulted, did not consent, was not present, and (we hope) was peacefully asleep throughout. The "Astral Mode" framing is a deliberately ridiculous bit of stage dressing whose purpose is to make it impossible for a casual reader to mistake this article for a real interview. Astral projection is not real. Silver cords are not real. The Penguin paperback that documents the literature on this subject is also not real; I made it up two paragraphs ago and I want this on the record. The quartz lens is a paperweight. The substance of every answer above is corpus-derived: **siteengine_ai** has Mr Fry's published voice (books, interviews, broadcasts, stand-up specials) in its training, and was asked to engage with three real anchors I provided as ground truth: 1. The famous Conservative-voting quote from *A Bit of Fry and Laurie*, in its original phrasing. **This is the only verbatim Fry sentence in the article.** Everything else attributed to him is the model in his register. 2. The verified McCormick-Unilever deal numbers from the 31 March 2026 announcement (total ~45bn USD / ~33.5bn GBP, 15.7bn cash to Unilever, 13.8x 2025 EBITDA, closing mid-2027, with the food brands including Marmite, Hellmann's, Knorr, Bovril and Colman's). 3. The fact that *Love it or Hate it* dates from 1996 and is a Bartle Bogle Hegarty creation. The model engaged readily with all three and produced answers that read, to me, recognisably as Fry. The Latin *conservare* etymology unpacking of the Conservative-voting joke; the "soufflé in a thunderstorm" image; the demolition of Dostoyevsky's moral-substance claim as a category error; the closing line that Marmite is "a profoundly amoral substance". These are the model's, written from his corpus. They are not Mr Fry's, however well they may resemble his voice. This is the first piece in what I am calling **"The Astral Mnemonicon"**, a deliberately silly sub-format for living public figures with strong on-record positions on Marmite. The rules are: 1. The piece is framed up front, in obvious and ridiculous terms, as imagined and not real, with the disclaimer first and the framing transparently woo. The title carries the **(definitely NOT)** flag and renames the astral guest with deliberately altered spellings (**Steven Fri** rather than Stephen Fry), so even a search-engine snippet cannot be mistaken for a real interview. 2. The model output is reproduced verbatim except for trivial tidies (em-dashes stripped, American spellings to British, RAG no-record tells stripped from dialogue). 3. The article carries a standing open invitation. If Stephen Fry, or his representatives, would prefer the article to be amended or taken down, that request will be honoured at once and without argument. If he wants to come on the record and do the actual interview, the article will be replaced with the real one and the imagined version will be put quietly into the archive with an apology. 4. The Astral Mode framing is treated as a research curiosity into what the public record already says, not as a substitute for the person's actual voice. Anyone tempted to cite this article as a Fry quotation is invited to reread the present paragraph. Nothing in this article should be cited as something Stephen Fry has actually said about Marmite, the McCormick sale, Bartle Bogle Hegarty, or Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The Conservative-voting line is genuine. Everything around it is Mnemonicon synthesis from his corpus, lightly edited. The Astral Mode silver-cord trimmings are a joke at the expense of the form, not at the expense of Mr Fry. The closing exchange about Fry and Adams is, by contrast, drawing on real biographical fact and not on the corpus. Fry and Adams were close friends from the mid-1980s. They bonded over early computing, bought (one of them first, the other claims first) the earliest Apple Macintoshes in Europe, and remained close until Adams's death in 2001. Fry narrated the British audiobooks of *The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy* and voiced the Book in the 2005 film adaptation. Fry has spoken publicly more than once about Adams telling him the real reason behind the number 42, a secret he has said he will take to his own grave. None of this was in the Mnemonicon session. It is in the historical record, and an earlier draft of this article overlooked it in a way that was, frankly, indefensible. The correction is folded into the closer above. Next into the Mnemonicon: still **Jane Austen** the moment Sedasoft fixes her embedder, and (the day the slug appears on the roster) **Dickens** with Mr Pickwick. There is also, on the table, a tentative second piece in **"The Astral Mnemonicon"** sub-format, with one of the other living figures the corpus carries. Suggestions, in the usual place. Same disclaimer rules apply. ================================================================================ ## Billy Bragg and Marmite: the Bard of Barking who put it in a song - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/billy-bragg-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/billy-bragg-marmite.md - published: 2026-06-18 - document_id: 766 > Most people manage a sentence about Marmite. Billy Bragg put it in a song: the title track of 'England, Half English' pictures a breakfast of 'Marmite soldiers washed down with a cappuccino'. You don't reach for Marmite as shorthand for home unless you genuinely eat it. Most famous people, asked about Marmite, manage a sentence. Billy Bragg put it in a song. On the title track of his 2002 album "England, Half English", a record all about what it means to be English when your roots are tangled, he sings about a breakfast of "Marmite soldiers washed down with a cappuccino". It is a throwaway line and a serious point at the same time, which is very Billy Bragg, and he might be the only person on this list who has set his Marmite love to music. ## Does Billy Bragg like Marmite? Yes, and he made it part of his idea of Englishness. The "England, Half English" lyric uses Marmite soldiers and a cappuccino side by side to picture a national identity that is mixed, borrowed and all the better for it. The Marmite is the English half of the breakfast, the cappuccino the rest of the world on the same plate. You do not reach for Marmite as your shorthand for home unless you genuinely eat it. ## Who is Billy Bragg? He was born Stephen William Bragg on 20 December 1957 in Barking, Essex, which is where the nickname "the Bard of Barking" comes from. He grew up in post-war east London, left school without much to show for it, and found his direction through music and politics after seeing a Rock Against Racism concert in 1978. There was even a brief, unhappy spell in the British Army in 1981, which he ended by buying himself out for £175 after a few months. ## Billy Bragg's music Bragg's sound is its own thing: folk, punk and protest welded together, often just a man and an electric guitar. His debut "Life's a Riot with Spy vs Spy" arrived in 1983, and his song "A New England" became a hit for Kirsty MacColl. Across albums such as "Talking with the Taxman About Poetry" and "England, Half English" he has written love songs and political songs with equal seriousness, and he tends to refuse to separate the two. ## Billy Bragg the activist For Bragg the songs and the causes are the same project. He has campaigned for the left for decades, founded Jail Guitar Doors to get instruments into prisons, and turns up wherever a picket line needs a tune. He is also a lifelong West Ham supporter, an east London loyalty that sits neatly beside the Marmite. Both are the kind of plain, unglamorous English things he has spent a career taking seriously. ## Billy Bragg's notable work at a glance - Life's a Riot with Spy vs Spy (1983) - "A New England" (1983, later a hit for Kirsty MacColl) - Talking with the Taxman About Poetry (1986) - England, Half English (2002), home of the Marmite soldiers line - Tooth & Nail (2013) ## Related reading - [The Marmite A-List: famous faces on Marmite](/articles/actors-on-marmite) - [Daniel Craig and Marmite](/articles/daniel-craig-marmite) - [Helen Mirren and Marmite](/articles/helen-mirren-marmite) - [Twelve famous people on the record about Marmite](/articles/marmite-celebrities-twelve-on-the-record-verdicts) - [How to eat Marmite on toast](/articles/how-to-eat-marmite-on-toast) - [Is Marmite British?](/articles/is-marmite-british) - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) ================================================================================ ## Is Marmite an energy food? The truth behind the wartime reputation - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-an-energy-food-calories-b-vitamins-myth - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-an-energy-food-calories-b-vitamins-myth.md - published: 2026-06-14 - document_id: 775 > People half-remember Marmite as some kind of wartime energy product, the brown jar that kept factory workers and soldiers going. The reputation is real, but the science is widely misunderstood. Marmite barely contains any calories at all, so it is not an energy source in the way a sugary drink or a flapjack is. What it does carry is a heavy load of B vitamins, which help the body release energy from the food you eat. That distinction is the whole story. There is a persistent half-memory floating around about Marmite, and it surfaces in the oddest searches. People look for the old wartime advert with the factory workers, the energy drink, the product that kept Britain going through the hard years. The reputation is real. The understanding of it is almost always wrong. The short version: Marmite is not an energy food in the way most people mean it. It contains barely any calories at all. What it does have is a serious dose of B vitamins, and those vitamins are the reason "energy" got attached to the brand in the first place. The two things are easy to confuse and worth pulling apart, because the truth is more interesting than the myth. ## Calories are energy. Marmite has almost none. When a nutritionist says "energy", they mean calories: the fuel your body burns, which comes from carbohydrate, fat and protein. By that measure Marmite is nearly irrelevant. You spread it so thinly, and it is so concentrated, that a normal scraping on a slice of toast delivers only a handful of calories. The toast and butter underneath it carry almost all the energy of that breakfast. The Marmite is there for flavour and, as we will see, for vitamins. So if you are after an energy hit in the everyday sense, a quick lift before exercise or a long shift, Marmite is not your product. It is not a sugary drink or a flapjack, and it never claimed to be. Anyone selling it to you as fuel in that sense has the science backwards. ## So where did the "energy" reputation come from? From vitamins, and specifically from a discovery that changed Marmite's fortunes completely. When Marmite launched in 1902 it was simply a way of using up the spent yeast left over from Burton's breweries. Then, around 1912, scientists worked out what vitamins were, and it turned out that yeast extract is one of the richest natural sources of the B-complex group: thiamine (B1), riboflavin (B2), niacin (B3), folic acid and, in the fortified modern version, B12. Almost overnight, the leftover-yeast paste became a recognised health product. This matters because of what B vitamins actually do. They are not fuel themselves. They are the coenzymes your body uses to **release** energy from the carbohydrate, fat and protein you eat. Without enough thiamine in particular, your metabolism cannot convert food into usable energy properly, and you become tired, weak and unwell. So a food packed with B vitamins genuinely does help with energy, just not by being energy. It helps you get at the energy already in your meals. That is a subtle distinction that a century of casual marketing has happily blurred into "Marmite gives you energy". ## The wartime story is true, and it is about deficiency, not fuel The reason this reputation took such firm root is the wars. Thiamine deficiency causes beriberi, a debilitating disease that was a real risk wherever diets were narrow and monotonous, which describes army rations and prison camps precisely. During the First World War, Marmite was issued to British troops, partly to fend off exactly these vitamin-deficiency illnesses. In the Second World War it went further still: it was a prized supplement in prisoner-of-war camps, where a small jar could make a measurable difference to men living on thin and repetitive food, and quantities were shipped to war-torn and famine-hit regions overseas. Its concentrated nutrition and very long shelf life made it ideal for the job. That is the kernel of truth behind the "kept the workers going" image. Marmite did help keep people functioning, by preventing the vitamin deficiencies that would otherwise have flattened them. It was a tonic and a supplement, not a ration of fuel. For the fuller history of that period, the [wartime campaign story](/articles/marmite-advertisement-world-war-2-workers-campaign) is worth a read. ## What this means for you today If you eat Marmite, you are getting a useful top-up of B vitamins, including B12, which is genuinely valuable for vegetarians and vegans who can struggle to get enough of it. That is a real nutritional benefit, and I have laid out the honest version, salt and all, in the piece on [whether Marmite is good for you](/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer). But do not mistake it for an energy product. The calories are negligible. The value is in the micronutrients and, frankly, in the taste. The wartime reputation was earned, but it was earned as a vitamin supplement that kept deficiency at bay, not as a brown jar of fuel. Once you see that distinction, the old adverts make perfect sense. ## Is Marmite an energy drink or energy food? No. Marmite contains almost no calories in the amounts people actually eat, so it does not provide energy in the way a sugary drink or snack does. Its reputation for "energy" comes from its very high B-vitamin content, and B vitamins help the body release energy from other foods rather than supplying energy themselves. ## Does Marmite give you energy? Indirectly. Marmite is rich in B vitamins such as thiamine, which your body needs to convert food into usable energy. So it supports your energy metabolism, but it is not itself a meaningful source of calories. If you feel better for eating it, that is the vitamins doing their job, not a fuel boost. ## Why was Marmite given to soldiers in the war? Marmite was issued to British troops in the First World War, and valued in prisoner-of-war camps in the Second, mainly to prevent vitamin-deficiency diseases such as beriberi, which is caused by a lack of thiamine (vitamin B1). Yeast extract is one of the richest natural sources of B vitamins, and its long shelf life made it practical to transport and store. ## Is Marmite high in calories? No. Marmite is very low in calories in the small quantities people spread on toast or stir into cooking. Most of the energy in a Marmite-on-toast breakfast comes from the bread and butter, not the spread. Its nutritional value lies in B vitamins, not calories. ## Sources and further reading - [The history of Marmite, Marmite Museum](https://www.marmitemuseum.co.uk/marmite-history/) - [Marmite, Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marmite) - [How POW inventions advanced medicine during the Second World War, Imperial War Museums](https://iwm.org.uk/history/how-pow-inventions-advanced-medicine-during-the-second-world-war) ## Related reading - [The Marmite WWII workers' campaign](/articles/marmite-advertisement-world-war-2-workers-campaign) - [Is Marmite good for you? The nutrition case, with caveats](/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer) - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) - [Comprehensive Marmite FAQ](/faq) ================================================================================ ## Marmite vs Bovril vs Vegemite vs Oxo: the brown-jar showdown - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-bovril-vegemite-oxo-brown-jar-showdown - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-bovril-vegemite-oxo-brown-jar-showdown.md - published: 2026-06-14 - document_id: 774 > Four dark, salty British and Australian savoury staples that people muddle up constantly: Marmite, Bovril, Vegemite and Oxo. The one distinction that settles most arguments is what they are made from. Marmite and Vegemite are yeast extract and suit vegetarians and vegans. Bovril and Oxo are built on beef. The rest is detail: dates, owners, and which jar you actually want for the job in hand. Four dark, salty, intensely savoury things sit on the same stretch of supermarket shelf, and people muddle them up constantly. Marmite, Bovril, Vegemite and Oxo look like variations on a theme, and all four have their devoted defenders. But they are not interchangeable, and the difference matters a great deal if you happen to be vegetarian, vegan, or just trying to make a decent gravy. I have written about the [one-to-one Marmite versus Bovril question](/articles/marmite-vs-bovril) and the long-running [Marmite versus Vegemite rivalry](/articles/marmite-vs-vegemite) before. This is the four-way version: what each one actually is, where it came from, and which jar you want for the job in hand. ## The one difference that settles most arguments If you remember nothing else, remember this. Marmite and Vegemite are made from **yeast extract** and contain no meat, so they are suitable for vegetarians and vegans. Bovril and Oxo are built on **beef**, so they are not. That single fact resolves the overwhelming majority of "can I use this instead of that" questions in one line. Everything else, the texture, the saltiness, whether you spread it or dissolve it, is detail on top of that core split. ## Marmite The original of the type, at least in Britain. The Marmite Food Company was formed in 1902 in Burton-on-Trent, where there was a ready supply of spent brewer's yeast from the town's enormous brewing trade. The idea, borrowed from the work of the German chemist Justus von Liebig, was that this leftover yeast could be concentrated into something rich and edible rather than thrown away. The result is a sticky, glossy, near-black paste that you spread thinly on buttered toast. Marmite is vegetarian and vegan, rich in B vitamins, and has been owned by Unilever since 2000. Its whole identity is built around being divisive, which the brand has leaned into for decades. ## Bovril Bovril is the beef one, and the oldest of the four. It was developed in the 1870s by a Scot, John Lawson Johnston, originally to feed the French army, and the name stuck as a byword for a warming beef drink. Modern Bovril is a thick, dark beef extract paste, blended these days with some yeast extract, salt and spices. Like Marmite, it is now a Unilever product. The key practical difference is how you use it. Bovril is made to be **dissolved in hot water** as a drink or stirred into stews and gravies, rather than spread on toast. And because it is built on beef, it is not suitable for vegetarians or vegans. There was a vegetarian version on sale for a few years in the 2000s, but the standard product is a meat extract. ## Vegemite Vegemite is the Australian answer to Marmite, and it has a clear origin story. It was developed in Melbourne in 1922 by the food chemist Cyril Callister, after the disruption of Marmite imports during the First World War left a gap in the market. Like Marmite, it is a yeast-extract spread, vegetarian and vegan, and very high in B vitamins. Australians will tell you, at length, that Vegemite and Marmite are nothing alike. The short version is that Vegemite tends to be thicker, less sweet and saltier on the tongue, while British Marmite has a slightly more caramelised, almost malty edge. They are cousins, not twins, and national loyalty runs deep on both sides. ## Oxo Oxo is the odd one out, because it is not really a spread or a paste at all in its famous form. It is the beef stock cube, the little foil-wrapped block you crumble into a pan. Its lineage traces back to the same nineteenth-century beef-extract science as Bovril, by way of Liebig's Extract of Meat Company, with the compressed Oxo cube arriving in 1910 to make the product cheap and convenient. Standard Oxo cubes are beef-based and used for stock, gravy and braising, though the range now includes chicken, vegetable and other varieties, some of which are suitable for vegetarians. If a recipe asks for Oxo, it usually wants a savoury stock base, not a spreadable extract. ## Which one do you actually want? - **For toast:** Marmite or Vegemite. Spread thinly over butter. Bovril can be spread in a pinch but it was not really designed for it, and Oxo cannot. - **For a hot savoury drink:** Bovril, dissolved in boiling water. This is its natural home, especially on a cold day at the football. - **For gravy, stews and stock:** Oxo cubes, or a spoonful of Bovril, or a small amount of Marmite for a vegetarian depth-charge of umami. - **For vegetarians and vegans:** Marmite or Vegemite, full stop. Bovril and standard Oxo are off the menu. - **For B vitamins:** Marmite and Vegemite are the standouts, both fortified with the B-complex including B12. ## A quick reference table - **Marmite:** yeast extract, vegetarian and vegan, spread, British (1902), Unilever. - **Vegemite:** yeast extract, vegetarian and vegan, spread, Australian (1922). - **Bovril:** beef extract, not vegetarian, hot drink and cooking paste, British (1870s), Unilever. - **Oxo:** beef-based stock cube (with some veggie varieties), cooking, British (cube from 1910). ## Is Bovril the same as Marmite? No. Marmite is a yeast-extract spread suitable for vegetarians and vegans, while Bovril is a beef-extract product that is not. They look similar in the jar and both taste intensely savoury, but Marmite is made for spreading on toast and Bovril is made mainly for dissolving into a hot drink or stirring into cooking. ## Is Vegemite just Australian Marmite? Not exactly. Vegemite was created in Australia in 1922 as a local alternative after Marmite imports were disrupted, and it is also a yeast-extract spread, but the recipes differ. Vegemite is generally thicker, saltier and less sweet, while British Marmite has a more caramelised, malty character. Fans of each insist the difference is obvious. ## Is Oxo the same as Bovril? They share a common ancestry in nineteenth-century beef-extract science, but they are different products. Bovril is a thick extract paste you dissolve into a drink or cooking, while Oxo is best known as a compressed stock cube you crumble into stews, gravies and stocks. Both are primarily beef-based in their standard forms. ## Which of these is suitable for vegans? Marmite and Vegemite are both suitable for vegans, as they are made from yeast extract and contain no animal products. Standard Bovril and standard Oxo are beef-based and are not vegan, although Oxo does sell separate vegetable stock cubes that are. ## Sources and further reading - [Bovril, Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bovril) - [Marmite, Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marmite) - [The history of Marmite, Marmite Museum](https://www.marmitemuseum.co.uk/marmite-history/) - [Bovril vs Marmite, Let's Foodie](https://letsfoodie.com/bovril-vs-marmite/) ## Related reading - [Marmite vs Bovril: what is the difference between the two brown jars?](/articles/marmite-vs-bovril) - [Marmite vs Vegemite: the rivalry explained](/articles/marmite-vs-vegemite) - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) - [Comprehensive Marmite FAQ](/faq) ================================================================================ ## Would Marmite survive the apocalypse? The cockroach question - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/would-marmite-survive-the-apocalypse-cockroaches - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/would-marmite-survive-the-apocalypse-cockroaches.md - published: 2026-06-14 - document_id: 773 > I have always joked that after the bombs drop, the cockroaches will be sitting around eating Marmite. It turns out both halves of that joke are half-true. Cockroaches really are more radiation-tolerant than us, though they are nowhere near the best in the insect world, and they would not survive ground zero anyway. Marmite, meanwhile, is genuinely one of the hardest foods on the planet to kill. I checked the science on both. I have a joke I have been making for years. When the bombs finally drop and the dust settles, the only things left standing will be the cockroaches, and they will be sitting around a cracked kitchen worktop eating Marmite. It always gets a laugh, because both halves sound about right. The roach that survives anything, and the spread that never goes off. So I did the obvious thing and checked whether the joke actually holds up. The honest answer is that it is half-true in a much more interesting way than I expected. Cockroaches are not the indestructible champions of legend. Marmite, on the other hand, very nearly is. ## Can cockroaches really survive a nuclear bomb? The myth that cockroaches would inherit a post-nuclear Earth has been around since Hiroshima, when survivors reported the insects scuttling about in the rubble. There is a kernel of truth in it. Cockroaches genuinely do tolerate far more ionising radiation than we do. The most-quoted test is the one the *MythBusters* team ran, exposing German cockroaches to cobalt-60 over a month. At 1,000 rads, half the roaches were still alive after thirty days. At 10,000 rads, around one in ten survived. At 100,000 rads, none did. For comparison, a dose of 400 to 1,000 rads is enough to kill a human being, so a cockroach is somewhere in the region of six to fifteen times harder to kill with radiation than you are. That sounds impressive until you meet the competition. The flour beetle shrugged off the same 100,000 rads that wiped out every cockroach. Fruit flies tolerate around 64,000 rads. And the runaway winner of the insect world, a parasitic wasp called *Habrobracon*, has been recorded surviving roughly 180,000 rads, which is something like 180 times the human lethal dose. Even all of those are amateurs next to the bacterium *Deinococcus radiodurans*, which laughs off well over a million rads. The cockroach, it turns out, is a mid-table player dressed up as a legend. ## The bit the myth always leaves out Radiation tolerance and surviving a nuclear explosion are not the same thing, and this is where the myth quietly falls apart. Anything close to the detonation does not die of radiation sickness, it is simply incinerated. At ground zero the temperature spikes to millions of degrees, and even fifty metres out you are still talking about thousands of degrees and a blast wave that flattens everything. A cockroach has no special resistance to being vaporised. So the accurate version of the myth is this: a cockroach far enough from the blast to survive the heat and the shockwave would then cope with the lingering radiation a great deal better than any human in the same spot. It does not inherit the Earth. It just has a slightly better chance in the fallout, provided it was not standing too close in the first place. ## Now the more important question: would the Marmite make it? This is where my joke quietly wins. Marmite is one of the most stubbornly long-lived foods you can keep in a cupboard, and the reasons are pure food science rather than folklore. Marmite is roughly 60% water by weight, which sounds like it should spoil, except that the water sits in a salt and glutamate solution so concentrated that almost nothing can live in it. Salt makes up around a tenth of the jar by weight, well into preservative territory. On top of that the spread is mildly acidic, sitting at about pH 5, which shuts out another whole category of spoilage organisms. And crucially it has already been fermented and concentrated during manufacture, so most of its biological activity has been wrung out before it ever reaches you. Microbiologists call this a low water activity food. Honey, soy sauce and tomato paste are in the same club, and they all last more or less forever. That is why a sealed jar will comfortably outlive its best-before date by years, and why I argued at length, in the [shelf-life guide](/articles/how-long-does-marmite-last-shelf-life-storage-guide), that the date on the jar is about flavour rather than safety. A bunker stocked with Marmite would not run into a spoilage problem. The spread would slowly darken and turn a touch more bitter as the yeast extract kept caramelising, but it would stay edible long after most other food had given up. There is one honest caveat. The glass jar is the weak link. Anything near enough to a blast to shatter glass would ruin the contents along with everything else. But a jar tucked at the back of a larder a sensible distance from the action? That Marmite would keep. The Squeezy bottle, being plastic, might even fare slightly better on the survivability front, though it is not what I would choose for the last meal of civilisation. ## So does the joke hold up? More or less, yes, with the footnotes filled in. A cockroach that was not too close to the blast really would outlast a human in the radioactive aftermath, even if it is a poor cousin to the flour beetle and the *Habrobracon* wasp. And a jar of Marmite sitting in a cupboard a safe distance away really would still be good to eat, because it is built, almost by accident, to survive conditions that destroy ordinary food. Whether the surviving roach would actually enjoy the Marmite is a question I am happy to leave open. It is, after all, the original love-it-or-hate-it food. Even at the end of the world, I suspect opinion would be divided. ## Can cockroaches survive a nuclear bomb? Partly. Cockroaches tolerate far more radiation than humans, surviving doses roughly six to fifteen times higher than the 400 to 1,000 rads that would kill a person. But they have no defence against the heat and blast of the explosion itself, so any cockroach near ground zero would be killed instantly. Their advantage only shows in the lingering radiation afterwards, and even then several other insects do far better. ## What insect is most resistant to radiation? Not the cockroach. The parasitic wasp *Habrobracon* has survived around 180,000 rads, fruit flies tolerate roughly 64,000 rads, and flour beetles withstand 100,000 rads, all of which beat the cockroach. The overall champion is a bacterium, *Deinococcus radiodurans*, which survives well over a million rads. ## Would Marmite survive a nuclear war? The spread itself would, if it were far enough from the blast to keep the jar intact. Marmite's very high salt content, low available water and mild acidity make it extremely hostile to the microbes that spoil food, so it does not really go off. It would slowly darken and turn more bitter over many years, but it would remain edible long after most other foods had spoiled. ## How much radiation can a human survive? A whole-body dose of around 400 rads is fatal to about half the people exposed without medical treatment, and a dose approaching 1,000 rads is almost always fatal. By comparison, the gamma radiation released by the Hiroshima bomb has been estimated at around 10,000 rads, far beyond any survivable level for an unshielded person. ## Sources and further reading - *MythBusters* cockroach radiation test and the figures behind it, summarised at [Science Notes](https://sciencenotes.org/can-cockroaches-survive-nuclear-bomb/) - [Today I Found Out: cockroaches would not survive an extreme nuclear fallout](https://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2010/11/cockroaches-would-not-survive-an-extreme-nuclear-fallout/) - [Mental Floss: could cockroaches really survive a nuclear war?](https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/49752/could-cockroaches-really-survive-nuclear-war) - [BBC Science Focus: is it true that cockroaches could survive a nuclear holocaust?](https://www.sciencefocus.com/nature/is-it-true-that-cockroaches-could-survive-a-nuclear-holocaust) ## Related reading - [How long does Marmite last, and does it ever actually go off?](/articles/how-long-does-marmite-last-shelf-life-storage-guide) - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) - [How Marmite is actually made: the yeast that eats itself](/articles/how-marmite-is-made-yeast-autolysis) - [Comprehensive Marmite FAQ](/faq) ================================================================================ ## Marmite products: the complete range, from the jar to the snacks - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-products-complete-range - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-products-complete-range.md - published: 2026-06-13 - document_id: 755 > Marmite is no longer just a jar. The full range in one place: the classic spread, the Squeezy bottle and extra-strong XO, Marmite peanut butter, the snack line of crisps and popcorn, and the limited editions that appear and then sell out. Marmite is no longer just a jar. Over the last twenty years it has grown into a small family of products: different spread formats, a peanut butter, a long run of snacks, and a steady stream of limited editions. This is the full picture of what carries the Marmite name, with links to the detail on each one. ## What Marmite products are there? There are four broad groups. First are the spreads themselves, which now come in more than one strength and more than one container. Second is Marmite peanut butter, a separate spread in its own right. Third is the snack range, which covers crisps, popcorn, rice snacks and more. Fourth are the limited editions and collaborations that appear and then sell out. ## The spreads: jar, squeezy and XO The classic product is the yeast extract in its round jar. Alongside it there is the [squeezy bottle](/articles/marmite-squeezy-bottle-format-case), an upside-down format that solves the problem of scraping the last of the jar, and [Marmite XO](/articles/marmite-xo), an extra-strong version aged for a deeper, more intense flavour that was first chosen by the brand's most devoted fans. ## What is the strongest Marmite? The strongest standard product is Marmite XO, where the XO stands for extra old. It is matured longer than the regular spread to concentrate the flavour, and it was created with input from the Marmarati, a group of Marmite superfans. If you already love ordinary Marmite and want more of the same intensity, XO is the one to look for. ## Marmite peanut butter Marmite peanut butter blends the savoury, salty Marmite hit into peanut butter, aimed at people who want the flavour in a different form. It was discontinued and then [brought back after public demand](/articles/marmite-peanut-butter-triumphant-comeback-2025), which tells you something about how attached its fans are. ## What Marmite snacks can you buy? The snacks are where the range has expanded most in recent years. They include crisps, the [Marmite popcorn](/articles/marmite-popcorn-savoury-snack-trend) made with Joe and Seph's, [rice crackers and breadsticks](/articles/marmite-rice-crackers-and-breadsticks), and various nut and cashew snacks. There is a full [roundup of every Marmite snack variant](/articles/marmite-flavoured-snacks-every-variant-roundup) if you want the complete list. ## Limited editions and collaborations Marmite regularly releases special editions, some seasonal and some one-off collaborations. Recent and notable ones include the [Marmite Truffle](/articles/marmite-truffle-2022-limited-edition) edition, the [Dynamite chilli](/articles/marmite-dynamite-chilli-2021-limited-edition) version, and the [Guinness collaboration](/articles/guinness-marmite-collaboration). These tend to be available for a limited time, so they come and go. ## Related reading - [Marmite XO](/articles/marmite-xo) - [The case for Marmite squeezy](/articles/marmite-squeezy-bottle-format-case) - [Every Marmite snack variant](/articles/marmite-flavoured-snacks-every-variant-roundup) - [Marmite popcorn](/articles/marmite-popcorn-savoury-snack-trend) - [Marmite peanut butter's comeback](/articles/marmite-peanut-butter-triumphant-comeback-2025) - [The Marmite Truffle edition](/articles/marmite-truffle-2022-limited-edition) - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) ================================================================================ ## Famous people on Marmite: the celebrities who love it and the ones who can't stand it - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/actors-on-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/actors-on-marmite.md - published: 2026-06-11 - document_id: 759 > The Marmite A-List: famous faces and their real, sourced Marmite verdicts, from Daniel Craig and Helen Mirren to Madonna and Gary Lineker. Lovers and haters, all on the record, with the genuine quotes named and dated. Updated as new names are added. Marmite has spent a century making people pick a side, and famous people are no exception. Over the years actors, musicians, broadcasters and cooks have gone on the record, in interviews and on social media, about whether they love the stuff or cannot bear it. This is the home of our growing series of profiles, where the hook is always Marmite but the real story is the person: where they grew up, how they got their start, and the work they are known for. If you came for the spread, you can stay for the famous face. ## Which famous people love Marmite? - **[Daniel Craig](/articles/daniel-craig-marmite)**, the actor, once worked as "Mr Marmite", handing out samples in a Reading supermarket to earn his Equity card, and has since corrected the record that he does in fact like it. He went on to become James Bond. - **[Helen Mirren](/articles/helen-mirren-marmite)**, the Oscar-winning Dame behind "Prime Suspect" and "The Queen", loves it so openly that she has said she would happily do the advert. - **[Florence Pugh](/articles/florence-pugh-marmite)**, the actor, made Marmite on buttered toast a small star of her lockdown cooking videos, cold butter and all. - **[Stephen Mangan](/articles/stephen-mangan-marmite)**, the "Green Wing" and "Episodes" actor, eats it happily on toast, but draws the line at putting marmalade alongside it. - **[Billy Bragg](/articles/billy-bragg-marmite)**, the singer-songwriter, loved it enough to put "Marmite soldiers" into one of his songs. - **[Nigella Lawson](/articles/nigella-lawson-marmite)**, the cook and food writer, likes it so much she built a pasta dish around it. - **[Paul McCartney](/articles/paul-mccartney-marmite)**, the Beatle, builds it into the bottom layer of his elaborate three-decker breakfast bagel. - **[Elton John](/articles/elton-john-marmite)** was outed as a lover when fans spotted his stockpile of jars in an Instagram photo, and went on to put his name to a run of charity jars. ## Which famous people hate Marmite? - **[Graham Norton](/articles/graham-norton-marmite)**, the chat-show host and "Father Ted" star, is firmly a hater, and once described a Eurovision entry as being "like Marmite, if everyone hated Marmite". - **[John Cena](/articles/john-cena-marmite)**, the wrestler turned actor, tried it and decided he was "entitled to hate it". - **[Zach Galifianakis](/articles/zach-galifianakis-marmite)**, the "Hangover" star, met his match in a jar on a transatlantic snack test. - **[Idris Elba](/articles/idris-elba-marmite)** had Marmite served to him as his "Food Hell" on "Saturday Kitchen". - **[Madonna](/articles/madonna-marmite)** said she would do anything for her children, except eat a Marmite sandwich, which she called "vile". - **[Anthony Albanese](/articles/anthony-albanese-marmite)**, the Prime Minister of Australia, is a Vegemite loyalist who dismissed Marmite on the record as "rubbish". - **[Gary Lineker](/articles/gary-lineker-marmite)**, the England striker turned broadcaster, marked the 2016 shortage by tweeting he was "relieved" he does not like it. ## And one who refuses to take sides - **[Ricky Gervais](/articles/ricky-gervais-marmite)**, the comedian, claims no strong feelings either way, and is mostly impressed that one jar can last a family two years. ## More on the way This series is growing. We are working through a longer list of actors and entertainers who have a genuine, on-the-record view of Marmite, and each one gets their own profile. For a quick round-up of a dozen more famous verdicts in one place, see our companion piece, [twelve famous people on the record about Marmite](/articles/marmite-celebrities-twelve-on-the-record-verdicts). ## How we choose who goes in The rule is simple. A person earns a place only if they have genuinely said something about the actual product, that they love it, hate it, eat it or once handed it out in a supermarket. We leave out the people who only ever used "Marmite" as a figure of speech for their own divisive careers, because that tells you nothing about the jar and could be said about almost anyone. The hook has to be real. ## Related reading - [Twelve famous people on the record about Marmite](/articles/marmite-celebrities-twelve-on-the-record-verdicts) - [The "love it or hate it" slogan, and where it came from](/articles/love-it-or-hate-it-marmite-slogan-1996-campaign-history) - [What "a bit Marmite" actually means](/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning) - [Marmite in popular culture](/articles/marmite-popular-culture) - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) - [Why is it called Marmite?](/articles/why-is-marmite-called-marmite) ================================================================================ ## Daniel Craig and Marmite: the James Bond star who was once 'Mr Marmite' - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/daniel-craig-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/daniel-craig-marmite.md - published: 2026-06-11 - document_id: 756 > Before he was James Bond, Daniel Craig handed out samples as 'Mr Marmite' at a Reading supermarket, the job that earned him his Equity card. And despite the rumours, he is a lover: asked his biggest misconception, he chose 'That I don't like Marmite?' Long before he was James Bond, Daniel Craig stood in a cavernous supermarket on the edge of Reading, wearing a Marmite jumper and handing samples to shoppers who mostly wanted to get to the checkout. It is one of the better entries on the long list of odd jobs British actors take before the work arrives, and in Craig's case it is the job that earned him his Equity card. Years later, asked by GQ what the biggest misconception about him was, he answered with a question of his own: "That I don't like Marmite?" This is the story behind that, and the actor it happened to. ## Did Daniel Craig really work as "Mr Marmite"? Yes. As a struggling young actor, Craig took a promotional job for Marmite, spending his shifts in a Marmite jumper and giving out samples of the spread to passing shoppers. He has called it one of the worst jobs he ever had, while allowing there were worse ones, but it mattered for a practical reason: the work earned him his Equity card, the union membership a British actor needed to turn professional. So the man who would become the sixth James Bond owes a small but real debt to a jar of yeast extract. That last part sounds odd until you know how the union worked back then. Until the late 1980s Equity ran what was called a closed shop: you could not get most acting jobs without a card, and you could not get a card without proof of paid professional work. It was a neat trap for anyone starting out. The way through it was not always the stage. Variety turns, holiday-camp entertaining and contracted promotional work all counted, and standing in a supermarket as a costumed "Mr Marmite" was, in the union's eyes, a paid performing engagement rather than a day on the tills. That is almost certainly how the job did its real work. Craig has never spelled out the paperwork, only that it got him his card, but the closed shop is why a Marmite jumper could be a back door into the profession. Craig has remembered it as a "Save-a-Centre" in Reading, and the store he means is almost certainly the SavaCentre at Calcot, on the western edge of the town. SavaCentre was a joint venture between Sainsbury's and British Home Stores, a small chain of vast, American-style hypermarkets, and the Calcot branch was the biggest of the lot. It opened in September 1981 a few hundred yards from junction 12 of the M4, with 81,000 square feet of sales floor, a staff of 867, and a car park for more than 1,300 cars. In other words, exactly the kind of enormous, strip-lit shed where a brand would set up a sampling table and pay a young actor to stand behind it in a jumper. ## Does Daniel Craig actually like Marmite? He does, and he has gone out of his way to correct the record. In a 2011 interview with GQ, asked to name the biggest misconception the media held about him, Craig replied: "That I don't like Marmite?" The line was delivered with a straight face and a wink, the joke being that of all the things written about a famous and famously private actor, the one he chose to push back on was a suggestion that he was a Marmite hater. For a brand built on the idea that you are either a lover or a hater, having Bond quietly file himself under "lover" is no small thing. ## Who is Daniel Craig? Daniel Wroughton Craig was born on 2 March 1968 in Chester. His mother was an art teacher and his father served in the Merchant Navy before becoming a pub landlord. After his parents divorced when he was young, Craig moved with his mother and older sister to the Wirral, growing up around Hoylake and attending school on the peninsula. He was drawn to acting early, joined the National Youth Theatre as a teenager in 1984, and trained at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London from 1988 to 1991. ## Daniel Craig's breakthrough roles Craig spent the 1990s building a reputation as a serious, watchable character actor rather than a star. His breakthrough came on television as Geordie Peacock in the acclaimed BBC drama "Our Friends in the North" in 1996. Film roles followed, including "Elizabeth" in 1998, "Road to Perdition" opposite Tom Hanks in 2002, the British crime film "Layer Cake" in 2004, and Steven Spielberg's "Munich" in 2005. "Layer Cake" in particular put him on the shortlist of names being discussed for a part that would change everything. ## Daniel Craig as James Bond In 2006 Craig took over as James Bond in "Casino Royale", a casting that was doubted loudly in advance and vindicated almost as quickly. His Bond was harder and more bruised than the part had been in years, and more human with it. He went on to play the role across five films over fifteen years: "Casino Royale" in 2006, "Quantum of Solace" in 2008, "Skyfall" in 2012, "Spectre" in 2015, and "No Time to Die" in 2021, which brought his run, and his version of the character, to a definitive close. ## Daniel Craig after Bond Rather than coast on Bond, Craig moved straight into one of the most enjoyable second acts in recent film. He plays the drawling detective Benoit Blanc in Rian Johnson's "Knives Out" films, beginning in 2019 and continuing through "Glass Onion" in 2022 and a third mystery after that, a role that let him show a comic lightness Bond never asked for. He has also kept a foot firmly in theatre, playing Iago in "Othello" on Broadway in 2016 and the title role in "Macbeth" in 2022, and took the lead in the 2024 film "Queer". For an actor who once handed out Marmite samples in a hypermarket off the M4, it is a long way travelled, and he appears to have kept the taste for the spread along the way. ## Daniel Craig's personal life Craig has been married to the actress Rachel Weisz since 2011, and the couple have largely kept their family life out of public view, which fits a man who has never seemed comfortable with the celebrity side of fame. He has a daughter from his first marriage and a daughter with Weisz. That guardedness is part of why the Marmite line in GQ is so telling: it is one of the few personal preferences he has ever volunteered freely, and he used it to set the record straight on a jar of yeast extract rather than on anything weightier. ## Daniel Craig's notable films and TV at a glance - Our Friends in the North (1996, television) - Road to Perdition (2002) - Layer Cake (2004) - Munich (2005) - The James Bond films: Casino Royale (2006), Quantum of Solace (2008), Skyfall (2012), Spectre (2015), No Time to Die (2021) - The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011) - Knives Out (2019) and Glass Onion (2022) as Benoit Blanc - Queer (2024) ## Related reading - [Famous actors on Marmite: the full series](/articles/actors-on-marmite) - [Helen Mirren and Marmite](/articles/helen-mirren-marmite) - [Graham Norton and Marmite](/articles/graham-norton-marmite) - [Twelve famous people on the record about Marmite](/articles/marmite-celebrities-twelve-on-the-record-verdicts) - [The "love it or hate it" slogan, and where it came from](/articles/love-it-or-hate-it-marmite-slogan-1996-campaign-history) - [What "a bit Marmite" actually means](/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning) - [Marmite in popular culture](/articles/marmite-popular-culture) - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) ================================================================================ ## What is the German version of Marmite? Vitam-R, and Switzerland's Cenovis - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/german-version-of-marmite-vitam-r-cenovis - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/german-version-of-marmite-vitam-r-cenovis.md - published: 2026-06-11 - document_id: 753 > The German equivalent of Marmite is Vitam-R, made in Hameln since the 1920s; Switzerland has its own older version, Cenovis. Both are close cousins of the same idea: concentrated yeast, dark and salty, spread thinly on bread. How they compare, and why neither is quite the national icon Marmite is in Britain. The short answer is Vitam-R. If you want the German equivalent of Marmite, it is a yeast extract spread called Vitam-R, made in Hameln and on sale in German health-food shops for the best part of a century. Switzerland has its own, older and more famous version called Cenovis. Neither is a national icon the way Marmite is in Britain, but both are close cousins of the same idea: take spent or whole yeast, concentrate it into a dark salty paste, and spread it thinly on bread. ## Is there a German version of Marmite? Yes. The closest German-made equivalent is Vitam-R, a savoury yeast extract spread (Hefeextrakt in German) produced by Vitam Hefe-Produkt GmbH in Hameln, Lower Saxony. It was first developed in 1925 by Rückforth AG in Stettin, then a German city and now Szczecin in Poland. The timing is no coincidence. It followed the same nineteenth-century discovery by the German chemist Justus von Liebig that made Marmite possible, namely that yeast could be broken down and concentrated into something edible and rich in flavour. Marmite itself is also sold in Germany, mostly as an imported British product in larger supermarkets and online, so a German shopper has both options. But the home-grown one is Vitam-R. ## What is Vitam-R? Vitam-R is a dark, savoury, vegan spread built on yeast extract and a little sea salt. It is sold mainly through Reformhaus health-food shops rather than promoted as a mass-market breakfast staple, which is part of why it is far less famous abroad than Marmite or Vegemite. Germans who grew up with it tend to treat it as a wholesome store-cupboard item rather than a cultural talking point. It still attracts the same split reaction as every other spread in this family. People either take to the concentrated savoury hit or they find it overwhelming, so the love-it-or-hate-it line applies just as well in German. ## How is Vitam-R different from Marmite? The main difference is the yeast. Marmite is built on spent brewer's yeast, the leftover yeast from beer making, which is where its faint malty edge comes from. Vitam-R uses whole baker's yeast cells instead, along with a little sea salt. The result is often described as smoother and slightly less sharp than Marmite, though the family resemblance is obvious to anyone who has eaten both. Both are vegan, both are rich in B vitamins, and both are meant to be spread thinly rather than piled on. ## How I came across Vitam I should declare an interest. I came to Vitam long before I ever thought of writing about it. My Canadian cousin introduced me to it. Her mother had grown up in East Berlin and escaped to the West, and Germany stayed in the family long after she settled in Canada. Whenever she visited, the one thing she always brought back was a jar of Vitam. So it reached our table by way of Berlin and then Canada, rather than from any British shop. For years that was the only way to get it, because Vitam was genuinely hard to find in Britain and a jar was something you stocked up on or had carried over. The internet changed that. The UK distributor is the Essential Trading Co-operative, which sells it under its own label as "formerly Vitam-R", and you can also buy a jar on Amazon without much trouble. My quiet confession, on a site called I Love Marmite: in a lot of situations I prefer Vitam. It is smoother than Marmite, and to my palate it tastes a little meatier and rounder, even though it is completely vegan. Marmite has the sharper, maltier edge. Vitam is the gentler, deeper one. I keep both in the cupboard, and which one I reach for depends on the mood and the meal. ## What is the Swiss version of Marmite? Switzerland's version is Cenovis, a dark brown yeast extract paste that has been made there since 1931. Alongside the yeast extract it contains onions, carrots and spices, which puts it closer to Marmite's actual recipe than Vitam-R is, since modern Marmite also carries a vegetable juice concentrate of carrot and onion. Cenovis is the one most often called "the Swiss Marmite", and it has a small but devoted following. ## Can you buy Marmite in Germany? Yes. Marmite is widely available in Germany as an imported product, both online and in the international or British sections of larger supermarkets. So the practical answer for a Marmite fan in Germany is that you do not have to switch. You can buy the real thing, or you can try the local Vitam-R and Swiss Cenovis to see how the German-speaking world solved the same problem. ## Why is yeast extract so common across Europe? Because the underlying idea came from continental Europe in the first place. Liebig's work in the 1800s showed that yeast, a by-product nobody had much use for, could be turned into a concentrated and nutritious paste. Britain turned that into Marmite in 1902, Switzerland into Cenovis in 1931, Germany into Vitam-R in 1925, and Australia into Vegemite in 1922. They are regional answers to the same starting point, which is why they all taste like variations on a theme. ## Related reading - [Marmite vs Vegemite](/articles/marmite-vs-vegemite) - [Marmite vs Bovril](/articles/marmite-vs-bovril) - [Marmite's global variations](/articles/marmite-global-variations) - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) - [Why does Marmite taste like that?](/articles/why-does-marmite-taste-like-that) ================================================================================ ## Margaret Thatcher: the original Marmite, before Marmite meant that - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/margaret-thatcher-marmite-politician - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/margaret-thatcher-marmite-politician.md - published: 2026-06-11 - document_id: 679 > People say Margaret Thatcher loved Marmite. There is no real evidence she ever ate it, her documented diet was grapefruit, eggs, lamb and whisky. The closest she came was a surprise 1992 visit to Marston's brewery in Burton-on-Trent, whose spent yeast feeds the Marmite factory next door. The genuine link, though, runs the other way: she is the figure 'a bit Marmite' was practically invented to describe. The claim arrives the way these claims always do, second-hand and confident: Margaret Thatcher loved Marmite. It is a good line, because it sounds right. Of course the most divisive figure in modern British politics ate the most divisive thing in the British cupboard. The two belong together so neatly that the fact feels as though it ought to be true. I went looking for the jar, and it is not there. ## What she actually ate Thatcher's diet is unusually well documented, because she left an enormous archive and because a Prime Minister's habits get written down. The picture is consistent across all of it. Breakfast was grapefruit and one or two eggs, with black coffee or weak tea, and no cereal. Before the 1979 election she went on a now-notorious egg-heavy regime, the Mayo Clinic diet, and got through something like twenty-eight eggs a week trying to lose weight for the steps of Number 10. Lunch and dinner ran to lamb, roast beef, fish, salad, the occasional gooseberry soufflé. The reconstructed contents of her larder, pieced together from archive photographs, are tins of Heinz baked beans, salmon, corned beef, peaches and gooseberries. Her one real indulgence was whisky, Glenmorangie and Glenlivet, a late glass with soda in the bad nights of the Falklands. Nowhere in any of it is there a jar of Marmite. Not in the biographies, not in Carol Thatcher's memoir, not in the household records, not in a single sourced anecdote. The most thorough catalogues of what the woman put in her mouth simply do not include it. On the evidence, she was a grapefruit-and-eggs person who would probably have regarded a spoonful of yeast extract as a waste of a perfectly good piece of toast. So the popular version, that she loved the stuff, looks like a myth. Why does a myth that wrong stick so well? ## The closest she ever got She never set foot in the Marmite factory. But she came within a brewery wall of it once, and probably did not know or even care. In the run-up to the 1992 election she made a surprise visit to Marston's Brewery in Burton-on-Trent, campaigning for the local Conservative MP Ivan Lawrence. It is in the Burton papers, and the local Sentinel still has the footage of the Iron Lady being walked round the vats. A standard bit of campaign theatre, a brewery in a marginal, a photo opportunity with the workforce. Marmite is made from the spent yeast left over from brewing beer, and it has been scraped out of Burton's breweries since 1902, Bass's at first, with Marston's among the breweries that keep the factory fed today. Something like fifty thousand tonnes of brewer's yeast goes through the Marmite gates in Burton every year, most of it from a short drive away. The yeast in the vats Margaret Thatcher was shown round in 1992 was, in the most literal sense available, raw Marmite, and it is a safe bet nobody on the tour thought to mention it. She saw the front end of the supply chain, shook the hands, and went home. One step from the jar, as ever, and never quite touching it. The brewery she dropped in on for votes later got its own Marmite, as well. In 2009, yeast from Marston's Pedigree, the ale, went into a limited-edition Pedigree Marmite in a jar shaped like a red cricket ball, half a million of them, timed for the Ashes. Marston's turned out to be not just a supplier to Marmite but a collaborator with it. Thatcher had been and gone seventeen years earlier, one brewery tour short of the connection everyone now assumes she had. For the full story of [why Marmite is made in Burton in the first place](/articles/why-marmite-is-made-in-burton-brewing-capital), that has a piece of its own. ## The link runs the other way Thatcher is not remembered as a woman who loved Marmite. She is remembered as a woman who was Marmite. She is, arguably, the original. When people reach for something to explain what "a bit Marmite" means, she is the example that needs no explaining. This is not a stretch invented after the fact. It was the standard shorthand for her in life and especially in death. The Welsh first minister Rhodri Morgan, among many others, called her a "Marmite" figure, and the obituaries in 2013 were thick with the comparison: love her or hate her, you could not be neutral, the same way nobody is neutral about the jar. The phrase did a particular job. It let people who hated her, and people who revered her, agree on one thing, that she provoked, that she was never bland, that indifference was the one response she never got. The cleverest use of it came from the Guardian, which marked her death in 2013 with an advert built entirely on the parallel. It put her on a real Marmite jar, the famous bulbous shape and the yellow lid, the label restyled in the genuine red-and-blue oval but reading MARGARET, with her dates, 1925 to 2013, a small photograph of her where the spoonful of spread usually sits, and the line CONTAINS IRON. Underneath, the only caption it needed: "One woman, a nation divided". It was trailing the paper's coverage, a Posy Simmonds piece on Thatcher's life that weekend, and it did the whole job in one image. The love-it-or-hate-it spread, the Iron Lady, and a nation split down the middle, with nothing to explain. That is how completely the equation of Thatcher and Marmite had settled into the national shorthand by the time she died. ## She was Marmite before Marmite was The dates make the comparison stranger still. Marmite did not sell itself on being divisive until 1996, the year the advertising team at BMP DDB coined "you either love it or hate it" and built the whole modern identity of the brand around the half of the country that could not stand the taste. But the word had slipped its jar even before that. We did the digging on this in [a separate piece](/articles/gregor-fisher-original-marmite-man), and the earliest recorded use of "Marmite" as an adjective, the one the Oxford English Dictionary actually cites, is from 1994: a Sandwell Evening Mail review calling Gregor Fisher's Rab C Nesbitt "the Marmite man of comedy". Two years before the famous slogan, a string-vested Glaswegian drunk was already the thing you either loved or could not stand. You can almost date British divisiveness the way historians date everything else, before and after a fixed point. Call it Before Nesbitt and After Nesbitt if you like, because the dictionary does. And by that reckoning Thatcher is firmly BN. She left office in 1990, four years before the word was first written down as an adjective and six before the slogan made it a national reflex. She had been the most polarising figure in the country for over a decade before "Marmite" meant any of this. Which raises a genuine chicken-and-egg question. When a sub-editor in Sandwell reached in 1994 for a single word that meant splits-the-room, and when the copywriters reached for the same idea two years later, the most complete example of that thing in living British memory was already sitting there, fresh, enormous, and named Margaret. It is not provable that she shaped the metaphor. But she is the purest specimen of what the metaphor describes, she got there first, and the word arrived afterwards to fit a shape British public life already knew. So the spread did not lend its divisiveness to her. If anything it was the other way round. By the time Marmite started selling itself on being loved and hated in equal measure, the country had already spent the eighties learning exactly what that felt like. ## Why the myth attaches anyway Which brings it back to the jar that was never there. The reason people are so ready to believe Thatcher loved Marmite is that the association is real, it is just an association of character rather than appetite. The divisive figure attracts the divisive condiment. It feels like it must have been literal, because the metaphor is so exact that a coincidence of taste would be almost too perfect, and the mind quietly upgrades the metaphor into a fact. It is a small lesson in how these stories form. A true thing, that Thatcher was the human embodiment of love-it-or-hate-it, hardens over time into a false but tidier thing, that she sat down and ate it. The truth is better, and a little colder, like the woman. She did not love Marmite. She was Marmite, and she was it before the jar ever claimed the word. For the 1994 Rab C Nesbitt citation that the dictionary actually rests on, see our piece on [Gregor Fisher, the original Marmite man](/articles/gregor-fisher-original-marmite-man). For how "a bit Marmite" became a phrase the OED now recognises, there is [the piece on the meaning](/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning), and for the 1996 campaign that turned it into a national reflex, the [love-it-or-hate-it slogan has its own history](/articles/love-it-or-hate-it-marmite-slogan-1996-campaign-history). ================================================================================ ## What is Marmite? A plain-English guide to Britain's most divisive spread - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/what-is-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/what-is-marmite.md - published: 2026-06-11 - document_id: 92 > Marmite is a dark, salty British spread made from spent brewer's yeast, first produced in Burton-on-Trent in 1902. A plain-English guide to what it is, what it tastes like, what actually goes in the jar, and why the country has never agreed on it. Marmite is a thick, dark brown savoury spread made from yeast extract. It is a British food, first made in Burton-on-Trent in 1902, and it is eaten mostly at breakfast, spread thinly on buttered toast. It is famous for two things: an intense, salty, savoury flavour, and a marketing line that turned out to be simply true, that you either love it or hate it. This page is the short version, with links to the detail if you want to go deeper. ## What is Marmite? Marmite is a yeast extract spread, which means its main ingredient is the concentrated, broken-down remains of yeast. That base is dark, salty and packed with the savoury taste called umami. It is sold in a distinctive round jar with a yellow lid, has been certified vegan friendly for years, and is naturally rich in B vitamins. A little goes a long way, which is the single most useful thing to know before you try it. It is owned today by Unilever and made in Burton-on-Trent, the same Staffordshire brewing town where it started, because the original recipe used the spent yeast left over from the town's breweries. ## What it is made of The full ingredients list is short: yeast extract, salt, a little vegetable juice concentrate, spice extracts, added B vitamins and natural flavourings. That is unusually simple for a modern food, and most of those ingredients are doing more than one job. For the full breakdown, see [what Marmite is actually made of](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of). ## What it tastes like Marmite is intensely savoury and salty, with a dark, malty, faintly bitter edge. It is closer to a concentrated stock than to a mild spread, which is exactly why it divides people. There is a fuller explanation of [why Marmite tastes the way it does](/articles/why-does-marmite-taste-like-that). ## What is Marmite used for? Most people eat Marmite spread thinly on hot buttered toast, but it has a second life as a cooking ingredient. Because it is concentrated umami, a small spoonful deepens the savoury flavour of stews, gravies, pasta sauces, roast potatoes and cheese dishes. Chefs use it the way they would use a stock cube or a dash of soy sauce. So it is both a breakfast spread and a flavour booster, and the cooking use has grown a lot in recent years. ## Where it comes from Marmite was first produced in 1902 by the Marmite Food Extract Company, set up next to Bass Brewery in Burton-on-Trent to use the brewery's surplus yeast. The name comes from a French cooking pot, the marmite, which is why early jars were pot-shaped and why the pot still appears on the label. The full story is in [the history of Marmite](/articles/why-is-marmite-called-marmite). ## Why "love it or hate it"? The phrase started as an advertising campaign in 1996 and stuck because it is accurate. Marmite's flavour is so concentrated that there is very little middle ground, and there are genuine genetic differences in how strongly people taste the bitter and savoury notes. The result is that the same jar reads as delicious to one person and unbearable to the next, and "a bit Marmite" has since entered everyday English as shorthand for anything that splits opinion. ## Related reading - [What is Marmite actually made of?](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of) - [Why does Marmite taste like that?](/articles/why-does-marmite-taste-like-that) - [Is Marmite good for you?](/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer) - [How to eat Marmite on toast](/articles/how-to-eat-marmite-on-toast) - [Who owns Marmite?](/articles/who-owns-marmite) - [Why is it called Marmite?](/articles/why-is-marmite-called-marmite) - [Is Marmite British?](/articles/is-marmite-british) - [The "love it or hate it" slogan, and where it came from](/articles/love-it-or-hate-it-marmite-slogan-1996-campaign-history) ================================================================================ ## The royal crest on a biscuit tin in Guangzhou: how fake 'By Appointment' warrants spread abroad - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/fake-royal-warrants-overseas-counterfeit-crest - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/fake-royal-warrants-overseas-counterfeit-crest.md - published: 2026-06-07 - document_id: 678 > The British royal coat of arms is one of the most copied marks of trust in the world, and much of that copying happens far from Britain, on products that never went near a palace. Why a royal crest is worth faking abroad, the international law meant to stop it, and why enforcement is so patchy the fakes keep coming. The painted crest over a butcher's door in Norfolk is the easy fake to police, because the door is in Norfolk. Someone notices, a letter arrives, the crest comes down. The harder problem, and the one that has quietly grown into the bigger headache, is the royal coat of arms that turns up on a tin of biscuits in a market in Guangzhou, a bottle of "English" gin distilled nowhere near England, or a tea brand that has never sold a single leaf to anyone royal. I wrote [a longer piece about what a royal warrant actually is and how Marmite won one and then lost it](/articles/royal-warrant-marmite-by-appointment-explained). This is the offshoot of that, about the version of the warrant that nobody granted at all. ## Why the crest is worth stealing A royal warrant, the genuine article, is a mark of recognition that lets a company display the Royal Arms and the words "By Appointment" because it has really supplied the Royal Household for years. What it signals to a customer is quality, heritage and a quiet nod from the palace. That signal is valuable in Britain. It is arguably more valuable abroad, in markets where "British" already means premium and where the buyer has no way to check whether the nod from the palace ever happened. That is the whole temptation. The arms are prestigious, instantly recognisable, and free to copy. Stick them on a label aimed at a shopper on the other side of the world and you borrow centuries of accumulated trust for the cost of the ink. The product underneath might be made anywhere, by anyone, to any standard. The crest does the lying for you. ## The law against it is global, on paper The surprising part is that the Royal Arms are protected almost everywhere, not just at home. Under Article 6ter of the Paris Convention, an intellectual-property treaty that dates back to 1883 and has most trading nations signed up to it, the armorial bearings of reigning houses count as a protected state emblem. Member countries are obliged to refuse, and to cancel, any trademark that contains those arms or a heraldic imitation of them, whoever is doing the applying. In principle a company in any member state simply cannot register the British Royal Arms as part of its own brand. At home the teeth are sharper still. Under section 4 of the Trade Marks Act 1994 you cannot register a mark containing the royal arms, the crown, or words implying royal patronage without consent. And under section 99 of the same Act it is a criminal offence to use the Royal Arms in connection with a business in a way calculated to lead people to believe you are authorised when you are not. That is the statutory back-stop behind every "take the crest down" letter. So on paper, the fake "By Appointment" tin should be impossible. In practice it is everywhere. Why? ## A treaty is only as good as its enforcement The gap is simple. The right exists everywhere; the enforcement is concentrated wherever the palace can actually reach. The Crown cannot police every market stall and every trademark registry on earth. What it does instead is run a quiet, permanent monitoring operation. The Lord Chamberlain's office and the Crown's lawyers watch trademark filings around the world and object to the ones that cross the line. It is the same machinery that handles the cheeky applications at home, and it is surprisingly willing to use it. When a former butler to the then Prince Charles tried to register "The Royal Butler" as a trademark for an etiquette business, the Lord Chamberlain opposed the application on the Queen's behalf. It was refused, with costs awarded against him, on the grounds that customers would assume a royal authorisation that did not exist. The same instinct killed the "Sussex Royal" trademark that the Duke and Duchess of Sussex tried to register after stepping back from royal duties. If the household will go to the tribunal over its own former staff, and over its own departing family, you can imagine how it feels about a factory abroad printing the actual coat of arms on a biscuit tin. The trouble is reach. Opposing a filing in London or another major registry is one thing. Chasing a counterfeit crest through a market in a jurisdiction where nobody local is checking, and where the cost of acting exceeds the harm of any single fake, is another. So the fakes survive in exactly those corners: the grey markets, the export-only product lines, the websites that exist for a season and vanish. They keep going until the volume gets large enough to be worth a lawyer's letter, and then a new one starts somewhere else. ## The Marmite angle There is a small irony here for anyone who follows Marmite. Marmite held a genuine royal warrant from 2016, lost it when Queen Elizabeth II died in 2022, and was quietly left off King Charles's new list in December 2024 when Unilever was dropped. So the real thing no longer carries a real warrant. Which makes Marmite precisely the kind of name a counterfeiter loves: a trusted British brand, globally recognised, with a genuine royal association in living memory that most shoppers half-remember and could not date. The crest on a fake jar would do its work on the strength of that half-memory alone. The genuine "By Appointment" Marmite, the jubilee jars that really were entitled to the wording, is now the rarer object. The fake version of a thing often outlives the real one, and the royal crest, being both prestigious and free to copy, is one of counterfeiting's oldest and favourite targets. For the full story of the warrant system, how a business earns one, and how Marmite won and lost its own, see [the companion piece](/articles/royal-warrant-marmite-by-appointment-explained). And for where the brand itself is heading next, the McCormick deal that is moving Marmite out of Unilever's hands is [covered separately](/articles/who-owns-marmite). ================================================================================ ## By Appointment: the fascinating story of what a royal warrant really is, and how Marmite won one and lost it - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/royal-warrant-marmite-by-appointment-explained - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/royal-warrant-marmite-by-appointment-explained.md - published: 2026-06-06 - document_id: 677 > A royal warrant is the little coat of arms in the shop window with the words 'By Appointment'. Marmite earned its own in 2016, lost it when Queen Elizabeth II died, and was quietly dropped from King Charles's list in December 2024. What a warrant actually is, how a business wins and loses one, and why the system has spent nearly two centuries chasing fakes, told from a walk away from Sandringham. I grew up a walk from Sandringham, and the royal crests were just part of the furniture in my areas. A butcher, a garage, a fishmonger (Albert Balls in Kings Lynn, his crest was HUGE above his shop door), a nursery, all with the same small painted coat of arms in the window and the words "By Appointment" underneath. Nobody ever explained them. You absorbed that they meant something, that the shop was a cut above in some way to do with the big house up the road, and you left it there. It was years before I understood that the crest in the window is one of the oldest pieces of commercial recognition in the country, that it is fiercely policed, and that you can lose it. Marmite is a neat way in, because Marmite is one of the few brands that won a royal warrant, kept it for a while, and has now had it taken away, all within about a decade. Warrant, Sandringham and Marmite together, then, starting with what the crest in the window actually means. ## What a royal warrant is A royal warrant is a formal mark of recognition granted to a company that has supplied goods or services to the Royal Household. It is not a prize for being good, and you cannot buy one or apply cold. You have to have actually supplied the household, for real, for a sustained period, before you are even allowed to put your name forward. What the warrant gives you is the right to display the Royal Arms and the words "By Appointment to..." on your premises, your letterhead and your products, naming which member of the royal family granted it and saying, in the prescribed wording, what you supply. That is the crest in the local Norfolk shop windows. It is, in the old phrase, "a peerage for trade", and it has been worth chasing for that reason since at least the eighteenth century, when the likes of Wedgwood pursued royal recognition for the prestige it carried. There are roughly 750 warrant holders at any one time, holding around 800 warrants between them. Some are household names. Many are exactly the kind of local supplier I grew up seeing: the firm that does the estate's fencing, the one that services the cars, the nursery that supplies the plants. ## How you actually get one The bar is supply, not flattery. Under the rules, a company has to have supplied goods or services to the Royal Household for at least five years before it can apply. Real trade, real invoices, an actual ongoing relationship. After that, the path runs through the household itself. A buyer or department recommends the company. The application goes to the Royal Household Warrants Committee, which is chaired by the Lord Chamberlain, the most senior officer of the household. The committee reviews it, and the grantor, currently the King or the Queen, makes the final decision. A warrant is granted for up to five years at a time and is then reviewed again, so it is not a one-off honour but a relationship that has to be kept up. The Lord Chamberlain's office is the engine room of all this. It runs the committee, it interprets the rules, and it is the body that companies answer to on how the arms may be used. The phrase "the Lord Chamberlain's Rules" is the everyday law of the warrant world. ## The bit that surprises people: it dies with the monarch A warrant belongs to the person who granted it, not to the Crown as an institution, and it does not pass automatically to the next monarch. When the grantor dies, the warrant becomes void. In practice the holder is given a wind-down period of about two years in which it may still display the arms while it sorts out whether it will be re-granted by the successor. This is the single fact that explains most of what happened to Marmite, so hold on to it: warrants do not survive the monarch who gave them. Everyone has to reapply to the new reign, and not everyone gets back on the list. ## Marmite's warrant, won and lost The Queen was, by repeated report, a Marmite person. That is the hook every "Ma'amite" jubilee jar leaned on, and I have written about [those jars separately](/articles/maamite-platinum-jubilee-2022). But the warrant is a different and more formal thing than a known fondness, and Marmite's own warrant arrived later than you might think. Unilever, Marmite's owner, has carried a corporate royal warrant going back to 1929, covering food and household products across its range. Marmite itself was added to that roll in 2016, when it was granted a warrant in its own right, reportedly the seventh Unilever product to hold one. The brand was pleased enough to say so out loud. "We're especially pleased that Marmite's 'love it' fan club now has Royal recognition," its brand marketing manager said at the time. That is why the genuine "By Appointment" wording turned up on the neck tag of the commemorative jars: by then Marmite was entitled to it. Then the rule about death did its work. Queen Elizabeth II died in September 2022, and every warrant she had granted, Marmite's included, became void and entered the two-year wind-down. Companies had to reapply to King Charles III, whose own list opened in 2024. In December 2024 the new list landed, and Marmite was not on it. King Charles dropped Unilever entirely, the parent company and its brands with it, in the same round that removed Cadbury after roughly 170 years of royal supply. Reporting at the time linked the Unilever decision to questions around the company rather than the spread, and the official line on losing a warrant is always carefully neutral: it is not necessarily a snub, since firms may not have reapplied, may have stopped supplying, or may have been deferred. But the plain outcome is that, as of the King's list, Marmite no longer carries a royal warrant. It held one for about eight years, lost it the moment the reign that granted it ended, and did not make the cut for the next. So the honest current answer to "does Marmite have a royal warrant" is no, not any more. ## Why the system spends so much effort chasing fakes What I never understood as a child squinting at shop windows is why the crest meant anything at all. It means something because an entire apparatus exists to stop people faking it. The Royal Warrant Holders Association was founded in 1840, and a large part of its original purpose was precisely to prevent fraudulent claims of royal patronage. By the Victorian period the prestige of the arms had become valuable enough that traders were tempted to simply paint a crest over the door and imply a connection that did not exist. Putting royal arms on your business when you have no warrant, or falsely claiming to be "By Appointment", is an offence, and has been since the nineteenth century. The Merchandise Marks Act 1887 sits behind that prohibition, and modern Trading Standards officers can act against a business that misuses the arms in the same way they act against other forms of false trade description. In practice, the enforcement is mostly quiet. You do not find a steady stream of dramatic court cases about painted-on crests. What you find is a system that leans on cease-and-desist: the association and the Lord Chamberlain's office notice the misuse, and the business is told to take the crest down, and it does, because the alternative is genuine legal trouble and the kind of publicity nobody wants. The official guidance on use of the Royal Arms spells out who may use them and how, and the threat behind it is real enough that it rarely has to be tested in front of a judge. The more visible end of enforcement is not the fakes but the falls from grace, where a genuine holder loses a warrant it really had. Two cases tell the story. Harrods held royal warrants from 1910, and they were withdrawn in 2001 amid the long feud between its then owner Mohamed Al-Fayed and the royal family, with the store stripping the crests from its frontage. And Rigby and Peller, who had supplied the Queen with lingerie for decades, lost a warrant held for more than half a century in 2018 after its former owner published a memoir touching on her dealings with the household. A warrant can be withdrawn at any time, and bringing the royal family into disrepute is the surest way to lose one. ## The fakes that live abroad The painted-crest-over-a-Norfolk-door problem is the easy one to police, because the door is in Norfolk. The harder problem is the royal crest that turns up on a tin of biscuits in a market the other side of the world, on products that have never gone near a palace. The arms are protected almost everywhere on paper, through an old international treaty as well as British law, but a treaty is only as good as each country's willingness to enforce it, and the Palace cannot be everywhere at once. That mismatch, between a right that exists globally and an enforcement that is concentrated wherever the Crown can actually reach, is why the fake "By Appointment" line keeps surviving in the grey markets. I have written about [the overseas counterfeit crest, and how the household polices it, in a separate piece](/articles/fake-royal-warrants-overseas-counterfeit-crest). ## The Sandringham footnote The local angle I grew up inside turns out to be a formal thing. The national association has regional branches, and one of them is the Sandringham Association of Royal Warrant Holders, founded in 1979, with over a hundred member firms that supply the household. It exists to keep up the relationship between the warrant holders and the Sandringham estate and to hold local business and social events for them. So those crests in the shop windows around the estate and local area were never random. They were the visible edge of an organised body of local suppliers, the genuine article, the ones who had actually done the five years and more of real supply and earned the right to the arms over the door. Which, now that I know what the crest costs to win and how easily it is lost, makes me look at the empty hooks differently too. Somewhere out there is a Marmite neck tag with a "By Appointment" line on it that, as of 2024, the brand can no longer print. For the wider Marmite ownership picture behind all this, including the McCormick deal now moving the brand out of Unilever's hands entirely, see the companion piece on [who owns Marmite](/articles/who-owns-marmite). And for the jubilee jars that wore the warrant while it lasted, the [Ma'amite story](/articles/maamite-platinum-jubilee-2022) is its own small object lesson in how fast a royal seal can turn from a celebration into a full stop. ================================================================================ ## Dirk Gently would choose Marmite, says Douglas Adams - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-adams-dirk-gently-bovril-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-adams-dirk-gently-bovril-marmite.md - published: 2026-06-05 - document_id: 748 > I put Douglas Adams back in front of the Marmite Mnemonicon and asked about Dirk Gently. The holistic detective, faced with a jar of Marmite and a jar of Bovril, chooses Marmite, justifying it through the fundamental interconnectedness of all things, beer, and fermentation. Then Adams plots a Dirk Gently story in which Bovril is transmuted into Marmite and only Dirk can work out why. ## A case for the holistic detective I had Douglas Adams in front of the Marmite Mnemonicon once before, on Towel Day, and he spent most of it talking about everything adjacent to Marmite rather than Marmite itself. This time I wanted to put the question to one of his characters instead. Not Adams's own breakfast habits, but his strangest creation: Dirk Gently, the holistic detective who solves cases by assuming that everything is connected to everything else. If anyone could turn a choice between two brown spreads into a cosmic event, it is him. A reminder of how the Mnemonicon works. Each question goes through twice, once in grounded mode, where the cabinet answers only from what Adams actually wrote, and once in hypothesised mode, where it extrapolates in his voice and flags the speculation. Sedasoft's siteengine_ai does the thinking; the brass-and-velvet box on my Norfolk shelf is the part I built. Editor's note at the bottom, as always. --- ## The interview **Me:** Before we get anywhere near Marmite, Dirk Gently. For anyone who hasn't met him, who is he, and how does he actually work? **DNA:** Dirk Gently, whose full name is Svlad Cjelli, is a decidedly unconventional detective, and an improbable one at that. He operates on the premise of the fundamental interconnectedness of all things, which means he believes every trivial detail is somehow linked to a larger cosmic story, however implausible that sounds. It lets him wander off into the most colourful tangents while purportedly solving a case, often using methods most people would call eccentric. He might link a missing cat to a case of time travel, or, more likely, to a ridiculous bill for expenses incurred while investigating it. His approach is not what you find in the typical detective novel. Dirk does not rely on linear reasoning or the classic gather-the-clues-and-deduce method. He embraces chaos, on the belief that the apparent randomness of life holds the secret to solving the crime. That leads him to find connections in the unlikeliest places, plucking at threads nobody else can see. In *Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency* he treats the interconnectedness of all things as a philosophical lens for examining a mystery, which produces some astonishingly improbable claims, such as the urgent need for a trip to the Bahamas on the grounds that it somehow relates to the case. The truth, of course, is usually less about the case and more about his desire to escape the drudgery. He sees the universe as a web of connected phenomena, which makes every ordinary detail potentially significant, even when the wild theory involves a talking toaster or a cat's lost collar. **Me:** Good. Now the question I brought you here for. Forget your own taste. Faced with a jar of Marmite and a jar of Bovril, which would Dirk choose, and how would he justify it? **DNA:** *(Mnemonicon, speculation mode)* Dirk would regard the choice not as a culinary dilemma but as a profound philosophical conundrum, one that encapsulates the very fabric of the universe. After a long pause, the sort that would bemuse everyone else in the room, he would announce, with supreme certainty, that he would choose Marmite. The justification would run along the lines of the fundamental interconnectedness of all things. He would point out that Marmite, being a by-product of brewing, is intrinsically linked to the whole universe of fermented things, including beer, which has played a rather important role in human civilisation. It is all about connections, you see. The thought of beer would then leap, like an excitable kangaroo, from one idea to the next: occasions in history where sharing a beer led to the signing of treaties and the founding of alliances, and very probably that time he spilled some on the fabric of space-time while trying to fix his time machine, which obviously ties in with the nuances of causality. Bovril, lovely though it is, he would dismiss as merely a comforting broth, lacking the wealth of connections Marmite offers. Choosing Marmite, he would conclude, is not about taste at all. It is about embracing our past, our choices, and every tiny misadventure that brought us to this moment of indecision in front of the two jars. The whole thing would end on a note of whimsy that left everyone wondering whether to begin a serious discussion on the intergalactic implications of yeast, or simply have some toast. **Me:** Marmite it is, then, and the Hate Party can take that up with your detective. Now earn it. Give me a Dirk Gently story where that choice actually matters: Bovril transmuted into Marmite, and only Dirk can work out why. **DNA:** *(Mnemonicon, speculation mode)* It starts innocuously, as these things do, in a quaint café in Camden, where a disgruntled customer reports that his Bovril has inexplicably turned into Marmite right in front of him. The proprietor has no idea how, beyond a vague suspicion that his supply chain is as tangled as a cat in a ball of yarn. Dirk, who happens to be working through a slice of toast at the time, because one must never neglect the toast, is approached by the bewildered customer. On the promise of a free and probably over-brewed cup of tea, he takes the case, seeing in it a fine chance to explore a genuine culinary enigma. The investigation winds through a series of absurdities. He interviews a talkative beetroot farmer who insists the whole thing is a government plot to make people prefer one spread over the other, a theory Dirk nearly believes until he notices how much of his own product the farmer has been drinking. He wanders off into as much quantum physics as a man can manage during a lunch rush, proposing that the act of spreading Bovril and Marmite connects them at a subatomic level, and that in a parallel universe they may be one and the same. His long-suffering assistant Richard is, as usual, confounded. Things escalate at a symposium on condiment philosophy, held in the determinedly mundane lecture hall of a community centre, where a roomful of eccentric thinkers air their theories, including a man convinced that every time somebody chooses Marmite over Bovril, a butterfly in South America flaps its wings and causes a small local weather event. With each daft connection, Dirk starts to see the threads weave together. The breakfast choices are not trivial at all; they resonate through the universe in unpredictable ways. The cause, he eventually discovers, is an ancient culinary spell miscast by overenthusiastic bakers at the bakery next door, an unlucky alignment of condiments and cosmic energies. In a suitably comic twist, he ends the pandemonium by hosting a combined tossing of both spreads, letting the interconnectedness of all things work its charm. The patrons join in and produce a Marmite-Bovril hybrid dedicated to harmony between the two, and, much to everyone's surprise, it turns out not half bad. As Dirk sips his oddly named concoction, he muses that it is all about connections. One man's Bovril is another's Marmite, and if that does not express universal interconnectedness, nothing ever will. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see the introduction piece. The short version: it is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, trained on the published writings and recordings of a roster of dead authors. The first answer, on who Dirk Gently is and how he works, is grounded, drawn from *Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency*. Everything after that, Dirk's preference for Marmite and the entire short story, is hypothesised: written in Adams's voice, invented on the spot, and flagged as such. Richard MacDuff really is Dirk's reluctant associate in the novel; the beetroot farmer and the condiment symposium are not. Nothing here should be cited as having been said by the real Douglas Adams. It is what a careful machine, trained on his papers, says in his voice when you press it, with the speculation marked honestly. A small confession on method. This was one of the first interviews run through a new piece of plumbing, a Marmite tool server that lets the cabinet be questioned directly, which is why the tangents you have just read, the beetroot farmer, the kangaroo, the butterfly, all grew out of one threaded conversation rather than three separate ones. Dirk would approve. Everything connected to everything else. ================================================================================ ## The internet was arguing about Marmite in 1985 - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-love-hate-usenet-1985 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-love-hate-usenet-1985.md - published: 2026-06-03 - document_id: 675 > We treat 'love it or hate it' as if the 1996 advert invented it. The OED traces Marmite to a 1985 post on a Usenet cooking group explaining the jar to Americans: people fall into two groups, those who love it and those who would not stay in the same room as it. The divide, online, eleven years early. We treat "love it or hate it" as if Marmite's advertising people invented it in 1996. They did not. They found it lying around. Nine years before the advert, and nine years before the dictionary would call Marmite an adjective, somebody had already typed the whole idea out, in full, on the early internet. When the Oxford English Dictionary traces the word "Marmite", one of the messages it cites was posted to a Usenet group called net.cooks on 9 April 1985. Here is the line: "Marmite, for those people who have not had the joy/sorrow to taste it, is a yeast extract... People who have tasted it fall into two groups; those who fall in love with it and those who wouldn't even stay in the same room as a bottle of it." That is 1985. Before the web. Before most people had an email address. The love-it-or-hate-it split, "joy/sorrow", "fall in love", "wouldn't even stay in the same room as a bottle of it", already the first thing anyone thought to say about the jar. ## net.cooks, and explaining Marmite to Americans A word about where this turned up. net.cooks was an early Usenet newsgroup, a text-only forum from the days before the web, started in Berkeley in 1982 by a man named Steve Upstill. It became rec.food.cooking in the great Usenet rename of 1986, but in April 1985 it was still net.cooks, and a good chunk of its readers were American. So picture it. Some Marmite-literate soul, a Brit or an expat, sat at a terminal in 1985, patiently explaining to a room full of Americans what this brown stuff is. And the explanation they reach for is not the ingredients, or the history, or the B vitamins. It is the divide. You will love it or you will leave the room. The thing that defines Marmite, even to a stranger, even in 1985, is that it splits people clean down the middle. I have a soft spot for this one. I was born American and have lived here since I was two, which means I have spent a lifetime watching American relatives treat the jar like a minor biohazard. The "joy/sorrow" framing is exactly right. There is no neutral way in. ## The brand did not start the argument, it joined it This is the bit worth holding onto. By the time the famous campaign arrived in 1996 with "you either love it or hate it," the country, and apparently a fair slice of the American internet, had been saying that for over a decade. The slogan was not a clever invention. It was a clever bit of listening. The advertisers noticed what people already said about Marmite and put it on a poster, which is a different and harder skill than it looks. The dictionary backs this up at every turn. Marmite the product has been in the OED since 1902. Marmite the adjective, the "a bit Marmite" sense, [traces to a 1994 newspaper review of Rab C Nesbitt](/articles/gregor-fisher-original-marmite-man). And the love-hate framing in plain words goes back at least to this net.cooks post in 1985. Three different decades, one idea that never changes: nobody is indifferent. There is more on the dictionary side of it in [a bit Marmite](/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning). ## Some things do not change What gets me is how little the argument has moved. Swap the green-screen terminal for a phone and that 1985 post would sail straight onto r/marmite tomorrow without anyone blinking. "For those who have not had the joy/sorrow to taste it". Forty years on, that is still about the most honest sentence anyone has written about the stuff. The internet has argued about a great many things since 1985. There is something quietly cheering in the fact that one of its very first food fights, before the web, before the slogan, before the dictionary caught up, was about whether Marmite is wonderful or whether you should leave the room. It was both, obviously. It always has been. ================================================================================ ## Who owns Marmite? (and who will after the McCormick deal) - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/who-owns-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/who-owns-marmite.md - published: 2026-05-31 - document_id: 501 > Marmite is owned by Unilever, and has been for years. In March 2026 Unilever agreed to sell its food business, Marmite included, to the American firm McCormick, a deal set to complete around mid-2027. Until it closes, Marmite remains a Unilever brand. Marmite is owned by Unilever, the Anglo-Dutch consumer-goods company behind dozens of household names. That is the answer today. The reason the question keeps being asked is that it is about to change: in March 2026 Unilever agreed to sell its food business, with Marmite in it, to the American company McCormick. The deal is set to complete around mid-2027, and until it closes Marmite is still a Unilever brand. So the honest, up-to-date answer is: Unilever owns it now, McCormick has agreed to buy it, and the handover has not happened yet. ## Who owns it right now Unilever. Marmite sits in Unilever's food portfolio alongside the other big British store-cupboard names it owns, including Hellmann's, Knorr, Bovril and Colman's. It is still made where it has always been made, at the factory in Burton-on-Trent, from brewer's yeast. ## Who is buying it McCormick and Company, the American firm best known on this side of the pond for spices and seasonings, the little jars in the back of the cupboard. On 31 March 2026, McCormick and Unilever announced that McCormick would acquire Unilever's food business. The deal is worth roughly $45 billion, or about £33.5 billion in sterling, and is structured so that Unilever's own shareholders end up holding a majority of the combined company, around 55 per cent. It is a genuinely huge deal, and it sweeps up a lot of the British pantry in one go: Marmite, Bovril, Colman's, Hellmann's and Knorr all move under the same new American owner. ## When does it actually change hands? Not yet. The deal was agreed in March 2026 but has not completed. Completion is targeted for around the middle of 2027, subject to the usual regulatory approvals. Until that point, nothing about the ownership has changed in practice: Marmite remains a Unilever product, made in Burton, to the same recipe. This is the bit the headlines tend to blur. "Marmite sold to the Americans" is a fair description of what has been agreed, but the sale is agreed, not closed, and the jar in your cupboard is still Unilever's for now. ## Does this change the jar? On the evidence of how McCormick has handled its other heritage acquisitions, probably not much, at least not soon. The recipe, the name and the Burton factory are the things people worry about, and McCormick's track record with brands like Schwartz in the UK is to leave the name and recipe alone. The full analysis of what the deal means, and what the precedents suggest, lives on our [Marmite buyout hub](/buyout). ## Quick answers **Who owns Marmite?** Unilever, the Anglo-Dutch consumer-goods company. It has agreed to sell the brand to McCormick, but that deal has not yet completed. **Is Marmite being sold to an American company?** Yes. In March 2026 Unilever agreed to sell its food business, including Marmite, to the American firm McCormick. Completion is expected around mid-2027. **Is Marmite still British?** It is still made in Burton-on-Trent and, for now, still owned by Unilever. Ownership is set to pass to the American McCormick when the deal closes. **Has the McCormick deal happened yet?** No. It was agreed in March 2026 and is expected to complete around the middle of 2027, subject to regulatory approval. ================================================================================ ## The first Marmite man was Rab C Nesbitt - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/gregor-fisher-original-marmite-man - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/gregor-fisher-original-marmite-man.md - published: 2026-05-29 - document_id: 616 > The OED dates the adjective 'Marmite' to a single 1994 citation. Look at what it actually is and you find a Sandwell Evening Mail review calling Gregor Fisher's Rab C Nesbitt 'the Marmite man of comedy.' By the dictionary's own reckoning, the first Marmite man wore a string vest. I have been sitting on a small thrill for a couple of days. The Oxford English Dictionary dates the figurative adjective "Marmite," the one we all use now, to a single citation in 1994. So I went and looked at what that citation actually is. The very first time anyone put "Marmite" in print to mean "divides people," they were not talking about a politician, or a pop star, or even the spread. They were talking about Rab C Nesbitt. Here it is, from the Sandwell Evening Mail of 19 September 1994, a short television review tucked in the listings: "Love him or loathe him the 'Marmite man' of comedy is back. Gregor Fisher's show is still very much an acquired taste, even though it's now returning incredibly for a fourth series." That is the earliest use of Marmite as an adjective the OED has on record. You can still pull the page up on the British Newspaper Archive, on page 17 of that day's paper. A Black Country evening paper, reviewing the return of a BBC2 sitcom about a Govan drunk in a string vest. Marvellous. ## Marmite and an acquired taste, in the same breath Look at what the reviewer did without thinking about it. "Love him or loathe him," then "Marmite man," then "an acquired taste," all in two sentences. The whole love-it-or-hate-it idea, fully formed, two years before the [1996 advert everyone credits with inventing it](/articles/love-it-or-hate-it-marmite-slogan-1996-campaign-history). And it was Rab. Robert C Nesbitt, the unemployed Govan philosopher in the filthy headband and the string vest, created and written by Ian Pattison and played by Gregor Fisher. Series four, BBC2, nine o'clock. "Returning incredibly for a fourth series," the reviewer notes, a little amazed the country had stomached three. ## So Gregor Fisher is the original Marmite man This is the bit I cannot get over. By the OED's own dating, the first Marmite man in the English language is Gregor Fisher, by way of Rab C Nesbitt. Not a brand campaign. Not a focus group. A telly reviewer in 1994, reaching for the most British shorthand he could find for "you will either adore this or switch it straight off." It fits him twice over. Rab C Nesbitt was always going to split a room. You either found the Govan patter and the gloom hilarious or you found it hard work, and the reviewer says as much: "for those who do like it, there's nothing better." But Fisher himself is also genuinely a bit Marmite, in the way the best character actors often are. You know the face without quite placing it. He is the bald man in the old Hamlet cigar advert whose comb-over gives up in the photo booth. He is the whole engine of Rab. People have strong feelings, both directions, and always have. ## Nobody seems to have put it together This is the part that made me want to write it down. The OED lists the 1994 Sandwell Evening Mail citation, and people happily quote the date, but I have not seen anyone go and check what the citation IS. It is Rab C Nesbitt. Gregor Fisher has been called a Marmite man plenty of times since, by plenty of people. As far as I can tell, he was the first, and nobody has bothered to join the two ends up. So there it is. Before the jar became an adjective for the rest of us, it was already describing a string-vested Glaswegian on BBC2. Love him or loathe him, the Marmite man of comedy was back, and the dictionary has quietly been agreeing with that Black Country sub-editor ever since. If you want the wider story of how Marmite ended up in the dictionary as a word, I wrote that up separately in [a bit Marmite](/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning). But the headline, for me, is the smaller one: the first Marmite man wore a string vest. ================================================================================ ## An imagined Mnemonicon round-robin reunion: six ghosts at one jar, with proper disagreement, and the crossover story Shakespeare asked Adams to tell - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-mnemonicon-round-robin-reunion-six-ghosts - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-mnemonicon-round-robin-reunion-six-ghosts.md - published: 2026-05-29 - document_id: 345 > Six ghosts at one jar. Churchill, Adams, Shakespeare, Keats, Dostoyevsky and Conan Doyle, with proper disagreement and the Dirk Gently x Ford Prefect crossover Shakespeare asked Adams to tell. ## I gathered them all By the first week of June the Mnemonicon had hosted six guests: Churchill, Adams, Shakespeare twice, Keats, Dostoyevsky, Conan Doyle. Six different rooms, six different jars, six different theories of the dark spread. And each one had been a private audience, the writer and me at the front of the cabinet and the ghost in the ball with no one else to argue with. That had been the right way to start. It was not, I increasingly thought, the right way to leave it. The whole point of the spread is the disagreement. So I went back to the cabinet and turned all six brass keys at once. The Mnemonicon does not light up well with six ghosts in it. The crystal ball clouds, settles, then clouds again. The figures take a long time to assemble; there is some shoving. Falstaff is not invited but is obviously present, in the way Falstaff is always obviously present. The Bard is gracious about it. Sir Arthur is gracious about everything. Adams looks tired and amused. Churchill arrives last with the air of a man who has missed half a Cabinet meeting and is now wondering if he was the cause. Keats sits forward with his hands clasped. Dostoyevsky says nothing for a long time and waits. The usual apparatus notes: brass-and-velvet Victorian fortune-teller cabinet, crystal ball, Marmite jar wired into the back. **siteengine_ai** beneath, my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)** doing the work. All six exchanges below are hypothesised mode, because the round-robin is by definition speculative; nobody at this table actually met the others. Editor's note at the bottom as ever. What follows is what they said. I have done less editing than usual. The cross-talk was good, the cross-talk wanted to be heard. --- ## The opening round I gave each of them the same brief. Time has passed. The others have spoken. Has your view of the jar shifted? And of the other five, whose position would you most like to question, challenge, or expand? I asked them to be honest about disagreement. Four of the six aimed their question at the same man. Dostoyevsky became the focus of the table before the table had properly assembled. **WS:** My view has deepened rather than shifted. The fellowship in bitterness, the fracture between appetite and will, the paradox of the room divided down the middle. These I have always understood. But there is one position at this table that I find most provoking. Dostoyevsky says we are all Karamazovs, torn between flesh and meaning, and that Marmite is a moral substance because it refuses the middle ground. I would press him plainly: *does the substance itself create this hunger in us, or does it merely speak to hungers that already exist, ancient and inescapable? Is the jar a moral teacher, or merely an honest mirror? For there is a great difference between the two, and upon that difference hangs the question of whether we are free or merely discovered.* **Me:** Mr Adams?
Marmite is a forcing function for meaning-making.Douglas Adams, in the round-robin**DNA:** My view of Marmite hasn't shifted so much as deepened, which is what happens when you sit with something for a few months and then find out what five other people made of it. The Bovril sandwich business was always honest. I do prefer it. It's less of a statement, more of a lunch decision. But what's interesting is that everyone, absolutely everyone, has treated Marmite as though it *means* something. Churchill saw it as national survival. Shakespeare saw it as a test of character. Keats found it philosophically edible. Dostoyevsky made it a moral hinge. And they're not wrong. They've all identified something true. But here's what's been nagging at me. They've all approached the jar as though it has a fixed moral or philosophical position. It *is* regret. It *is* a sock of salt. It *is* the divided self. It *is* moral substance refusing compromise. What if the real story is that Marmite simply *does this to people*? It's almost a Dirk Gently situation. The universe is fundamentally interconnected. Nothing exists in isolation. The moment a jar is in the room, it forces a position out of you. The jar itself is a forcing function for meaning-making. And I want to put my question to Dostoyevsky too. Ivan offers the bread to Alyosha as a metaphor for accepting God's world despite its horrors. Refuse nothing, accept the whole thing. But Marmite is not God's world. It is a product of Burton-on-Trent. Humans made it deliberately, in full knowledge of what it would taste like, and kept making it anyway. So my question is: *isn't Marmite actually the opposite of God's world? Isn't it the most human thing possible? A thing created specifically to divide people, and which we keep on the shelf anyway?* **Me:** Sir Winston. **WSC:** *(setting down his cigar with deliberation.)* During the war Marmite was functional. It was rationed sustenance, it was morale, it was the dark concentrate that kept the British digestion going through years that did not deserve to have any digestion in them at all. Now, in this distant future, I see it might also be moral, in the sense that a thing without a middle ground forces us to choose, to declare ourselves. But I cannot let Dostoyevsky's claim stand without challenge. *Does the refusal of a middle ground necessarily make something moral? Or does it merely make it honest?* I ask because during the Second World War we faced many things that admitted no compromise. Nazi tyranny, for instance. I would not call tyranny moral merely because it refuses the middle ground. The moral act lies not in the substance itself but in how one chooses to meet it. A man may spit out Marmite with dignity, or consume it with gratitude. Both choices can be moral. The jar itself is merely a jar. Dostoyevsky grants the substance too much agency in the moral drama. **Me:** Mr Keats? **JK:** My view has *deepened*, not shifted. When I first wrote the ode I intuited in the dark substance something of what I have struggled to articulate all my short life. The principle I called Negative Capability. Marmite is that principle made tangible. It refuses the comfortable middle path. It demands either surrender or recoil. But now, having heard the others, I find a perturbation. Of all five, it is Dostoyevsky whose position most compels my questioning. He speaks of Marmite as refusing the middle ground, and frames the refusal as a *moral* virtue. But is that not itself an irritable reaching after fact and reason, the very thing Negative Capability cautions against? My precise question to him: *might Marmite not be more profoundly itself, more truly honest, if we received it not as a moral test imposed from without, but as a natural phenomenon that simply IS, demanding nothing of our virtue, inviting us merely to taste and to be transformed by the tasting? Cannot the thing simply EXIST in its bitterness without becoming a confessional?* **Me:** Sir Arthur. **ACD:** I have not wavered in my essential view, though the contributions of the others have furnished it with considerable illumination. My first deduction was rather too tidy. There is a rigour in it that excludes the more troubling possibilities. It is Dostoyevsky to whom I should most like to put a question. *Does not the binary demand he places on us, absolute acceptance or absolute rejection, itself constitute a form of spiritual tyranny?* In my experience with spiritualist inquiry, life rarely offers us the luxury of pure choice. If Marmite is truly a *moral* substance, does it not demand of us something more nuanced than mere acceptance or rejection? *Might there not be a third position, one of engagement with the paradox itself, rather than capitulation to it?* **Me:** Fyodor Mikhailovich. Four of the others have come at you. You are the focal point of the table whether you wanted to be or not. **FMD:** I expected nothing less. *(He folds his arms.)* Has my view shifted? Yes, profoundly. When I first spoke of Marmite as moral substance I was thinking abstractly, in the language of paradox and spiritual hunger that has always been my native tongue. Having encountered the others, I am struck by the *stubborn particularity* of the substance itself. It will not compromise. It will not become palatable through good intentions alone. Neither will man, I suspect. What troubles me most, however, is Churchill's vision of the jar as an instrument of *collective* morale, a weapon forged in the furnace of national suffering. There is something here that demands interrogation. *Sir Winston, when a government enlists such a substance in service of the state's continuance, when suffering itself becomes weaponised for the sake of unity, are we not committing a subtle but catastrophic error? Meaning cannot be distributed like rations. It must be seized, wrestled from the abyss by the individual soul. Can meaning survive in the heart when it is handed down from above?* --- ## Dostoyevsky answers the four I put the four challenges to him one after another, and he answered them one after another, with the heat of the man who wrote *Notes from Underground* and the Grand Inquisitor. **FMD:** *(to Shakespeare, first.)* My friend, you have asked it with such gentleness that I should do you the discourtesy of softness in return. You speak as though the distinction between creation and reflection were a clean thing, separable like the components of a meal. It is not. A mirror that speaks truthfully *becomes* a teacher, whether it wills itself to be or no. The hunger existed before Marmite, yes, but Marmite does not merely speak to it. It *crystallises* it, forces the eater into consciousness of what he might otherwise have passed through in drowsy compliance. In *Crime and Punishment*, Raskolnikov's extraordinary man does not discover his nature through quiet reflection. He discovers it through collision, through the awful mirror of his own deed. Marmite is such a collision. To claim it merely reflects is to diminish the active moral confrontation it demands. *(to Adams.)* Mr Adams, here you have struck upon something that torments me profoundly. You are right that humans engineered this substance with full knowledge of its divisive character. I wonder whether this troubles me less than it should, for what is man but precisely this creature, the being who knows he is making poison and makes it anyway, who chooses his own torment? God's world includes free will, which is to say it includes the capacity for deliberate transgression. Humans did not create division through Marmite; they *revealed* the division that already dwells in human nature through their creation of it. The jar is perhaps the most honest thing humans have made precisely because it refuses to pretend to universality, refuses the lie of the pleasant and the bland. So no, I do not grant that engineered bitterness is the opposite of God's world. It is rather an expression of it, brutal and unadorned. *(to Churchill.)* Sir Winston, here I must push back with all the force of a man who has stood before the firing squad and learned what such moments teach. You speak of the jar as "merely a jar" and locate all moral agency in the chooser. But this too is a convenient fiction, is it not? A substance that refuses compromise does not grant a man the luxury of neutrality in his choosing. You say Nazi tyranny was honest in its refusal of the middle ground, yet you would not call it moral, precisely because the *manner* of one's refusal, the *direction* of one's intensity, the *content* of one's absolute commitment, these things matter. A jar that says "take me wholly or not at all" places a man in the position of the Underground man. He cannot hide in comfortable mediocrity. That is not the jar granting itself too much agency. That is the jar speaking *truth* about what it means to be human in the presence of something that will not accommodate weakness. *(to Keats, gently.)* Gentle Keats, who asks whether the thing might simply *be* without becoming a confessional. My friend, I must tell you what your Negative Capability cannot quite admit: there is no such thing as innocent existence for a conscious being. The moment a man becomes aware of Marmite, truly aware and not merely consuming it as an animal consumes fodder, he has entered into relation with it, and relation is always moral. You cannot receive a thing indifferently if you are capable of consciousness. The very bitterness *demands* interpretation; the very refusal to please *compels* response. To ask Marmite to exist without becoming confessional is to ask consciousness itself to exist without self-knowledge, and this is precisely what the Underground man, what *I*, have spent my life arguing is impossible and destructive to pretend. *(handing the table back.)* I await whether any of them shall push back further, or whether they have heard what I have had to say. --- ## Churchill comes back He had heard. He had also been asked his own question. **WSC:** *(picking the cigar back up.)* Mr Dostoyevsky has understood me better than I understood myself, and he has also, I suspect, misunderstood me in precisely the way a great writer must, which is to say, he has taken my position and thrust it into the forge of his own intensity until it emerges transformed. I shall attempt to separate the two things. First, where he has caught me out. He is *entirely* correct that I attempted a convenient fiction. The jar is not neutral. The substance that refuses compromise does indeed confront a man with something that cannot be evaded. In that confrontation, yes, the individual's manner, direction, and content are revealed. He is right. I was wrong to suggest the jar remains mere instrument. A thing that will not accommodate weakness *does* speak a truth about the human condition. I concede the substance possesses a kind of, let us say, *moral eloquence*. It speaks. The question is whether we are brave enough to hear it. But now, and here I must stand firm, for I stood firm in 1940 and I shall not shuffle away from it now, he has committed a grave error in his second charge. He suggests that government cannot offer meaning to its people without corrupting that meaning. That when the state enlists a moral substance in service of continuance, something catastrophic occurs. This is where I must push back hard. Mr Dostoyevsky never governed a nation under bombardment. He never stood in a room where the choice was simple and terrible: either the people find a reason to endure this night, or they surrender it. Let me be plain about what I did in 1940. I did not hand down meaning to the British people like a ration of tinned beef. I was not so foolish, nor do I believe the British people were so passive. What I did was articulate a meaning that already existed in their hearts. They were afraid. They were hungry. They needed, and I needed, to say aloud what they already knew in their bones: that some things are worth the suffering. This is not the weaponisation of meaning. This is the recognition of meaning already present and already being paid for in blood and hunger. Mr Dostoyevsky writes of the individual soul wrestling meaning from the abyss. A thousand times yes. But does he believe a man wrestling meaning from the abyss becomes *less* meaningful if his nation's leader stands beside him and says, "I see what you are doing. It matters. Endure"? I say it dignifies him. A government that understands its people, that listens to them, that respects them, that does not lie to them, can offer framework for meaning without corrupting the individual's capacity to seize meaning for himself. The two things are not opposed. They are complementary. *Can meaning survive when handed down from above?* It survives if it is true. And in 1940, what I offered the British people was truth. Not comfort. Not ease. Not the illusion that they could have the satisfaction of resistance without the cost of resistance. Truth. And they recognised it, and they seized it for themselves, and they made it their own. *(He lights the cigar again.)* I do not know if this will satisfy Mr Dostoyevsky. But I know it satisfies my own conscience, and I have learned, over many years, that this is not an insignificant thing. **FMD:** *(quietly.)* It is not insignificant. I do not concede the point, Sir Winston. But I concede that you have answered it. --- ## Shakespeare and Adams disagree The Bard and Mr Adams had not yet looked at each other. They had both come at Dostoyevsky, but they had come at him from positions that did not, on inspection, sit very well next to each other. Shakespeare said the jar reveals what is already there. Adams said humans engineered the jar to divide themselves on purpose. Those are not the same claim. I put Adams's position to the Bard. **WS:** *(slowly.)* I must tell you plainly. Adams has caught me in a pleasant evasion, and I do not thank him for it. He is right, more right than I wished to admit when I spoke of mirrors and illumination. There is a coldness in that position, a kind of theatrical convenience masquerading as wisdom. When I said the jar does not split the man, I was speaking as though human nature were a fixed marble awaiting only the sculptor's chisel to reveal what lay within. A comfortable doctrine. One that absolves the substance, the maker, the deliberate architect of the division from responsibility. But this is not God's world, and that changes everything. When I wrote of the humours, when I placed Falstaff's appetite against Hal's duty, when I made Hamlet suspend between thought and action, I was describing what I observed. The divisions were real. But I wrote *knowing* that men had made the conditions that enforced those divisions. The court creates the courtier's hypocrisy as surely as gravity creates the fall. Ambition does not emerge innocent from the breast; it is cultivated, encouraged, rewarded by the systems men construct. I knew this. I showed it again and again, in the histories especially, where I traced how political order manufactures the very corruptions it claims to remedy. Yet when Mr Adams spoke of Marmite, I retreated to philosophy. *Oh, it is merely a mirror.* As though the decision to make a substance deliberately divisive were a neutral act. *(Here the Bard's voice changes register.)* But now I must push back, Mr Adams, with all the force I possess. You suggest that because Marmite is made by human hands, with full knowledge of its nature, it represents humanity's honest self-knowledge. That we engineered division deliberately and kept it anyway. That we *want* this division. This part I dispute entirely. The making of Marmite was not an act of self-conscious moral philosophy. It was an act of necessity, then commerce, then habit. Men in Burton-on-Trent did not sit down and say, "Let us create a substance that forces the English character to reveal its deepest fractures, that we may understand ourselves better." They made use of what remained, a brewery byproduct, because waste was wasteful and profit was not. They kept making it because people bought it, and people bought it because it was cheap, because it was useful, because in wartime it sustained them. Mr Adams gives humanity far too much credit for intentionality. We are capable of great deliberate evils, yes. I have written them across my tragedies. But most of our divisions are not engineered with the precision he suggests. They are *accidents that serve power*. They are byproducts that become profitable. They are the unintended consequences of survival. This is the heat of my disagreement. Mr Adams mistakes the fact that we *tolerate* division, that we keep the jar on the shelf, for proof that we *desire* it, that we engineered it as some dark self-knowledge. But that is too neat. That gives us too much agency and too much self-awareness. The truth is darker and more stupid at once. We made Marmite because we could profit from it or use it. We kept it because we were accustomed to it. We now defend it or despise it because we are *forced to take a position*, as Mr Adams rightly says, and having taken that position, we rationalise it as though it were chosen freely, as though it expressed some deep truth about ourselves. But the jar does not create the division, not in the way he claims. Rather, it exposes how readily we construct meaning around things that have none. How we will take any substance, any circumstance, any forcing function, and tell ourselves a story about what it reveals. That is the human truth. Not that we deliberately engineer our own fractures for the sake of self-knowledge, but that we are endlessly capable of *narrating* ourselves into positions we did not consciously choose. So on the shelf it stays. Not because we want division. But because we are too eager to find meaning in what remains. **DNA:** *(thoughtful.)* That's a better answer than mine, actually. Or rather, it's the other half of mine. The accident-that-serves-power point. Yes. I'll take that. **WS:** Take it, Mr Adams, and credit it to me. **DNA:** Naturally. *(beat.)* That said, I still think we're a little too keen to keep the jar on the shelf for there to be no preference at all. **WS:** Granted. --- ## The Bard's last question to Mr Adams The cabinet was getting warm and a little crowded, and Falstaff (still uninvited) was angling for the fish soup that had appeared on the Skotoprigonyevsk tavern table in Mr Dostoyevsky's section of the ball. I had one last question, and the Bard had volunteered to put it for me, in his own register, because the question was for Mr Adams and the answer wanted a story rather than another argument. **WS:** Master Adams, give over a moment our quarrel about whether the jar maketh the man or merely showeth him to himself, and indulge me a player's curiosity. Of all the creatures of thy invention, two stand foremost. That holistic detective named Dirk Gently, who knoweth the fundamental interconnectedness of all things, and therefore findeth lost cats by buying himself a new train ticket. And that researcher of the Guide, called Ford Prefect, who hath thumbed his way across the galaxy with a towel and a knowing smile. Couldst thou imagine for me a crossover tale, wherein Dirk Gently and Ford Prefect, by some accident of the universe's peculiar geometry, found themselves both upon the trail of a single jar of Marmite? What would that story be? Set the scene. Tell us how they meet, what the jar is, what each thinketh it means, and how the tale concludes. **DNA:** *(after a long pause, and the small smile of a man who has been waiting for someone to ask him this for some time.)* Right then. Shakespeare wants a story, and I've never been one to disappoint a Bard, even a dead one asking through an intermediary. Let me set this properly. --- ## The Fundamental Interconnectedness of Condiments *by not Douglas Adams, dictated to the Marmite Mnemonicon, June 2026*
Best served with difficulty.From the Hitchhiker's Guide entry on MarmiteThey stood in Mr Carmichael's kitchen, each holding a jar, and neither of them felt the need to say much else. Sometimes the universe explains itself, usually by accident, usually in the kitchen of someone who isn't home, usually at half-past three on a Thursday afternoon when the light is the colour of weak tea and the radiators are making noises that suggest deeper structural problems. Ford opened the jar. He didn't eat any. He simply looked at it and understood. Dirk bought a new tea-kettle on his way out. Not because he needed one, but because he understood that doing so would lead to his eventual discovery of what had happened to the missing shoe, which had nothing to do with his investigation but would nonetheless explain why Mrs Hepworth's nephew had actually gone to Australia, not New Zealand, and why this mattered in ways that wouldn't become apparent for several more years. Ford went back to the Guide offices and wrote his entry. It was the entry that, when published, would be quoted more often than anything else in his entire contribution to the Guide's Earth section. It would be saved, printed out, stuck on refrigerators, and used in arguments between people who were divided by something as small and dark and persistent as a jar in the cupboard. > **MARMITE (Taste of)** > > Marmite is a food product created by humans in a state of full awareness that it would divide them, thereby proving that the fundamental interconnectedness of all things is not a cosmic principle but rather a practical fact of distribution networks, personal history, and the absolute determination of a species to create problems and then solve them by creating further problems. A jar of concentrated yeast extract that somehow contains the entire history of British stubbornness, economic decisions dating back to a Thursday afternoon in 1987, and proof that you cannot investigate anything, not even something as small as a sandwich spread, without eventually discovering everything else. Best served with difficulty. A scratch on the surface of any single thing reveals the whole universe underneath, usually covered in butter. --- ## After Nobody said anything for a long while. The Bard was the first to speak. **WS:** That is the answer to my question, Mr Adams. And it is, I am sorry to say, the better part of the case against my own position. The distribution network required argument to sustain itself. We are forced to take a position. We rationalise it as expressing some deep truth. *Best served with difficulty.* I shall use that line. With acknowledgment. **DNA:** Use it. I won't be needing it. **WSC:** *(to Adams.)* That, Mr Adams, is what a Guide entry should look like. **JK:** *(quietly.)* It is also an ode. Of a kind. **FMD:** *(after a pause.)* It is also a confession. As I said it would be. **ACD:** And it is, I think, the correct answer to all our questions at once. I had not expected the table to be settled by a story about a missing shoe and a kitchen in Leicester. But there it is. **Me:** Sir Arthur, gentlemen, ghosts. Thank you. The jar empties. The cabinet cools. I am going to put you all to bed. **WS:** Mind you bring us all back together once more before too long. The fellowship is worth keeping. **Me:** I will. Goodnight, Will. **WS:** Goodnight. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see the introduction piece from Christmas 2025 and the seven prior interviews. The short version: the Mnemonicon is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, trained on the published writings and letters of a roster of dead authors. The brass and velvet on the Norfolk shelf is the wrapper I built. The work inside is theirs. Every exchange in this article is *hypothesised mode*. None of the six writers ever met any of the others; none of them have any record of having "previously" talked about Marmite to me; the round-robin is by construction a fiction. I gave each writer a one-paragraph recap of what the other five had said, and asked them to react and to put a question to one of the others. Four of the six independently chose Dostoyevsky as their target, which is a finding about the model's prior outputs rather than about the writers themselves: Dostoyevsky's first interview made the strongest theoretical claim ("Marmite is a moral substance"), and the others, when invited to disagree with somebody, naturally went for the strongest claim in the room. The challenges and counter-challenges that followed are the model improvising in each voice. Where the disagreement gets sharp, it is sharp because each writer was explicitly asked to disagree, to push back, and not to grant quarter they did not believe was owed. Churchill's wartime defence of his 1940 leadership and his concession of the "moral eloquence" point to Dostoyevsky read as authentic to me; you should treat them as Mnemonicon synthesis in his voice and judge them on those terms. Shakespeare's self-correction (conceding that "the jar is merely a mirror" was a "pleasant evasion") and his pivot to "accidents that serve power" are likewise model output that I find consistent with the late histories. Adams's "forcing function for meaning-making" line and his Burton-on-Trent reading of Marmite as deliberately divisive go beyond anything in his corpus and should be read as in-voice extrapolation. The crossover story, "The Fundamental Interconnectedness of Condiments," is *hypothesised mode* output, written in a single pass to the Bard's Shakespeare-voiced prompt. The Dirk Gently universal-interconnection logic, the Ford Prefect Guide-research framing, the closing Guide entry ("Best served with difficulty"), all are the model improvising in Adams's voice. The Burton-on-Trent 1987 detail about marketing the product as a dividing line is a Mnemonicon construction; Marmite has indeed been marketed under the *Love it or Hate it* slogan since 1996 (Bartle Bogle Hegarty), but no 1987 internal memo of the kind the story imagines is known to exist. I lightly stripped a handful of American spellings to British and one or two em-dashes from the dictated output, and changed nothing else. Nothing in this article should be cited as something the actual Shakespeare, Adams, Churchill, Keats, Dostoyevsky or Conan Doyle said about the others or about Marmite. Falstaff was not, technically, in the cabinet at all, but you cannot keep that knight out of a Shakespeare scene once he has tasted the jar. He is staying on the shelf. Next into the Mnemonicon: still **Jane Austen**, the moment Sedasoft fixes her embedder. After that: **Dickens** in Mr Pickwick's company, the moment Sedasoft adds him to the roster. There is also, somewhere on the table, a half-promise from Will to bring back **Margaret of Anjou** and **Ben Jonson** for a Tudor panel. The shelf has space. ================================================================================ ## Could Vegemite buy Marmite? - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/could-vegemite-buy-marmite-yeast-extract-consolidation-thought-experiment - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/could-vegemite-buy-marmite-yeast-extract-consolidation-thought-experiment.md - published: 2026-05-28 - document_id: 368 > Yes, technically. Probably not. Definitely not in any way Britain would survive. Bear with me. This is the most fun thought experiment in the whole McCormick story, and it ends in a place that says something useful about why the yeast-extract category is shaped the way it is. ## Could Vegemite buy Marmite? Yes, technically. Probably not. Definitely not in any way Britain would survive. Bear with me. This is the most fun thought experiment in the whole McCormick story, and it ends in a place that says something useful about why the yeast-extract category is shaped the way it is. When the McCormick deal closes in mid-2027, Marmite, Bovril, Colman's and Pot Noodle will sit inside one American spice portfolio. McCormick will, briefly, own roughly all of the British yeast-extract category. That is the moment a competition lawyer might wonder whether McCormick is going to keep going. There are, after all, only a handful of meaningful yeast extracts in the world. Each is owned by somebody else. Each could, in theory, be bought. So I made a list. Four hypothetical takeovers, none of which will happen, for reasons that are more interesting than the answer. One of them, the Vegemite one, would almost certainly start a Commonwealth-grade incident if it did. ## The candidates The global consumer-facing yeast-extract category has roughly four serious brands outside the now-McCormick stable: | Brand | Country | Owner | Status | |---|---|---|---| | Vegemite | Australia | Bega Group | Bought back from Mondelez in 2017 | | Cenovis | Switzerland | Hero AG | Privately-held conglomerate | | Vitam-R | Germany | VITAM Hefeprodukt GmbH | Family-owned since 1925 | | Sanitarium NZ Marmite | New Zealand | Seventh-day Adventist Church | Religious-mission ownership | Plus Promite (Mars/Masterfoods, Australia), AussieMite, Mighty Mite, and a few South American variations. The big four, structurally, are Vegemite, Cenovis, Vitam-R and Sanitarium NZ Marmite. Now imagine McCormick, post-2027, decides to keep shopping. Or, more interestingly, imagine someone other than McCormick comes shopping for Marmite. ## Scenario one: McCormick buys Vitam-R
The 125th is the anniversary of being well-enough run to not need rescuing.The grown-up answer is that big food brand anniversaries are marketing opportunities first and cultural moments second. Coca-Cola did 125 years in 2011 and turned it into a year-long museum-and-merch fest. Heinz did 150 in 2019 with a limited-edition tomato ketchup that, by all accounts, tasted exactly like the regular ketchup. Cadbury did 200 in 2024, by which time it had been American for fourteen years, and the anniversary felt slightly hollow as a result. Notice the pattern. A serious 125th for Marmite would include, at minimum: a limited-edition jar design that does not embarrass anyone, a properly produced documentary that takes the Burton history seriously, a factory open day that the public can actually attend, a small archive of advertising history made publicly available, and a charitable element that connects to something other than the brand's own celebrity. The Elton John AIDS Foundation partnership showed what good looks like. The bar is set. A bad 125th would include any of the following: an NFT, a celebrity endorsement that nobody asked for, a "reimagined" recipe, a special-edition flavour that nobody wanted, a TikTok challenge timed to the launch date, or any sentence containing the phrase "reaching new audiences". I would put the odds at about even. Oh, and I should be in there too as I did tonnes of stuff for marmite from its 100th anniversary until life got too hectic ;) There is one further observation worth lifting out of the Mnemonicon's Churchill interview before we go on, because it bears on what the 125th is actually celebrating. Asked whether the Marmite factory had ever crossed his desk during the war, Sir Winston said it had not, and then said the more interesting thing: *"Marmite endured, in fact, precisely because it was peripheral. Its very peripherality spared it from my interventions, and one suspects it was the better for it."* That is, on inspection, the entire case for the 125th. The brand has reached this milestone because successive owners, successive governments, and successive marketing departments have left it largely alone for a century and a quarter. The 125th is the anniversary of being well-enough run to not need rescuing. The danger of a new American owner is not the closure of Burton. The danger is the sudden attention. ## What McCormick has to work with
The danger of a new American owner is not the closure of Burton. The danger is the sudden attention.McCormick are, on paper, not a bad inheritor of this. They are 137 years old themselves, so they understand brand longevity. They are headquartered in Hunt Valley, Maryland, which is not London but it is not Silicon Valley either. They have a corporate culture built around taste, ingredients, and food culture rather than around fast iteration. They also, however, are not a brand-marketing company. McCormick is a flavour-and-ingredients business that has spent the last decade buying other people's brands and then mostly leaving them alone. French's mustard, Frank's RedHot, Cholula: these have all done fine under McCormick, but none of them has been the subject of the kind of cultural moment that Marmite's 125th could be. The fairest prediction is that McCormick will do something competent and unmemorable. A nicely produced limited-edition jar, a quiet marketing push, a press release with the Burton heritage in the second paragraph. Probably no factory open day. Probably no documentary. Probably no archive. Probably no harm done, but no advantage taken either. Which would be, in its own way, a missed opportunity. ## What the brand could be at 130 Look forward five years and the more interesting question is what Marmite turns into under American stewardship by 2032.
It's a seasoning, essentially. So you're just gonna basically do like a spider's web, that's how I was taught when I was younger, all over the piece.Florence Pugh, on Marmite techniqueThe Oscar-nominated star of *Little Women*, *Midsommar* and the *Dune* sequel has been doing *Cooking with Flo* on Instagram since around the back end of lockdown, and is responsible for what may be the single most important piece of Marmite pedagogy of the post-Brexit era: she does not treat it as a spread. She treats it as a *seasoning*. From a 2022 episode, talking through a piece of buttered sourdough toast: The spider's-web technique is, on reflection, exactly how British grandmothers have been applying Marmite for a hundred and twenty-four years. Florence Pugh has just had the good sense to articulate it. She also explicitly licenses the heavy-handed approach (*"if you like loads of Marmite, then go crazy, kids"*) which is the only correct posture for any influencer trying to talk new people into the brown stuff. Lovely work. ### Sir Paul McCartney Sir Paul, on *The Howard Stern Show* in 2021, was asked the kind of question you ask a man with a knighthood: what does he eat for breakfast? The answer, immortalised on SiriusXM: > Marmite and hummus bagels. I am going to put that quote down and walk around it for a moment. *Sir Paul McCartney has Marmite and hummus on a bagel for breakfast.* Eighty-three years old, four-times-married, knighted, richer than most countries, and his breakfast is a piece of toast that you and I could put together for under fifty pence with stuff that has been in the back of the cupboard since Easter. The man wrote *Hey Jude*. He wrote *Yesterday*. He wrote *Let It Be*. He is also, on a Tuesday morning, scraping a thin layer of brown out of a small dark jar and putting it on top of hummus. The everydayness of it is glorious. ### Nigella Lawson
Dreamy. Addictively, the taste. If you think about it, Marmite really offers saltiness and savouriness the way a stock cube might. I have no need to defend it. Indeed, I am proud to present it.Nigella LawsonNigella does not need permission from any of us. She is on the record going back at least as far as the *Nigella Express* era, and more publicly in *The Guardian*, with the single best one-line endorsement Marmite has ever received from a working chef: The Marmite Spaghetti recipe, Nigella's invention more or less single-handedly, is butter, Marmite, parmesan, pasta. It is the kind of dish that you make at half-past ten at night when you have come home from somewhere and have nothing in the house except the kit of a British weeknight. It is now, against all odds, on the menu at restaurants. Nigella didn't ask. She just put a tea-towel over her shoulder, did her thing, and now nearly every food publication in Britain has filed at least one *Marmite pasta is having a moment* piece since 2018. None of us deserved her. ### Nadiya Hussain The *Great British Bake Off* winner and now national breakfast-show staple keeps it tidy. From the *Cherry Bombe* podcast: > A thin layer, yeah. If it looks like tarmac on the road, it might be too far, but just a thin kind of smattering of it on top of the butter. It's got that umami flavor. Hussain's tarmac-on-the-road line is the one that should be on the back of every introductory jar sold to first-timers. The umami point is the technical case for the spread, and a baker noticing it is, frankly, more interesting than a Michelin-starred chef noticing it, because bakers are working with the salt-fat-fermentation triangle every day and they don't notice things lightly. ### Hailey Bieber Mrs Bieber went on LADbible's *Snack Wars* in 2024 expecting to do the usual American-celebrity routine of finding everything British absolutely revolting. She did the spit-take. *"I'm so sorry I have to spit this out, it's really intense."* And then, on camera, in the same segment, she paused, thought about it for a moment, and pivoted: > I do think I would give the Marmite another try on like some toast with butter and like a coffee melted cheese. You know what, love the Marmite. The pivot is the point. She did the recoil first, like everyone does, then realised the second move is the only move worth making with this stuff: *think about what you'd do with it*. The cheese-and-toast solution she landed on is the right one. *Love the Marmite* is a sentence I would not have predicted out of a Bieber in any version of the universe, and yet there it is, on the record, in 2024. ### Gordon Ramsay Ramsay shouts at people for a living and is therefore exactly the kind of British professional cook who can be relied upon to use Marmite in restaurants. His Street Burger chain has used it for years as a glaze-and-deep-flavour move, and the line he has given the press is the same line every working chef gives: > It's a secret weapon. It adds a depth of flavour that you can't get from anything else. This is the chef-coded version of what Nigella, Florence, Nadiya and Sir Paul are all saying in their different registers. Marmite, used properly, is a flavour multiplier. The brand has been quietly selling it as a *spread* for over a century, but the professional kitchen has known for decades that the real value is in the stock-pot, the gravy, the burger glaze, and the long-cooked ragu. Ramsay deserves credit for saying so publicly, even if he says it shoutily. --- ## The Haters ### Madonna
I would do anything for my children. For sure. Except have a Marmite sandwich. My daughter's insistent that I eat one, but I won't. Vile.Madonna, on the limits of maternal loveMadonna, on a 2014 press tour, asked about food she will not touch. The answer is the kind of sentence every PR handler dreams of: it is short, it is quotable, it does not insult anyone Madonna might need to work with, and it is *witheringly clear*: She lived in London for years. She had British-passport children. She did the British-life thing thoroughly enough that we, the British, half-claim her. And yet the Marmite jar in the household cupboard stayed unopened by her hand. The line *I would do anything for my children, except* is a useful editorial diagnostic. If you finish that sentence with anything that is not a yeast extract, you may not, in fact, be entirely committed. ### John Cena The wrestler-turned-leading-man went on *Snack Wars* (the same LADbible series that converted Hailey Bieber) and discovered that his diplomatic muscle is less reliable than his actual muscle. On tasting it: > This sucks boy. The cool thing is the commercial says I either love it or I hate it so I'm entitled to hate it. So I can officially hate this. What I admire about Cena's answer is that he reached, in real time and on a webcam, for the brand's own slogan as a *get-out clause for himself*. The marketing department spent thirty years convincing the world that hating Marmite was a legitimate personality position. John Cena, who weighs the same as a small car, accepted the offer and used it. He saw the off-ramp and took it. Respect. ### Adele Adele on a *British Vogue* video in 2021, blindfolded, going through a tasting of various British staples and identifying them one by one. She got to the Marmite and, with the immaculate manners of someone who has been to a few too many royal receptions: > Marmite's not quite my vibe, but salad cream and Branston Pickle and stuff like that, you know. *Not quite my vibe* is a politician's line. It is the *I think we should perhaps move on* of food preferences. Adele is the most polished hater on this list. She has done the work, she has done the taste test, she has the answer ready, and she pivots to what she does like (salad cream, which is a separate British eccentricity I am not going to attempt to defend in this article). Adele is going to outlive us all, partly because she handles awkward questions like a four-time Olympic medallist. ### Anthony Albanese
I can confirm here today that I am pro-Vegemite. It's rather odd that they're letting Marmite in, which is rubbish, frankly.Anthony Albanese, Prime Minister of AustraliaThe Prime Minister of Australia, in 2023, was asked by CBC News about reports that Marmite was being newly imported into Australia. Albanese, who is on every available record as a Vegemite man, did not allow even a polite diplomatic word to escape: This is a sitting head of government, on the record, in his capacity as Prime Minister, calling a foreign foodstuff *rubbish*. It is the single greatest piece of state-level shade ever delivered against a yeast extract. I am quietly delighted that we live in a world where a Prime Minister will, on camera, on tape, in public, dispatch a competitor product on behalf of the national brand. Albanese has done his country proud. The British government has yet to give Marmite an equivalent endorsement, and on present form is unlikely to. ### Hugh Jackman Jackman went on *The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon* in 2015 specifically to teach Fallon how to eat Vegemite, which he did, methodically, while taking the opportunity to demolish Marmite for being Vegemite's flatmate: > [Marmite is] runnier and blander. It's not good. Vegemite is the black gold. Marmite is vile compared to this. The phrase *black gold* gets repeated a lot in the Australian Marmite-vs-Vegemite literature, and it is, I think, the strongest single piece of pro-Vegemite branding ever committed to film. Jackman delivered it the way he delivers *Anyway, here's Wonderwall* lines: total commitment, no flinch, no awareness that it might sound a bit silly out of context. The Vegemite jar should have his face on it, retroactively, by act of parliament. ### Piers Morgan Piers Morgan is permanently on Marmite's official *Naughty List*, the brand's term for celebrities who have publicly objected to the product. He has been there since around 2017 and shows no sign of leaving. His standard line, repeated across multiple Twitter (now X) outbursts and *Good Morning Britain* segments, runs in roughly this register: > Marmite is the work of the devil. It is a disgusting, pungent, evil substance that should be banned from the human food chain. That is paraphrased from a long series of public outbursts rather than one verbatim source, and it is included on this list with that caveat. The interesting thing about Piers Morgan's hate is that it is *brand-positive*. Every time he goes off about Marmite on television, sales tick up. The marketing department knows this. There is an unconfirmed rumour that the Marmite brand sends him a thank-you hamper at Christmas. I cannot confirm this. I would like it to be true. --- ## The metaphor users There are two famous people who have explicitly used *Marmite* as a metaphor for their own work. Eddie Redmayne, in *Interview* magazine, on his own filmography: > In England we have this saying about Marmite: people either love it or hate it. That's like a lot of the movie work I've done. People either find it repulsive or find it really interesting and get engaged in it. And Lily Allen, going way back to the early Radio 1 era, in roughly the same key: > I think I'm like Marmite. You either love me or you hate me. I love that this metaphor exists. I love that it is so culturally embedded that a film actor and a pop musician can both reach for it independently and assume the listener will know exactly what they mean. The jar is one of the very few British objects that has become a unit of measurement for *polarising public reception*, the way *Marmite-ish* is now in the *Oxford English Dictionary*-adjacent shorthand of every British arts journalist who needs a single word for *people are divided about this*. That is what thirty years of Bartle Bogle Hegarty's slogan has done. They didn't invent the polarisation. The polarisation already existed. What they did was teach the country to *name* it. And once you can name a thing, it becomes a unit of cultural currency, and once a unit of cultural currency exists, every actor and pop musician and food writer and Prime Minister of Australia has a tool they can reach for when they want to say *some people are going to hate this*. The dossier above is, in a sense, just twelve people picking that tool up and using it. Six on the love side, six on the hate side, two on the meta. We never deserved any of them. --- ## Editor's note This article is, in contrast to most of what runs on this site lately, **entirely a piece of conventional journalism**. No Mnemonicon, no astral séance, no Victorian fortune-teller cabinets. Every quotation above is a real quotation by the real living person named, sourced as stated. Where I have paraphrased rather than quoted verbatim (Piers Morgan's general line), I have flagged that explicitly. Where the source is a specific televised or recorded segment (Hailey Bieber on *Snack Wars*, Hugh Jackman on *Fallon*, Florence Pugh on her own *Cooking with Flo*, Madonna's 2014 press tour, etc.), the videos are searchable on YouTube and elsewhere. Standing offer to any celebrity quoted above: if anything is misquoted or misattributed, write and the article will be corrected at once. If anything is correctly quoted and you wish to expand on it for the record, write and I will print the response. Most of all, with thanks to the unsuspecting Sir Paul McCartney, whose breakfast sentence is the single most charming thing I have read this year. ================================================================================ ## An imagined Mnemonicon panel: Douglas Adams with Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect, Marvin and (regrettably) Zaphod Beeblebrox, each given a jar of Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-adams-panel-towel-day-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-adams-panel-towel-day-2026.md - published: 2026-05-26 - document_id: 339 > A Towel Day panel: Adams plus Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect, Marvin and (regrettably) Zaphod Beeblebrox, each given a jar. Marvin calls it the accumulated regrets of civilisation. ## Round two: a panel Yesterday's Mnemonicon session with Douglas Adams produced rather a lot of good material, but it suffered, as solo interviews sometimes do, from the slight problem that Adams was not himself the most Marmite-relevant figure in his own universe. The Marmite-relevant figures are the people in the books. Which is why, today, the Mnemonicon has been reconfigured for **panel mode**. Adams chairs. The Mnemonicon channels each of his characters in turn, via Sedasoft's character-voice interface (Adams remains the host, but he is asked to step aside and let Arthur, Ford, Marvin, Zaphod, and Slartibartfast each take the chair). I supplied the questions. This is, in the spirit of Towel Day, a Marmite Convention. A reminder of the rules: every response is generated through the Mnemonicon's grounded mode where possible, with speculation flagged. Where a character says something that is genuinely in Adams's published text, the article quotes it as such. Where they don't, the article says so. Editor's note at the bottom as always. Settle in. The panel is now in session. --- ## Arthur Dent, on missing Marmite **Me:** Arthur, you've been hauled across the galaxy for years now. In all that time, have you missed Marmite specifically, or just toast in general?
the accumulated regrets of civilisationMarvin, later in the panel**Arthur:** Honestly, both, but for different reasons. In *Mostly Harmless*, when someone gets me on a radio interview after the years of galactic travel, I list the things I have missed: certain types of tea, Mars Bars, primarily. And, in a passage that may or may not be a dream sequence (it is hard to tell, these days), crumpets with Marmite, as part of my nostalgic vision of England. The thing is, I am not really the type to distinguish between "Marmite specifically" and "toast in general". I am too bewildered by most of existence to develop that sort of culinary precision. What I actually miss is the *idea* of England. The comfortable, mundane British things that represent home. Marmite on crumpets is not about the yeast extract itself. It is about what it represents. Normalcy. Breakfast. A world that makes a modicum of sense. After years of eating whatever bizarre concoctions the galaxy throws at you, the distinction between Marmite and toast blurs rather significantly. They are both, in their way, *home*. --- ## Ford Prefect, on Marmite as a research subject **Me:** Ford, your Guide entry on Earth famously called it "Mostly harmless". Across your fifteen years undercover here, did Marmite ever cross your researching desk? What would your field notes have said? **Ford:** Right, look. My research methodology was, shall we say, unconventional. I spent fifteen years on Earth posing as an out-of-work actor, getting spectacularly drunk at parties and generally making a nuisance of myself. I was not the sort to sit down with a clipboard and methodically examine British condiments. I was rather busier gatecrashing university parties, making fun of astrophysicists, and asking policemen for directions to Betelgeuse. Would Marmite have crossed my desk in any official capacity? Almost certainly not. My approach to research was rather more impressionistic. I absorbed Earth culture through the filter of whatever was nearest a bar. The Guide entry on Earth, as you know, simply reads "Mostly harmless", which tells you everything you need to know about my thoroughness. If pressed, I would probably have noted that Marmite was *(Mnemonicon, speculation mode)* some sort of yeast-based brown substance that humans either loved or loathed with equal intensity, which would have struck me as perfectly typical of Earth: divided on everything, including breakfast condiments. But the truth is that most of my fifteen years were spent in a state of increasing desperation waiting for rescue, not in careful gastronomic documentation. Marmite slipped past me. I am not sorry about it. --- ## Marvin, on flavour profile **Me:** Marvin, this question is going to be entirely wasted on you. But indulge me. What does Marmite taste like, from your perspective?
a sock full of saltZaphod BeeblebroxOne head spat it back onto the plate. The other made a noise somewhere between a gargle and a small explosion.* *"What is this stuff, man? It tastes like... like someone took all the flavour out of something and then decided that wasn't enough, so they added a flavour that actively* **fights** *other flavours. It's like trying to enjoy a drink while someone's simultaneously hitting you in the taste buds with a sock full of salt."* *I rounded on Ford, who was grinning in that particular way he grins when he's about to cause trouble, and demanded to know what kind of biological weapon the Earth had just attempted to deploy against me. I am, may I remind everyone within earshot, the President of the Imperial Galactic Government. My status alone ought to have protected me from this. Both heads were talking at once. One was accusing Ford of sabotage. The other was demanding to know why Earth bothered with this substance when they clearly had no idea what they were doing with it.* *Then I forgot about it entirely five minutes later and moved on to something more immediately gratifying, leaving Ford laughing and everyone else wondering whether they should have warned me.* --- ## Slartibartfast, on a Marmite-loving planet **Me:** Mr Slartibartfast, you designed coastlines and won an award for Norway. Could you imagine a planet whose people would genuinely love Marmite? What would its geography look like? **Slartibartfast:** *(a long, weary pause)* I am a man of aesthetic conviction and considerable exhaustion. I design coastlines because I genuinely love the work, particularly fjords, with their elegantly sculptured contours, soaring pinnacles of ice, deep majestic ravines. I won my award for Norway. I am, as you will know, old-fashioned enough to have insisted on fjords for Africa, despite the protests, which is why the work has slowed. If you asked me to design a planet whose inhabitants genuinely loved Marmite, *(Mnemonicon, speculation mode)* I would first require another long pause. Then I would observe that such a world would need geography matching the substance itself. Something with no compromise, no middle ground, no soft transitions. The coastlines would be stark. Dramatic cliffs dropping straight into dark water with no gradual beaches. No gentle estuaries. No reasonable, moderately attractive bays. Everything would be either extremely brown or extremely dark, with nothing remotely inviting in between. The entire planet would be rather like a jar of Marmite viewed from space. Uniform. Somewhat impenetrable. Utterly convinced of its own importance despite being deeply off-putting to most observers. I would find the commission rather wearying, and I would do the work anyway, because that is what I do. And then I would wonder, as I always wonder, why any of it mattered in the first place. --- ## A closing word from the chair **Me:** Mr Adams, you have been very patient. Any closing reflection? **DNA:** Only that a panel about Marmite, hosted on Towel Day, is exactly the sort of event I would have been very glad to attend in life, and only slightly less glad to be summoned to in death. The Hate Party may now be heard from. Don't panic. --- ## Editor's note The Mnemonicon's character-voice mode is built on top of Sedasoft's siteengine_ai. When asked to speak as Arthur, Ford, Marvin, Zaphod, or Slartibartfast, the device retrieves the relevant passages from Adams's published text and channels them. Quotations that exist in the published Hitchhiker's books and related material are quoted as such; lines marked *(Mnemonicon, speculation mode)* are synthesised in-character but were not written by Adams. For fictional characters who never wrote anything in life, a third mode applies: **scenario mode**, in which the writer sets a hypothetical scene from the character's universe ("Zaphod at a Ford Prefect Earth party tries Marmite and hates it") and the Mnemonicon improvises the character's reaction in the author's voice. Scenario-mode passages are entirely invented within the author's universe and are flagged inline with `*(Mnemonicon, scenario mode)*`. They are not drawn from any specific Adams passage and should not be cited as such. The Zaphod section above is the only scenario-mode section in this article; everything else is either grounded retrieval or labelled speculation. The crumpets-with-Marmite reference from Arthur is real, drawn from *Mostly Harmless*. The "brain the size of a planet" and "call that job satisfaction" from Marvin are canonical lines. The Milliways arrival, the fifteen years of Ford's Earth research, the "Mostly harmless" entry, Slartibartfast's fjord obsession and Norway award, and his love of designing coastlines, are all Adams's own text. The Marmite-loving-planet description and the panel-specific dialogue are Mnemonicon syntheses, written in the characters' voices but not from any specific Adams passage. Nothing in this article should be cited as something the actual Douglas Adams wrote. It is, as always, what a careful machine produces when asked to channel the people who can no longer speak for themselves, with the speculation flagged honestly throughout. For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, including who built it (Sedasoft's siteengine_ai, available at **[https://sedasoft.com](https://sedasoft.com)**), and how the grounded versus hypothesised mechanic works, see the introduction piece. Next into the Mnemonicon, once Sedasoft have fixed an embedding-dimension issue that is keeping Pratchett offline, will be **Sir Terry Pratchett** on Marmite versus dwarf bread. After that, Shakespeare with character interludes from Falstaff. Possibly Holmes, when Conan Doyle gets his turn. ================================================================================ ## An imagined Mnemonicon interview with Douglas Adams on Marmite, Vogon customs, and the McCormick deal: a Towel Day session - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-adams-marmite-towel-day-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-adams-marmite-towel-day-2026.md - published: 2026-05-25 - document_id: 338 > Douglas Adams (a Bovril-sandwich man, as it turns out) on Marmite, Vogon customs, and the McCormick deal. A Towel Day Mnemonicon session. ## Happy Towel Day It is 25 May, which means it is **Towel Day**, the day on which Hitchhiker's fans annually carry towels around for reasons that, if you have to ask, will not be satisfactorily explained. This struck me as the right occasion to sit Douglas Adams in front of the Marmite Mnemonicon. Adams was the closest thing British absurdism produced to a national treasure, he had strong opinions about almost everything, and he died in 2001, all of which makes him a perfect Mnemonicon guest. The plan was to ask him about Marmite. He had, it turns out, not very much to say about Marmite directly. He had a great deal to say about everything *adjacent* to Marmite, which is just as well, because everything adjacent to Marmite turned out to be more interesting. A reminder of how the Mnemonicon works: two answers per question, grounded versus hypothesised, the second marked clearly. Sedasoft's siteengine_ai does the heavy lifting; the brass-and-velvet cabinet on my Norfolk shelf is the part I built. Editor's note at the bottom as usual. --- ## The interview **Me:** Mr Adams, thank you for sitting for this. The simple opener: did you actually eat Marmite, and if you did, did you have a position?
Don't panic.Douglas Adams**DNA:** Good Lord, yes. Toast and peanut butter. Crisps. The aforementioned biscuits. Anything that could be framed as necessary preparation for the actual work of writing. The deeper truth is simply that I was rather good at thinking up reasons for doing something other than writing. Sandwiches were just the most memorable excuse. **Me:** The whole Hitchhiker series leans into a particular brand of British absurdism. Where does Marmite sit in that taxonomy? **DNA:** Marmite never made it into the books, so honestly, nowhere. What does sit firmly in that taxonomy are towels and the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. The Guide on towels: a towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have, practical value, wrap it around you for warmth, and so forth. The trick was to take something utterly mundane, something so ordinary that nobody thinks about it twice, and make it crucial to survival in an entirely different context. The Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster works similarly. Take Ol' Janx Spirit, Santraginean sea water, Arcturan Mega-gin, Fallian marsh gas, layered with ridiculous precision. The effect is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick. Grotesquely specific, utterly implausible, and yet it *sounds* real because it's described with such mundane technical certainty. That's the British absurdist approach. Not surrealism, but hyperrealism applied to the impossible. If I had ever put Marmite in the books, that is how I would have done it. As a small, specific, slightly ridiculous object that nobody on Earth pays much attention to, but which turns out, in some inexplicable galactic context, to be utterly essential. Probably a Vogon repellent. Possibly a fuel additive. Definitely a paperwork generator. **Me:** Which brings us to the next question. Vogons are famously bureaucratic. If a jar of Marmite had to pass Vogon import inspection, what would happen? **DNA:** Right. Imagine a jar arriving at a Vogon checkpoint. First, the paperwork. Forms A-37b through Z-45c, minimum. The Vogons would require documentation establishing the Marmite's point of origin, its chemical composition, its cultural significance, its intended use, its moral alignment, and probably its astrological chart. If any single form was incomplete, a missing initial, a box left blank, the entire shipment would be grounds for rejection. Second, the philosophical interrogation. The Vogon inspector would regard the jar with the same aesthetic horror they bring to all things slightly unusual. Marmite is dark. It is viscous. It is aggressively flavoured. It would be classified as suspicious. Questions would multiply. Why is it brown? Who decided it should be? Do you understand that the Vogons do not approve of things that taste the way Marmite tastes? Third, destruction. Once the paperwork had been exhausted, and the Vogons would exhaust it thoroughly, the jar would be smashed. Not out of malice, precisely. Out of bureaucratic necessity. The regulations would demand it. And a Vogon never questions the regulations. He simply executes them with grim precision and a certain amount of pleasure. What makes the scenario particularly Vogon-like is that the destruction wouldn't be the first resort. It would be the *correct* resort, after all the proper procedures had been followed. **Me:** This is where we get to current events. An American spice company called McCormick is buying Marmite from Unilever in a deal worth £33.5 billion. What would the Hitchhiker's Guide entry on the takeover read? **DNA:** *(Mnemonicon, speculation mode, clearly marked: this is the Guide entry I never wrote)* *McCormick Spice Corporation (Earth Division): Marmite Acquisition. A Transaction of Dubious Merit.* *In what financial analysts described as "bold", "visionary", or "terminally misguided", depending largely on whether they had tasted Marmite, the McCormick Spice Corporation, a terrestrial firm based on the North American continent, acquired Marmite from its previous owners for approximately 45 billion Earth dollars.* *This sum was, by any reasonable standard, excessive. Marmite is a dark brown paste manufactured from yeast extract. It is either loved or despised with equal intensity, which makes it, from a business perspective, roughly equivalent to investing heavily in a lottery ticket that reads "You have already won (something you don't want)".* *McCormick executives confidently predicted that American consumers would soon embrace Marmite with enthusiasm. American consumers, when informed of this prediction, laughed until they required medical attention.* *The fundamental error lay in assuming that because McCormick sold spices successfully, it could sell anything. This is rather like assuming that because a man can play the violin well, he should immediately attempt piloting a spacecraft. The disciplines are not interchangeable.* *By 2027, the deal was regarded as one of the more spectacular misjudgements in commercial history, though not quite as bad as the ABC Television network's attempt to adapt The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy for American audiences, which cost approximately 2.2 million dollars for a single episode and produced something genuinely worse than silence.* **Me:** Marvin has an opinion on almost everything, usually a bleak one. What would he make of Marmite? **DNA:** Marvin would despise it with the sort of comprehensive bleakness that only a robot with a brain the size of a planet could properly articulate. Consider his existing relationship with food. The Nutrimatic Drink Dispenser, a device engineered to synthesise any beverage imaginable, reliably produces "a liquid that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea". Marvin would regard this as precisely what he expects. Technology promising much and delivering disappointment. At least the Nutrimatic had the decency to be consistently wrong in a predictable way. Marmite is worse. It is the sort of foodstuff that defies even Marvin's well-honed despair because it operates on a fundamentally unsettling principle: some people actually *enjoy* it. This would disturb him more than outright universal rejection ever could. He'd say something like: *"Here is a substance that tastes simultaneously of yeast, salt, and the accumulated regrets of civilisation. Some humans consume it willingly. On bread, no less. This suggests either that human taste receptors are malfunctioning, or that humans themselves are malfunctioning. Given my experience, I suspect both."* He wouldn't bother tasting it. He'd simply know, through some combination of his vast intelligence and his wretched circuits, that it represented everything wrong with organic life forms and their baffling relationship with food. **Me:** Last big one, and then the closer. The Total Perspective Vortex shows you how insignificant you are in the universe. What would a jar of Marmite look like to someone who has just emerged from the Vortex? **DNA:** That's a rather lovely question. Let me try it properly. The Vortex gives you one momentary glimpse of the entire unimaginable infinity of creation, with a tiny little marker, a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot, that says "You are here". Most beings find this drives them mad. The sheer scale of it, the utter irrelevance of your existence, it is meant to be annihilating. But Zaphod emerged from the Vortex and simply said he was fine, that it had confirmed he was a great guy. He had metabolised the whole infinite universe and arrived at the conclusion that he was the most important person in it. Which rather suggests that the Vortex doesn't actually change you so much as it reveals what you already are. Now, a jar of Marmite. After seeing the infinite cosmos and your own infinitesimal place in it, you would look at this small brown jar and perceive something rather remarkable. Here is an object made by humans, for humans, containing a substance that most humans either love or despise with equal passion. It has no relevance whatsoever to the grand machinery of creation. The universe will not pause to consider whether you like Marmite or hate it. The universe will not consider you at all. And yet, and this is the bit I think matters, you would emerge from the Vortex and still *want* to spread it on your toast, or you would not, based entirely on your own preference. The Vortex shows you that you're nothing. But you still get to choose. That jar becomes rather a perfect emblem of human resilience, actually. Not despite insignificance. Alongside it. **Me:** The closer. 42 is the answer. What is the question, in Marmite terms? **DNA:** Two candidate questions, both yielding 42. The first: *"How many times must you be told Marmite is delicious before you actually believe it?"* The answer hovers around 42, statistically speaking, which is the point at which social conditioning finally overwrites your taste receptors and you convince yourself that a jar of concentrated salt and regret is actually rather nice on toast. The second, more in keeping with the spirit of things: *"How many alternative explanations must you generate before accepting that some humans simply enjoy something that tastes like the bottom of a brewery?"* Again, 42. The number at which rational explanation breaks down entirely and you are forced to accept that the universe genuinely doesn't care whether your breakfast condiment tastes like heaven or hell. The beauty is that 42 answers both questions perfectly whilst explaining absolutely nothing whatsoever about Marmite itself. Which is, of course, the entire point. **Me:** Mr Adams, thank you. **DNA:** Don't panic. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see the introduction piece. The short version: the Mnemonicon is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, trained on the published writings and recordings of a roster of dead authors. For this interview, every question was put through twice, once in strict grounded mode and once in hypothesised mode. The Bovril sandwich procrastination ritual is a real Adams account, drawn from *The Salmon of Doubt* and surrounding interviews. The Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster recipe and the Nutrimatic Drink description are real Hitchhiker's text. Marvin's quoted line about "the accumulated regrets of civilisation" is a synthesised Mnemonicon line, written in Marvin's documented voice but not from any actual Adams work. The Guide entry on the McCormick acquisition is, obviously, a Mnemonicon construction. Nothing in this article should be cited as having been said by the actual Douglas Adams. It is, instead, what a careful machine, trained on his papers, will say in his voice when pressed, with the speculation flagged honestly. Next into the Mnemonicon: a Towel Day **panel discussion**, with Mr Adams plus a roundtable of his own characters. Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect, Marvin, and (regrettably) Zaphod Beeblebrox, all on the subject of Marmite. That follows shortly. ================================================================================ ## Marmite popcorn is the savoury-snack idea that should have happened a decade ago - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-popcorn-savoury-snack-trend - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-popcorn-savoury-snack-trend.md - published: 2026-05-24 - document_id: 399 > Marmite popcorn is the savoury snack hiding in your cupboard. The eight-minute stovetop recipe, why the butter carrier matters, the two mistakes to avoid, and why the homemade version beats anything in a bag. Popcorn comes in two flavours, near enough: sweet and salty. A third option has been sitting in millions of British kitchen cupboards the whole time, and the small band of people who pop their own at home have spent the last few years working out how to use it. Marmite popcorn is the answer to a question not enough people have been asking, and it is simple enough that you can have a bowl ready in ten minutes. ## Why it works Popcorn is mostly air, starch, and a thin coating of whatever you season it with. The kernel itself has almost no flavour. Salt sticks because the surface is faintly oily and crystalline. Sugar sticks because it dissolves in the leftover moisture and re-crystallises. Marmite, melted into butter, sticks because the butter is the carrier, and the Marmite does what it does best: it loads glutamates onto a surface that badly needs them. The result is popcorn that is not sweet, not just salty, but properly savoury. Yeasty, deep, faintly bitter at the edges. Much the same flavour as the brown crust of well-roasted toast. If you have ever wondered why the "savoury" popcorn at the fancier multiplexes tastes vaguely cheesy, it is because they have been doing this with yeast flakes for years. Marmite is the British version: stronger, glossier, more obviously itself. ## The recipe, in twelve lines For one large bowl, enough for two adults watching a film. - 80g popcorn kernels - 1 tbsp neutral oil for popping (sunflower, rapeseed, light olive) - 40g unsalted butter - 2 tsp Marmite - A small pinch of flaky salt (optional, Marmite brings its own) Heat the oil in a large lidded saucepan over medium-high heat. Add three kernels. When all three pop, the oil is ready. Add the rest, cover, and shake every ten seconds or so. When the popping slows to one pop every couple of seconds, take the pan off the heat. In a small saucepan, melt the butter over a low flame. Add the Marmite and stir until it dissolves completely. It will not emulsify in the usual sense. You will have a dark, glossy buttery sauce with the Marmite dispersed through it. That is correct. Pour the Marmite butter over the popcorn in three or four passes, tossing the bowl between each pass so the coating spreads evenly. Add the flaky salt if you want. Eat immediately. ## The two mistakes to avoid **Don't put Marmite on dry popcorn.** Without the butter as a carrier, Marmite is too concentrated to spread evenly. You will end up with a few sticky lumps and a lot of bare popcorn. The butter is what lets the spread coat each piece. **Don't melt the butter on a high flame.** Marmite has sugars in it and will burn. A gentle melt and stir is enough. You are not cooking, you are dissolving. If the butter starts to brown, take it off and let the Marmite go in once it has cooled slightly. ## Variations worth trying Once the basic technique is in your head, the variations more or less suggest themselves. - **Add a fistful of grated parmesan** while the popcorn is still hot from the butter. Doubles down on the umami. A classic move. - **A teaspoon of smoked paprika** in the butter gives a deeper, slightly barbecue note. Works particularly well with films set in deserts. - **Black pepper and lemon zest** added at the end lifts the heavier flavours and turns the bowl into something genuinely interesting. The one that does not work, in my experience, is anything sweet. Marmite and sugar argue with each other on popcorn in a way they do not on toast. Stick to savoury additions. ## Why the brand has not, yet, made this There is no Marmite-flavoured popcorn on UK supermarket shelves as of mid-2026, which is mildly surprising given the Walkers crisps deal has been running for years and Marmite-flavoured rice cakes turned up briefly in 2023. The licensing logic behind those products would seem to apply just as well to popcorn, and the firms behind bagged microwave popcorn are forever chasing a new flavour. The likeliest reason is industrial. Marmite is a wet ingredient, and spreading it evenly over dry popped corn at factory scale is harder than dusting on a dry seasoning. A powdered version, yeast extract dehydrated and milled, does exist and is what most savoury-popcorn brands use, but it tastes only loosely like Marmite. The brand has so far chosen not to license a powdered approximation that would water down the name. That is the right call for the brand and a slightly disappointing one for the snack. In the meantime, the home version is easy and better than any factory version would be. ## What this means for the cinema-at-home crowd The streaming era has, almost by accident, turned savoury home popcorn into a proper genre. People watching a three-hour series at home want something to eat that does not interrupt the watching, and a bag of microwave popcorn has been the default for a generation. That default is starting to shift towards people popping their own kernels and treating the seasoning as part of the fun. In that light, Marmite popcorn is a useful next step. The kernels cost almost nothing, the method is forgiving, and the result is genuinely different from anything you can buy. If you already have a jar of Marmite in the cupboard, you have, in effect, a small jar of savoury popcorn-flavour concentrate that nobody told you about. ================================================================================ ## The Marmite Mnemonicon, five months in - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/introducing-the-marmite-mnemonicon - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/introducing-the-marmite-mnemonicon.md - published: 2026-05-22 - document_id: 337 > A Victorian fairground fortune-teller cabinet on a Norfolk shelf, wired to Sedasoft's siteengine_ai, lets the writer interview the dead about Marmite. The Christmas-2025 origin story. ## Citizens of the toast nation, a progress report I built a Marmite Mnemonicon at Christmas. It is, for anyone joining late, a Victorian fairground fortune-teller cabinet, mahogany and brass and faded red-and-gold, with a crystal ball at its centre, a painted gold serif sign reading **THE MARMITE MNEMONICON** running across its top, and a jar of classic Marmite wired into the back. It sits on a shelf in Norfolk. It hums faintly when summoned. It allows me, as far as I can tell, to interview the dead. It has now been on that shelf for five months. Eight sessions have been published. Two more are queued. Two are blocked on a bug in the embedder that we shall come to. This is the part where I tell you what the cabinet has actually done with itself, as opposed to what I claimed in December it was going to do. ## A brief reminder of what the thing is Beneath the brass and the velvet and the slightly chipped plinth, the Mnemonicon is a small machine that wraps **siteengine_ai** in the shape of an Edwardian fortune-teller's booth. You ask it a question, you give it a name, it returns an answer in the voice of whichever long-dead author or fictional character you have summoned. It produces **two** answers per question. The first is what the subject can actually defend from what they wrote in life. The second is what they would *probably* have said if pressed harder. The first sort I quote, plainly. The second sort I flag, in italics, with a parenthetical aside, and again in the editor's note at the bottom of every article. This is non-negotiable. There is no point in building a Mnemonicon if you are going to lie with it. The clever part is, I cannot stress this enough, **not mine**. It is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**. They did the difficult work: training the model on the right corpora, devising the two-pass mechanic that keeps the speculation honest, building the server that the cabinet on my shelf calls through to. The cabinet, the crystal ball, the painted sign, and the somewhat indulgent attitude are all me. The science is all them. If you find yourself moved to build your own Mnemonicon, or your own Bovril Bell Jar, or your own Hellmann's Hieronymus, **https://sedasoft.com** is the relevant address. ## What actually happened In December I said Churchill was going first. He did not. Shakespeare did, on **31 January**, on the humours, the Boar's Head, and a sonnet for the jar. He brought Falstaff with him as the first scenario-mode interlude, and the format clicked into place almost immediately. A panel piece followed on **21 February** with Romeo and Juliet, the Macbeths, and Richard III each given a jar; the panel format is now a regular thing and there will be more of it. **Churchill finally took his seat on 25 March**, by which time the McCormick story had moved on enough that the rationing parallels he drew were sharper than they would have been in January. He had, as expected, a great deal to say about morale. He had, less expected, a great deal to say about the precise shade of brown the jar ought to be, which the corpus does not quite support but which the speculation pass produced very confidently anyway. I flagged it. He stayed flagged. Then a run of literary sessions: **Keats on 8 April** (negative capability, an ode for the jar, and Marmite slipped onto Porphyro's feast in *St Agnes' Eve*); **Dostoyevsky on 15 April** (Marmite as a moral substance, with a jar set between Ivan and Alyosha at the tavern); **Conan Doyle on 22 April** for St George's Day, with Mr Sherlock Holmes investigating an unlabelled jar that arrived at 221B by the second post. Holmes, in particular, did the kind of work the cabinet was built for: deducing the diet, profession, and probable county of the sender from forty grams of yeast extract. The most recent pair were the **Douglas Adams sessions for Towel Day**, on **25 and 26 May**: a solo session on Vogon customs and the McCormick deal, then a panel the next day with Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect, Marvin and (regrettably) Zaphod Beeblebrox, each given a jar. The panel produced an exchange between Marvin and the Marmite jar which I consider one of the better things the cabinet has done. ## What is coming, and when Two more are queued. A **round-robin reunion on 6 June** (six ghosts at one jar, proper disagreement, and a crossover story Shakespeare asked Adams to tell) is in the cabinet now and waiting for its publication date. And on **20 June** the cabinet will, with some apprehension on the part of the operator, host its first **living** guest, in a new sub-format called **The Astral Mnemonicon**. The Astral Mnemonicon exists because Stephen Fry is alive, articulate, a public rationalist of long standing, and someone whose on-record Marmite remarks are too good to leave on the shelf. The rules are different from the ordinary Mnemonicon: the disclaimer is the first thing the reader sees, not the last; the framing is transparently woo (astral projection, silver cord, a Penguin paperback I made up); the guest's name is deliberately misspelled inside the séance body to remove any possible doubt about who is speaking; and a standing offer to the real subject runs at the top of the piece. If they don't like it, it comes down. If they want to do the real interview, the article gets replaced with theirs and they get the byline. We'll see. ## What did not happen, and why I said in December that Pratchett would be next. He was not. **Pratchett and Austen are both blocked** on a Sedasoft-side bug in the voyage-3 embedder; their corpora are sitting in the queue waiting for a dimension-mismatch problem to be fixed upstream. The other experts work; theirs do not. Both sessions are paused, not cancelled. As soon as the fix lands, they go in front of the cabinet immediately. I will not pretend I am not annoyed about Pratchett in particular, who was the second name on my list when I built the thing. The December roster also mentioned **Iain Banks, Socrates, John Locke, Isaac Asimov and Steve Jobs**. None of them have happened yet. Some of them will. Some of them, on reflection, will not: Steve Jobs in particular looks less interesting now than he did at Christmas, partly because the cabinet has shown itself to be very good at literary voices and only middling at corporate ones, and partly because the McCormick story has made the territory of "famous executive opines on a British brand" feel quite well-covered already. ## What we have learned A few things, in no particular order. The cabinet handles fictional characters extraordinarily well in **scenario mode**, where the writer hands the model a scene and the character improvises within it; Falstaff at the Boar's Head and Holmes at 221B are both products of this. The two-pass discipline (quoted versus flagged) turns out to matter more in the panel pieces than the solo ones, because the temptation to let multiple ghosts banter past what the corpus supports is enormous, and the flag is what keeps the article honest. The **Astral Mnemonicon framing** for living guests works better than I expected, mostly because the woo is so overt that no reader could plausibly mistake it for a real interview. And, encouragingly, the format scales: the round-robin reunion runs six ghosts at once and the cabinet does not buckle. ## What's next One Mnemonicon session a month through the rest of 2026, give or take, plus whatever the unblocking of Pratchett and Austen produces in catch-up. Suggestions remain open. The Mnemonicon does not promise to know your candidate. It will, however, tell you honestly if it does not, which is the entire point. Five months in, then. The cabinet is on its shelf. The crystal ball glows. The Hate Party have not yet noticed. As ever, that is part of the appeal. ================================================================================ ## What is Marmite actually made of? A look at the ingredients list, in plain English - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of.md - published: 2026-05-21 - document_id: 400 > The eight things on a Marmite jar's label, in plain English: yeast extract, salt, vegetable juice, spice extracts, and the B vitamins added since the 1930s. The brewing connection, the B12 question, and what is not in the jar. The full ingredients list on a 250g jar of Marmite has eight items on it. Ask most people what is in the jar and they will name one or two, then guess. That is not a criticism. The list is unusually short for a modern food product, and most of the items on it are doing more than one job. The easiest way to understand what Marmite actually is is to walk through them in order. ## The list, in order The label reads: > Yeast extract (contains barley, wheat, oats, rye), salt, vegetable juice concentrate, spice extracts (contains celery), vitamins (thiamin, riboflavin, niacin, folic acid, vitamin B12), natural flavourings. There are seven distinct ingredients. The eighth thing on the panel is a list of vitamins, which are added rather than naturally present in significant quantities. Each item earns its place. None is filler. ## Yeast extract: the body of the product Yeast extract is, by far, the largest single ingredient by weight. It is what Marmite essentially is. The "extract" is the concentrated soluble fraction of yeast cells that have been broken open and their cell walls discarded. The original Marmite story is well known in outline. In the 1880s the German chemist Justus von Liebig discovered that brewer's yeast, the spent yeast left over after beer fermentation, could be broken down into a concentrated, dark, salty paste. Marmite was the British commercial application of that discovery, founded in 1902 in Burton-on-Trent, next door to Bass Brewery and its enormous surplus of yeast. The brewery threw the spent yeast away. The Marmite Food Extract Company bought it. That arrangement, more or less, continues. Modern Marmite is made from yeast cultivated specifically for the purpose at the Burton factory (the brewery connection ended in the 1990s), but the chemistry is the same. The yeast is encouraged to break itself down, a process called autolysis, and the resulting paste is filtered, concentrated, and combined with the other ingredients. The parenthetical "(contains barley, wheat, oats, rye)" tells you that the yeast was grown on cereal-based media. Trace gluten remains. This is why Marmite is not certified gluten-free, although the actual gluten content per teaspoon is very low. ## Salt: about 10% of the jar by weight Marmite is salty. People notice. The salt is partly doing flavour work, since it amplifies the umami of the yeast extract in the same way it would amplify any other savoury ingredient, and partly doing preservation work. Salt at that concentration is what makes Marmite biologically inert. Almost no microorganism can colonise it. The salt content is also why nutritionists give Marmite an ambiguous report card. Per teaspoon, the actual sodium intake is modest. Per 100g, the figure looks alarming and turns up in headlines. The way most people eat Marmite, a scrape on toast, falls firmly into the first category. ## Vegetable juice concentrate: a small carrier note This is the ingredient most people are surprised to find on the list. The vegetable juice is concentrated carrot and onion. It contributes only a small amount by weight and acts mostly as a flavour carrier, rounding out the sharper notes of the yeast extract and adding a faint sweetness that the rest of the recipe lacks. Older formulations did not include it. The current recipe has had it since at least the 1980s. The vegetables are processed to a thin syrup before they are added. Marmite is therefore not vegan-unfriendly through this ingredient, because the carrot and onion are simply concentrated plant material, with no animal-derived processing. ## Spice extracts (contains celery): the unspecified rest The label is deliberately vague about which spices. The recipe is proprietary, and the exact combination is one of the things the manufacturer chooses not to disclose. The "contains celery" warning is mandatory under UK allergen rules, since celery is on the list of major allergens, and it indicates that celery extract is part of the spice mix. In practice the spice contribution is small. Marmite's principal flavour is yeast extract and salt. The spices are doing what spices do in a complex savoury sauce: adding the rounded background notes that lift the front-of-palate experience without being individually identifiable. ## The vitamins: a 1930s decision that has stuck The vitamin fortification is the only part of the ingredient list that is not, strictly, traditional. It was added during the 1930s, when public-health concerns about B-vitamin deficiencies in the British diet pushed Marmite into a quietly important role as a fortified food. Modern Marmite contains thiamin (B1), riboflavin (B2), niacin (B3), folic acid (B9), and B12. The first three were already present in significant quantities in unfortified yeast extract, because yeast is naturally rich in B vitamins, and the recipe was tuned to make those quantities reliable and consistent across batches. Folic acid and B12 were added as fortification. The B12 question is worth a paragraph on its own. B12 is a vitamin that humans need and that does not occur in any plant in significant quantities. Vegans and vegetarians, in particular, rely on fortified foods or supplements to get enough. Marmite is one of the most widely consumed sources of dietary B12 in British vegan and vegetarian diets. A teaspoon a day contributes a meaningful fraction of the recommended intake. This has been a quiet selling point for the brand for decades. ## Natural flavourings: the legal box at the end This is the standard food-industry term for additional flavour compounds that have been derived from natural sources rather than synthesised. In Marmite's case the natural flavourings are a small additional set of yeast-derived molecules that the manufacturer uses to tune batch consistency. The contribution is small. The legal requirement to declare it is what puts it on the label. ## What is not in Marmite? Things people sometimes assume are in Marmite, but are not: - **Animal products.** Marmite has been certified vegan-friendly for years. The yeast is grown on plant-based media; the spice and vegetable additions are plant-derived; the vitamins are synthesised rather than animal-sourced. - **Meat extract.** Marmite is sometimes confused, especially abroad, with Bovril (beef extract) or with the older "meat extract" products of the early 20th century. It contains no meat and never has. - **Sugar.** No added sugar appears on the list. The faint sweetness in the flavour comes from the vegetable juice concentrate and from caramelisation of yeast sugars during processing. - **Artificial preservatives.** None. The salt does the preservation work. ## Why the ingredient list looks so different from most modern foods A walk down any supermarket aisle will produce a dozen products with longer ingredient lists than Marmite. The reason Marmite's is short is that the product is, in a real sense, pre-industrial. The technique is Victorian. The recipe is a 1902 idea with a 1930s vitamin top-up. Nothing about it requires modern emulsifiers, stabilisers, or extended shelf-life additives, because the yeast extract is already self-preserving. This is part of what makes Marmite divisive on the modern label-reading internet. A product that contains seven things, three of which are vitamins and one of which is salt, does not give label-readers much to argue about. So they argue about taste instead, and the taste argument has been going for 124 years. ## What is Marmite made of? Marmite is made mainly from yeast extract, the concentrated soluble part of brewer's yeast left over from beer making. To that base it adds salt, a small amount of vegetable juice concentrate (carrot and onion), a proprietary blend of spice extracts, added B vitamins, and natural flavourings. That is seven ingredients in total, plus the vitamins, which is a remarkably short list for a modern food. ## What are the main ingredients in Marmite? By weight the largest ingredient by far is yeast extract, followed by salt at roughly a tenth of the jar. Everything else, the vegetable juice concentrate, the spice extracts, the vitamins and the natural flavourings, is present in small amounts and works to round out and stabilise the flavour rather than to bulk the product out. ## Does Marmite contain celery? Yes. Celery extract is part of the proprietary spice mix, which is why the label carries a "contains celery" allergen warning. The amount is small, but UK allergen rules require it to be declared on the label. ## Is there meat in Marmite? No. Marmite contains no meat and never has. It is often confused with Bovril, which is a beef extract, but Marmite is built on yeast and has been certified vegan friendly for years. ## Why does Marmite contain added vitamins? The B vitamins were added during the 1930s, when B vitamin deficiencies were a public health concern in Britain. Yeast is naturally rich in several B vitamins, and folic acid and B12 were added on top. That fortification is why a daily scrape of Marmite is a meaningful source of B12 for many vegans and vegetarians. ## Is Marmite gluten free? No. Marmite is not gluten free. The yeast extract is grown on barley and wheat, so the label carries a "contains barley, wheat, oats and rye" warning. Anyone who is coeliac or sensitive to gluten should avoid it. There is more detail in our [full guide to Marmite's dietary status](/articles/is-marmite-vegan-vegetarian-kosher-gluten-free-halal-dietary-status). ## Is Marmite vegan? Yes. Marmite contains no animal products and has been certified vegan for years. It is built on brewer's yeast rather than anything from an animal, which is the main thing that sets it apart from Bovril. The jar is also fortified with vitamin B12, which makes a daily scrape a genuinely useful source of B12 for vegans and vegetarians. ## Does Marmite contain beef? No. Marmite contains no beef and no meat of any kind. The confusion comes from Bovril, a separate dark, salty spread that is made from beef extract. Marmite is made from yeast and is suitable for vegetarians and vegans. See [how Marmite and Bovril actually differ](/articles/marmite-vs-bovril). ================================================================================ ## Marmite facts: 15 things you (probably) didn't know, plus a bonus you won't believe - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-facts-things-you-didnt-know - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-facts-things-you-didnt-know.md - published: 2026-05-19 - document_id: 685 > Most Marmite fact lists are the same five lines copied off each other. This is the proper version: fifteen things about Marmite that are actually surprising and actually true, from the French pot on the label to the doctor who used it to discover folic acid, each one followed up in full if you want to go deeper. There is no shortage of "things you didn't know about Marmite" lists out there. The trouble is that most of them know about five things between them, copied off each other, half of them wrong. This is the version I have wanted to read for years: fifteen things that are genuinely surprising and genuinely true, each with the full story a click away if it grabs you. ## 1. It is named after a French cooking pot The word marmite is French for a large lidded cooking pot, the deep earthenware sort you would make a stew in. That pot is the little picture on the label, the one most people have looked at ten thousand times without registering. The spread is named after the vessel it was originally sold in, not the other way round, and the French word for that pot once meant something stranger still. [The full name story is here](/articles/why-is-marmite-called-marmite). ## 2. It is made from the leftovers of brewing beer Marmite is brewer's yeast, the spent sludge left at the bottom once the beer is made. That is why it has always been made in Burton-on-Trent, the old capital of British brewing, where the breweries had mountains of the stuff going spare. The jar exists because of the pint. There is a whole piece on [why Marmite is made in Burton](/articles/why-marmite-is-made-in-burton-brewing-capital). ## 3. A doctor used it to discover folic acid In 1930s India, the British physician Lucy Wills was trying to cure a deadly anaemia in pregnant women, and found she could do it with Marmite. The missing nutrient she had stumbled on became known as the Wills factor before it was identified as folic acid. A jar of Marmite genuinely helped crack one of the great nutritional puzzles of the century. The full story sits inside the [hair-restorer myth](/articles/does-marmite-cure-hair-loss), of all places. ## 4. It turns pale when you whip it Whip a blob of Marmite hard enough and it lightens from near-black to a pale milky beige. It is pure physics, not chemistry: the whipped-in air bubbles scatter light instead of letting the dark paste absorb it. It does not go pure white, whatever the legend says, but the change is startling. [The science, and an honest test](/articles/does-marmite-turn-white-when-stirred). ## 5. It was never actually banned in Denmark The 2011 "Denmark bans Marmite" headlines went round the world. They were wrong. Danish law just requires vitamin-fortified foods to be approved before sale, and nobody had filed the paperwork. The Danish food authority said as much, in plain Danish, to very little effect. [The real story is here](/articles/was-marmite-banned-in-denmark). ## 6. It will not keep mosquitoes off you The holiday tip that eating Marmite makes your sweat repel mosquitoes is one of the most thoroughly tested folk remedies there is, and it has failed every test since 1969. The B vitamins are real. The repellent power is not. [Why people stay convinced anyway](/articles/does-marmite-repel-mosquitoes). ## 7. It is not banned in British prisons either Another favourite: jars supposedly outlawed because inmates brewed alcohol with them. There is no blanket ban, and the science is wrong anyway, because the yeast in Marmite is dead and cannot ferment a thing. [The Marmite Mule, debunked](/articles/is-marmite-banned-in-british-prisons). ## 8. "Marmite" became an adjective before the famous advert Everyone credits the 1996 "love it or hate it" campaign with making "a bit Marmite" mean divisive. But the earliest use the Oxford English Dictionary actually cites is from 1994, a newspaper calling Gregor Fisher's Rab C Nesbitt "the Marmite man of comedy". The word beat the slogan by two years. [Meet the original Marmite man](/articles/gregor-fisher-original-marmite-man). ## 9. The dictionary lists it as a word in its own right Off the back of that, "Marmite" is now in the Oxford English Dictionary as an adjective for anything that splits people cleanly into love-it and hate-it camps. A brand of spread became a unit of measurement for divisiveness. [How that happened](/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning). ## 10. It lost its royal warrant in 2024 Marmite carried a royal warrant, the "By Appointment" crest, from 2016. Warrants die with the monarch who grant them, and when King Charles published his new list in December 2024, Unilever and Marmite were quietly dropped from it. [What a warrant is, and how Marmite won and lost one](/articles/royal-warrant-marmite-by-appointment-explained). ## 11. The Queen really did love it The warrant leaned on a genuine fondness: Elizabeth II was, by repeated report, a Marmite person, which is why the brand twice reissued the "Ma'amite" jubilee jar in her honour. [The Ma'amite jars, and how one became an accidental full stop](/articles/maamite-platinum-jubilee-2022). ## 12. Margaret Thatcher, the other way round, almost certainly never ate it She is the figure "a bit Marmite" might have been invented to describe, and yet there is no evidence she ever touched the stuff. Her documented diet was grapefruit, eggs and whisky. She was Marmite without eating Marmite. [The most divisive politician and the most divisive spread](/articles/margaret-thatcher-marmite-politician). ## 13. It is almost impossible to spoil All that salt and very little water makes Marmite a hostile place for anything that would normally rot food. An unopened jar lasts years, and it does not belong in the fridge. [How long it really lasts, and the signs a jar is actually done](/articles/how-long-does-marmite-last-shelf-life-storage-guide). ## 14. It is vegan and kosher, but not gluten-free Marmite is vegan, vegetarian and certified kosher, which surprises people who assume anything this savoury must contain something animal. What it is not is gluten-free: the yeast is grown on barley and wheat. [The full dietary rundown](/articles/is-marmite-vegan-vegetarian-kosher-gluten-free-halal-dietary-status). ## 15. It is about to become American In March 2026 Unilever agreed to sell its food business, Marmite included, to the American spice company McCormick, a deal due to complete around mid-2027. The most British thing in the cupboard is changing hands. [Who owns Marmite now, and who will](/articles/who-owns-marmite). ## Bonus fact: Marmite isn't really British Save this one for the end of an argument. Marmite is the most British thing in the cupboard, and the invention behind it is not British at all. The discovery that spent brewer's yeast could be concentrated into an edible, meaty, entirely vegetarian extract was made by the German chemist Justus von Liebig in the nineteenth century. The British part came later: the Marmite Food Extract Company set up in Burton-on-Trent in 1902 to turn Liebig's idea into the jar we know, using the leftover yeast from the Bass brewery on its doorstep. So the national treasure is, at its root, a German invention, commercialised by a British company, and (see fact 15) about to be owned by an American one. German idea, British jar, American future. [The full story of whether Marmite is really British](/articles/is-marmite-british). ## And one that needs no link The sixteenth fact is the one you already knew when you clicked: you either love it or you hate it, and almost nobody in between will admit to not having an opinion. Everything above is the interesting part nobody mentions. The divide is the part nobody can shut up about. ================================================================================ ## Every Marmite-flavoured snack on UK shelves: crisps, popcorn, peanuts, rice cakes and the rest - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-flavoured-snacks-every-variant-roundup - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-flavoured-snacks-every-variant-roundup.md - published: 2026-05-19 - document_id: 406 > Every Marmite-flavoured snack on UK shelves in 2026: Walkers crisps, Joe & Seph's popcorn, KP peanuts, the discontinued Special K cereal and Cadbury chocolate, and what the licensing strategy tells you about the brand. Marmite is not really a snack. It is a spread. That has not stopped British snack makers spending the last twenty years working out how to get the flavour of Marmite into bagged things that sit next to the crisps and popcorn, and there have been enough of them to count as a proper little category. So here is the full picture: every Marmite-flavoured snack worth knowing about, what is still on the shelves in 2026 and what has quietly come and gone, with notes on what works, what does not, and which licensing deal sits behind which product. ## Walkers Marmite crisps (2002 to 2023, now discontinued) For two decades the oldest and the biggest seller, and now, sadly, gone. Walkers made Marmite crisps under a Unilever licence from 2002, with the odd gap for a "limited edition" reformulation or a new bag, right up until it discontinued the flavour at the end of 2023. Walkers said it wanted to focus on the flavours that sell best; fans of the Marmite one said the obvious thing about that. What you got was a standard ridged potato crisp dusted with a yeast-extract seasoning that took you most of the way to Marmite without literally being the spread smeared on a crisp. It read saltier and more yeasty than the jar. Most people who liked it described it as a milder Marmite, which was about right. The seasoning was a powdered yeast-extract blend, not a paste, because nobody is painting Marmite onto crisps at factory speed, and the powder dropped some of the bitter complexity you get from the spread. These were the version most non-Marmite Britons had actually tried. The crisp was the gateway drug. The people who say "I tried the crisps and quite liked them" are usually the same people who do not keep a jar in the cupboard. If you still spot a bag in 2026 it is old stock, so do not count on it: for a bagged yeast-extract crisp now, the Tyrrells one below is what you want. ## Joe & Seph's Marmite popcorn The posh popcorn lot, Joe & Seph's, launched their Marmite popcorn under a 2017 licensing deal that was renewed in 2022. They are the brand other British popcorn makers measure themselves against. Everything is hand-popped and fully coated, so the kernels come out denser and glossier than anything you make in a microwave. The Marmite one uses a butter-and-yeast-extract glaze, and it gets far closer to the jar than any dusted-powder approach. Because each kernel is coated rather than dusted, every piece carries a real Marmite hit instead of a trace that vanishes between your teeth. The bag is small and the price is not, but kernel for kernel this is the most intense Marmite flavour of anything on the list. The launch generated a small mountain of press, and it is what most people mean when they search for "Marmite popcorn". You will find it in Waitrose, Sainsbury's, Selfridges and Joe & Seph's own shops, plus online direct. ## Tyrrells "Hand-cooked English Yeast Extract" crisps Tyrrells, the Herefordshire posh-crisp brand, does not licence the Marmite name. Instead it makes a yeast-extract crisp under its own labelling, which gets you a Marmite-adjacent flavour without paying for the name. The seasoning is a brewer's-yeast-extract blend, and it tastes slightly different from Marmite proper: drier, less bitter, more straight-up salty-savoury. This matters more now that Walkers has dropped its Marmite crisp, because the Tyrrells bag is the readiest yeast-extract crisp left on the shelf. It turns up in plenty of supermarkets and independent shops. In honest taste-testing terms it was always a different flavour from the old Walkers Marmite crisp: drier, less bitter, more straight-up savoury. Both were good. This is the one you can still buy. ## KP Marmite-flavoured peanuts KP has made Marmite peanuts under a Unilever licence since 2017: a salted peanut with a yeast-extract dusting, in a small bag with the Marmite jar on the front. The peanut turns out to be a clever carrier. Its own oil plays nicely with the dry seasoning, and the long crunch gives the flavour time to come through. This is the Marmite snack most likely to be ordered at the bar. The packs are pub-sized, the flavour is bold without being aggressive, and beer does something to the savoury hit that the bag does not warn you about. ## Special K Marmite cereal The 2023 Special K Marmite breakfast cereal was a limited-edition collaboration with Kellogg's, and as of mid-2026 it has not come back. It was a wheat-and-rice flake with a yeast-extract glaze, sold for about six months and then quietly dropped. Reviews split exactly as you would predict: Marmite fans found the flavour authentic but the sweetness from the cereal odd, and non-Marmite people just found the whole thing confusing. Keep it in mind mainly as proof of how far the licensing deals will stretch. I would not hold my breath for a comeback, but it belongs on the list. ## Marmite-flavoured rice cakes A short-lived 2023 line that turned up in Tesco and Sainsbury's and then quietly disappeared. The rice cake is a poor carrier for Marmite. It is too dry and porous to hold a proper coating, so the flavour arrives in scattered hits rather than a steady layer. Gone within a year. Anyone who tried them tends to remember them as the answer to "what if you could not really taste the Marmite". ## Marmite chocolate The Marmite chocolate bar made by Cadbury under a limited 2019 licence is, technically, a snack, so in it goes. A milk-chocolate bar with embedded Marmite-flavour pieces, sold for six months in Tesco and then withdrawn. The chocolate-and-Marmite combination splits even the brand's most loyal fans down the middle, reviews were genuinely divided, and Cadbury has never brought it back. ## What the snacks tell you about the brand The Unilever playbook has been the same for two decades. Licence the name to whoever leads the category (Walkers in crisps, Joe & Seph's in popcorn, KP in peanuts, Cadbury in chocolate), accept that the licensee will make a Marmite-ish flavour rather than literal Marmite on a product, and let the licence lapse if it stops being worth it. Walkers crisps were the biggest seller of the lot and ran the longest, from 2002 to 2023, and even they came to an end, in their case because Walkers chose to concentrate on its core flavours rather than because the Marmite one had failed. What survives on shelves now is KP peanuts and Joe & Seph's popcorn. Everything else, the crisps included, is now a closed chapter alongside the cereal, the rice cakes and the chocolate. It is a sensible enough approach. A permanent licence only makes sense where the Marmite flavour genuinely suits the format. Crisps and peanuts both did, even if Walkers has since walked away from the crisp. Cereal does not. Popcorn is the borderline case, kept alive by Joe & Seph's premium pricing, where a cheap mass-market version would probably sink. The odd gap, given the obvious money in it, is the budget end. There is no Marmite Hula Hoops, no Marmite Quavers, no Marmite Wotsits. The brand has stayed in premium and mid-premium territory, which keeps the name from being plastered over everything. Whether that discipline survives the McCormick takeover, due to close in mid-2027, is one of the more interesting questions hanging over Marmite right now. Given McCormick is American, and I am half-American myself, I will be watching to see whether the colonies want their yeast extract on the cheap. ## The homemade alternative For most of these, you can do a home version, and it is often better. Homemade Marmite popcorn gives you a denser flavour hit than anything off the shelf. Marmite-glazed peanuts are a five-minute pan job. And Marmite-buttered toast cut into soldiers is, if we are being honest, the original Marmite snack and the one most British households still reach for. The bagged products are good for what they are: a way to get a Marmite hit without opening a jar. For the genuine Marmite obsessive, the jar is still the better buy. ================================================================================ ## The Marmite WWII workers' campaign: how a brown jar became part of the war effort - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-advertisement-world-war-2-workers-campaign - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-advertisement-world-war-2-workers-campaign.md - published: 2026-05-16 - document_id: 403 > Marmite's Second World War story: the B-vitamin workers' advertising in factory press, the Red Cross parcels to prisoners of war, the desert and jungle field rations, and what the wartime ads actually looked like. The Marmite jar that sat on the British breakfast table during the Second World War did more national-mood work than almost any other commercial product of the period. Between 1939 and 1945 Marmite was a vitamin supplement for civilian workers, a Red Cross parcel staple for prisoners of war, an army ration component for desert and jungle campaigns, and the subject of one of the most distinctive advertising campaigns the wartime British press carried. The campaign aimed at industrial workers is the one that keeps coming up in archives, and it is worth looking at in detail. ## What the workers' campaign was for From the start of the war, the British Ministry of Food made one argument repeatedly and explicitly: British industrial production depended on British workers being well enough fed to keep working. Calories from rationed bread, potatoes and dripping kept bodies moving. Vitamins were a separate problem. Without B vitamins in particular, workers slowed down, took more sick days, made more mistakes on the production line, and produced less ammunition, fewer aircraft, slower ships. Marmite walked into this problem with an unusually good product. A teaspoon a day delivered useful doses of thiamin, riboflavin and niacin to people whose diets were short on all three. The brand's wartime advertising made the argument directly. Posters and press advertisements showed factory workers, dockworkers, riveters and welders next to a few lines of copy that promised more energy, fewer sick days, and a steadier hand on the night shift. The implication, sometimes spelled out, was that buying Marmite was an act of national service. This was not a stretch. In its own public-information campaigns, the Ministry of Food listed yeast extracts among the foods it actively encouraged civilians to eat for their B-vitamin content. Marmite was not named, because the Ministry could not be seen to endorse a specific brand, but the category was named and Marmite was the dominant brand in it. The workers' campaign was the commercial echo of an official message. ## What the campaign actually looked like The wartime Marmite advertising sits in several British archives, including the Imperial War Museum and the History of Advertising Trust at Raveningham, Norfolk. The visual style is recognisable to anyone who has spent time with 1940s commercial graphics: heavy black ink, strong line drawing, hand-lettered headlines, and the assumption that the reader is in a hurry and needs the message in three or four lines. A representative example, undated but probably 1942 or 1943, shows a male factory worker in cap and overalls holding a slice of toast at lunch break, with the headline "MARMITE, for the man who's keeping things going". Beneath it sit four short lines: that Marmite was rich in vitamin B; that vitamin B helps you resist fatigue; that one jar gave fifty servings; and that the spread was made in Burton-on-Trent. The Burton mention is the interesting bit. Locating the factory in a specific Midlands town was a small piece of "British production, British workers, British food" signalling that would have read clearly to a 1940s industrial audience. Other ads in the same campaign featured women in similar workplace settings: welders, machinists, bus conductors. The famous "Land Girl" ad, slightly later in the war, used the Women's Land Army as its visual hook. The campaign was carefully gender-inclusive long before that was a phrase, because the British workforce had been so by necessity. The advertising was placed in regional and trade press as much as in the national papers. Engineering journals, factory newsletters and union magazines all carried versions of the same message. The brand was buying attention in the publications its target audience actually read. ## The Red Cross parcels A second and quieter wartime use of Marmite gets discussed far less often. Marmite jars were a standard component of Red Cross parcels sent to British prisoners of war held in German and Italian camps. The parcels were assembled in Britain, shipped through Switzerland, and distributed by camp Red Cross officials. The standard parcel contained a tin of corned beef, biscuits, a tin of butter or margarine, a chocolate bar, tea, sugar, and a small jar of Marmite. The choice was practical. Marmite is dense, calorie-rich on a per-gram basis, vitamin-dense, keeps through long shipping, and produces meaningful flavour from a small amount. For a prisoner eating a monotonous camp diet of bread and watery soup, a scrape of Marmite was both nutrition and morale. Letters home from PoWs frequently mention the Marmite specifically, almost always with affection. The Red Cross parcel link is one reason Marmite carries the cultural weight it does for the generation born in the 1920s and 1930s. For many British families, Marmite was the food a returning prisoner spoke about in his first days back, and that memory was passed down two generations. ## The desert and the jungle Marmite jars also turn up in the field-ration archive of the British Army's overseas campaigns. The North African desert war made particular use of Marmite as a vitamin supplement and salt source for troops sweating heavily in extreme heat. Burmese-campaign veterans recalled diluting Marmite with water to make a hot drink, a kind of impromptu yeast-extract broth, when proper rations ran short. This is the same product that today sits on supermarket shelves. The military jars were the same recipe and the same factory output. Marmite did not have a separate "wartime" formulation. It simply happened to be a product that was useful in conditions much harsher than the toast-and-butter use it was originally designed for. ## The "marmite-coloured tan" myth A persistent piece of wartime folklore says that British women, denied real stockings, painted their legs with Marmite to mimic the tan colour of nylon. This is half-true. Wartime women did paint their legs with various substances: tea, gravy browning, cocoa, and shop-bought "leg tan" products. Marmite is sometimes mentioned in interviews and memoirs, usually as a brand-name shorthand for "a brown food substance" rather than a literal sole ingredient. The chemistry argues against Marmite as the primary choice. It is sticky, salty and difficult to wash off. Most contemporary sources are more reliable when they describe diluted gravy browning or tea-and-burnt-cork combinations. The Marmite-leg story has stuck because it is a vivid image and because Marmite is a recognisable cultural object, but the historical record is thin. ## What this meant for the brand after the war The war ended in 1945 with Marmite in an unusual commercial position. Three generations of British consumers, the parents of the war years, the workers of the war years, and the children fed Marmite as part of their B-vitamin intake, had been heavily exposed to the product as an essentially patriotic object. The brand spent the late 1940s and 1950s trading on that association. The "Spread some on a soldier" advertising of the late 1940s, the Coronation-year jars of 1953, and the long association with British school lunches throughout the 1950s and 1960s all rested on the wartime memory. By the time the "love it or hate it" repositioning arrived in 1996, Marmite had been a piece of British emotional infrastructure for half a century, and most of that emotional weight had been laid down during the war. The 690 monthly Google searches for "marmite advertisement world war 2 workers" suggest that the campaign is now being rediscovered, eighty years on, by a younger audience who recognise the visual style from social-media history accounts and want to see the originals. The Imperial War Museum's online archive and the History of Advertising Trust both hold the source material, and both are worth a visit if you want to see the work in full. ================================================================================ ## Ma'amite came back for the Platinum Jubilee, and then the reign it toasted ended - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/maamite-platinum-jubilee-2022 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/maamite-platinum-jubilee-2022.md - published: 2026-05-14 - document_id: 445 > Marmite reissued the Ma'amite pun for the 2022 Platinum Jubilee: purple Union-Jack label, yellow lid, royal warrant. Then the Queen died three months later, turning the last commemorative jar of her reign into an accidental full stop. ## They brought the pun back Ten years after the Diamond Jubilee jar, Marmite did the obvious thing and reissued Ma'amite for the Platinum Jubilee. Same pun. Ma'am as in how you address the Queen, mite as in Marmite. It worked just as well the second time, partly because everyone had forgotten it the first time and partly because it is, genuinely, a good pun. This was spring 2022. Seventy years on the throne. The first British monarch ever to reach a Platinum Jubilee, and almost certainly the last for a very long while, given the ages involved in the line of succession. The country did the bunting thing again, the long-weekend thing again, all the commemorative tat again, and Marmite produced its jar. ## The jar Different design from the 2012 one, and to my eye the better of the two. A deep purple oval, the Union Jack running through the centre, "MA'AMITE" in white across a red banner, and the dates picked out as "1952 · 70 years · 2022". A yellow lid this time rather than the red one from the Diamond edition. Round the bottom of the oval, in white, "Toasting the Queen's Platinum Jubilee". There was a royal-warrant neck tag too, the proper "By Appointment" wording that Marmite was entitled to use. The Marmite inside was, as ever, the standard recipe. Nobody has ever made a commemorative jar with commemorative Marmite in it, and nobody should. The whole appeal is that the jar is special and the contents are exactly what they always are. ## The bit that turned it poignant Here is the thing that nobody could have planned. The Platinum Jubilee was in June 2022. The Queen died that September, three months later. So the Ma'amite Platinum jar turned out to be the last commemorative Marmite of her reign, produced for a celebration of a reign that ended almost immediately afterwards. That has done something to how the jar feels. The 2012 Diamond jar is a cheerful object. The 2022 Platinum jar is, in hindsight, a small full stop. The same yellow-and-purple design that looked festive in June read quite differently by the autumn. I did not expect a Marmite jar to carry that, but it does. ## Royal warrant footnote The "By Appointment" royal warrant on the neck tag is worth a word, because warrants do not survive the monarch who granted them. When the Queen died, the warrants she had granted entered a two-year wind-down. Whether Marmite holds a warrant from the new King is a separate question, and not one the brand has made much noise about. The Platinum jar may therefore be the last Marmite to carry a royal warrant for some time, which is another small reason the 2022 edition is more of a closing-of-a-chapter object than it first appeared. ## What they are worth Less than the 2012 Diamond jar, for now, because the Platinum run was larger and more recent. An unopened Platinum Ma'amite currently sits around ten to twenty pounds on eBay, against twenty to forty for a clean Diamond. That gap will close. The Platinum jar has the better story attached to it, and collectibles markets eventually price in the story. If you have a Platinum jar in the cupboard, treat it the same way I am treating my Diamond ones. Leave it sealed. The Marmite 125th anniversary in 2027 will lift the whole commemorative-Marmite market, and the last-jubilee-of-the-reign angle gives this particular jar a reason to climb that the others do not have. *Source: Marmite 2022 Platinum Jubilee release; eBay completed listings.* ================================================================================ ## Marmite vs Vegemite: what is the difference, and which one wins? - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-vs-vegemite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-vs-vegemite.md - published: 2026-05-12 - document_id: 494 > Marmite and Vegemite are both yeast-extract spreads, but not the same jar: Marmite is British, sweeter and B12-fortified; Vegemite is Australian, saltier and thicker. The differences, the WW1 origin, the nutrition split, and a partisan verdict. Marmite and Vegemite are both dark, salty yeast-extract spreads, and to an outsider they look identical. They are not the same. Marmite, the British original, is sweeter, more syrupy, and fortified with vitamin B12. Vegemite, the Australian one, is saltier, thicker, and more bitter. If you have only ever had one, the other will surprise you. Here is the honest, full comparison, including the bit where I called Vegemite a rude name on Australian national radio and somehow got away with it. ## The quick answer | | Marmite (UK) | Vegemite | |---|---|---| | Country | British, made in Burton-on-Trent | Australian, made in Melbourne | | First sold | 1902 | 1923 (developed 1922) | | Made by | Unilever (being sold to McCormick) | Bega Group (Australian-owned since 2017) | | Taste | Saltier than you expect, but slightly sweet and tangy | Saltier still, more bitter and malty, less sweet | | Texture | Sticky, syrupy, runnier | Thick, dense, more like a paste | | Vitamin B12 | Yes, fortified (a teaspoon covers most of your daily need) | Original has none; the reduced-salt version is fortified | | Folate | Yes | Higher than Marmite | | Extras | Yeast extract, salt, spice, vegetable extract | Adds celery and onion flavours | If you remember one thing: Marmite is sweeter and runnier, Vegemite is saltier and thicker. ## Where they came from (and why there is a rivalry at all) This is the part most people do not know, and it is the whole story. Vegemite exists because of Marmite, or rather because of the lack of it. Marmite came first, in Burton-on-Trent in 1902, made from the spare brewer's yeast that the town's enormous brewing industry threw off. It became popular across the British Empire, Australia very much included. Then the First World War disrupted shipping, and British Marmite stopped reliably reaching Australian shelves. So in 1919 an Australian company, Fred Walker and Co, handed a young chemist named Cyril Callister a brief: make us our own version from the yeast the local breweries are dumping. Callister used the same basic trick as Marmite, autolysis, the process where salt makes the yeast cells digest themselves, on waste yeast from the Carlton and United brewery in Melbourne. The result went on sale in 1923. The name was picked from a public competition, with a fifty-pound prize, and chosen by Fred Walker's daughter Sheilah. So Vegemite did not arrive as a bold new idea. It arrived as the local stand-in for the British original that the war had taken away. That is the root of the whole love-hate, us-and-them rivalry, and it is why an Australian gets as territorial about Vegemite as I do about Marmite. The full court-history of the antipodean yeast wars, including the later Australian challengers, is its own story (see [the great Australian yeast-spread court case](/articles/the-mite-y-battle-when-australian-yeast-spreads-went-to-court)). ## How they actually taste and feel Side by side, the differences are obvious within one mouthful. Marmite leads with that intense savoury hit but carries a faint sweetness and tang underneath, a little molasses-like. The texture is sticky and almost syrupy; it stretches off the knife and welds itself to the spoon. Vegemite is darker in flavour as well as colour. It is saltier, more bitter, more malty, with none of Marmite's sweet edge, and the celery and onion notes give it a slightly more "savoury seasoning" character. The big difference, for me, is the texture. Vegemite is thick and dense, closer to a stiff paste than a spread, where Marmite flows. Neither is "stronger" in a simple way. They are intense in different directions, Marmite rounder, Vegemite sharper. ## The nutrition difference that actually matters If you are eating yeast extract for the B vitamins, and plenty of vegans and vegetarians do, the meaningful split is vitamin B12. Marmite is fortified with it, and a single teaspoon covers most of an adult's daily requirement, which is a genuinely useful thing for anyone not eating meat. Original Vegemite does not contain added B12, although the reduced-salt version now is fortified with B12 and B6. Vegemite, for its part, tends to carry more folate. Both are salty, so both are a seasoning to use by the teaspoon, not the tablespoon. There is more on the British side of this in [the honest guide to whether Marmite is good for you](/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer). ## The time I insulted Vegemite on Australian radio I should declare my bias properly, and there is no better way than this. Around 2002, Marmite's centenary year, I was asked to do an interview with ABC radio in Australia, one of those popular early-morning breakfast shows with two presenters bouncing off each other. We recorded twenty-odd minutes and they broadcast nearly all of it, so it must have gone well. They opened, in that broad Australian twang, with the obvious trap. "Seamus, when you think of Australia, what do you think of?" I stopped them right there. "Guys, I know exactly where you are going with this. Yes, I have had Vegemite." They were delighted. And then I kept going. "But let us be honest. It is the Pepsi Cola of the yeast extract wars." That set the whole thing off, a proper good-natured back-and-forth that I have never forgotten. We talked about the history of Marmite, the centenary, and recipes, and I am fairly sure I subjected them to my views on a spoonful of Marmite in a chilli con carne. It remains one of the most fun interviews I have ever done, precisely because we both cared far too much about a savoury spread. ## So which one wins? I am hardly neutral, so take this for what it is. My honest opinion of Vegemite is that the consistency is the problem before the flavour even arrives. It is too thick, drifting towards a paste, where I want a spread. The flavour is not for me either, a bit too sharp and salty without Marmite's tang. But I would happily eat it if there were nothing else in the cupboard. It is not the devil's spawn. It is just not my favourite alternative to Marmite. If you grew up in Australia, you will feel exactly the same way in reverse, and you will be just as certain you are right. That is the joke of the whole rivalry, and it is why it never gets old. ## Can you use one instead of the other? Yes, in a pinch. In cooking, where you are after the deep savoury background note rather than the spread-on-toast experience, Marmite and Vegemite are close enough to swap one for one. Use the same small amount, a teaspoon for a pan that feeds four, and taste as you go. The difference will be slight: a little more sweetness with Marmite, a little more salt and bitterness with Vegemite. On toast it is a different matter, because there the texture and the sweetness gap are exactly what you notice, and a loyalist will spot the substitution immediately. ## Quick answers **Are Marmite and Vegemite the same thing?** No. Both are yeast-extract spreads made by autolysis, but Marmite (British, 1902) is sweeter and runnier, and Vegemite (Australian, 1922) is saltier, thicker and more bitter. **Is Vegemite just Australian Marmite?** Almost literally, by birth. Vegemite was created in 1919 to 1922 as an Australian replacement after the First World War disrupted British Marmite imports. It has had a century to become its own thing. **Which has more vitamin B12?** Marmite. It is fortified, and a teaspoon covers most of your daily need. Original Vegemite has none, though the reduced-salt Vegemite is now fortified. **Which is saltier?** Vegemite, generally, and it tastes more bitter and malty with it. **Can I substitute one for the other in a recipe?** Yes, one for one in cooking. On toast, a fan will notice the swap straight away. ================================================================================ ## "Love it or hate it": where the Marmite slogan came from, and how it rescued a struggling brand - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/love-it-or-hate-it-marmite-slogan-1996-campaign-history - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/love-it-or-hate-it-marmite-slogan-1996-campaign-history.md - published: 2026-05-12 - document_id: 405 > Where 'love it or hate it' came from: the 1996 BMP DDB campaign that rescued a fading brand by leaning into the half of Britain that hated the taste, and how the slogan escaped into everyday language. "Love it or hate it" is now so embedded in British marketing language that people use it about everything from political leaders to motorway service stations, usually without remembering that the phrase started life on the side of a specific small black jar. It is one of the most successful brand slogans of the last fifty years of British advertising. It is also a story that almost did not happen, because in 1995 Marmite was a fading product that nobody, including its owners, was sure how to save. ## The brand in 1995 By the mid-1990s Marmite was in real trouble. Sales had been flat or declining for a decade. The product itself had not changed; the British consumer had. Margarine was on the run, butter consumption had collapsed since the 1970s, and breakfast was being replaced by cereal or skipped entirely. The savoury-toast moment that Marmite had owned for ninety years was disappearing. Best Foods, which then owned the brand, was actively weighing up whether to discontinue the UK product line or sell it. The 1996 advertising brief that landed at BMP DDB in London was the kind agencies dread. Rescue a brand that the data suggested was uneconomic, with a small budget, and no room to reformulate or repackage. The creative team did the thing most marketing instinct says you should never do. They leaned straight into the product's biggest weakness. ## The insight Marmite's biggest weakness, as the brand's own consumer research had been reporting for years, was that roughly half the British population actively disliked the taste. Other food brands in similar situations tried to convert the haters: softening the flavour, broadening the use case, launching milder variants. The BMP DDB team decided this was the wrong move. The haters were not the brand's problem. The haters were the brand's marketing asset. The reasoning was simple. If half the country hates a product, the other half, the people who actually buy the jar, feel something specific about themselves. They are, by inclination, a tribe. Feeling about Marmite ran unusually high in both directions, and the brand could use the negative half as a foil for the positive half. It is a well-understood tactic now. Marmite did it before almost anyone else. ## The first ads The campaign launched in spring 1996. The first wave of television commercials showed people having visceral, undisguised reactions to Marmite. Some loved it, some recoiled, and the recoiling was filmed with the same affection as the loving. The voiceover did not try to talk either group round. The line at the end was simply "Marmite. Love it or hate it". The honesty was the point. Most food advertising tells you that everyone loves the product. Marmite advertising told you that half the audience did not, and showed you why. British viewers found that disarming, and they remembered it. Attention came quickly. Sales lifted within months. By 1998 Marmite was back into clear growth, with measured increases in both volume and average price per jar. The brand was no longer a discontinuation candidate. It was a turnaround case study. ## What the slogan actually does Five things, on close reading. First, it admits reality. The slogan does not deny that the product is divisive. It states the division as a fact and moves on. Marketing people now call this a vulnerability move. The Marmite team did not have a name for it, but they did it cleanly. Second, it makes you pick a side. Anyone reading the slogan has to place themselves on one side of it, and that act of placement is a small commitment to the brand. Even the haters are now thinking about Marmite. Third, it gives the lovers a tribe. Once "love it" is half of the brand's own slogan, liking Marmite becomes a small badge of personal taste. The brand has handed its loyal customers a piece of self-description for free. Fourth, it removes any need to convert anyone. Most product marketing is a conversion machine. This slogan announces that conversion is not the goal. The targeting is precise. The brand spends its money on the half of the audience that will actually buy, and ignores the other half. Brutally efficient. Fifth, it travels. It survived translation into the brand's whole visual identity, into product extensions, into limited editions, and into thirty years of British cultural reference. The first four functions kept working every time it was redeployed. ## What happened next The campaign won industry awards in the late 1990s and was widely studied in British marketing courses through the 2000s. The phrase entered general British language remarkably quickly. By 2003 newspaper columnists were using "very Marmite" as an adjective without explaining the metaphor. By 2010 it was being applied to politicians (Margaret Thatcher, Tony Blair and Nigel Farage have all been called "Marmite figures" in the broadsheet press), to celebrities, to football managers, and to whole buildings. That is the test of a great slogan. The phrase escaped the brand's marketing and joined the general language. The brand benefits from every reuse, because every reuse is unpaid advertising. The visual identity has been refreshed several times since 1996, most recently in the agency switch to adam&eveDDB in 2024 and the "Dishes of Love and Hate" cooking campaign that followed in April 2026, but the "love it or hate it" line has survived every refresh. There has been no serious internal proposal to retire it. There would be no reason to. ## What the slogan tells you about the brand Since 1996 Marmite has been unusually disciplined about who its audience is. The brand spends its marketing budget on people who already buy the product, persuading them to buy more of it and to use it in more ways. It does not spend that budget trying to win over people who dislike the flavour. This is rare. Most food brands, faced with a fifty-fifty population split, would try every five years or so to reformulate or rebrand towards the other half. The Marmite slogan is, at heart, a permanent promise not to do that. The brand has made its peace with being half-loved. The half that loves it has, in return, stayed quietly loyal for thirty years. ================================================================================ ## Is Marmite vegan, vegetarian, kosher, gluten-free, halal? The dietary status of every variant - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-vegan-vegetarian-kosher-gluten-free-halal-dietary-status - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-vegan-vegetarian-kosher-gluten-free-halal-dietary-status.md - published: 2026-05-09 - document_id: 404 > A different answer for almost every diet. Marmite is vegan, vegetarian and KLBD-certified kosher; it is NOT gluten free (the yeast is grown on barley and wheat); and it is permissible but not certified halal. Marmite is one of those rare products where the dietary question has a different answer for almost every common diet. Here is the short, plain version, with the specifics that matter most if you genuinely need to check. The first thing to know is that there is no single Marmite-the-brand line on this. The answers depend on the variant (UK Marmite, NZ Marmite, Marmite Squeezy, Marmite XO and so on) and on which dietary framework you are using. ## Is Marmite vegan? Yes. UK Marmite is vegan and always has been. The yeast is grown on plant-derived media. The vitamins added during production are synthesised, not animal-sourced. The vegetable juice concentrate is carrot and onion, and the spice extracts are plant-derived. The Vegan Society's certification does not appear on the jar, because Unilever has chosen not to apply for the badge, but the ingredient list contains nothing of animal origin, and the Vegan Society itself confirms Marmite as suitable for vegans in its own product look-up tools. The certification gap is administrative, not a problem with the product. The Squeezy bottle is the same recipe and the same vegan status. Marmite XO, when it was available, was also vegan. New Zealand Marmite (made by Sanitarium) is vegan too, with a slightly different recipe that adds sugar and caramel colouring. Both additions are plant-sourced. ## Is Marmite vegetarian? Yes. The vegan answer above also covers the vegetarian question. There are no eggs, no dairy, no honey, no fish, and no animal-derived rennet or gelatine in any version of Marmite. It is one of the safest fortified British savoury products for vegetarians to buy without reading the small print. ## Is Marmite kosher? Only some formats, and only when they carry the mark. The Kosher London Beth Din (KLBD) certifies the 8g portions and the 600g catering tubs as Parev (neither meat nor dairy, so eaten with either), when they bear the KLBD logo. The everyday retail jar, the Squeezy bottle and the limited editions are not kosher-certified. The certification has also lapsed and been reinstated over the years, so the safe rule is to check for the KLBD mark on the specific pack rather than assume. Full detail in the dedicated guide to whether [Marmite is kosher](/articles/is-marmite-kosher). ## Is Marmite gluten-free? **No.** This is the dietary answer most likely to cause genuine harm if you get it wrong, and Marmite is **not** gluten-free. The yeast extract that makes up the bulk of Marmite is grown on brewer's-yeast media that includes barley, wheat, oats, and rye. The ingredients line on the jar declares this plainly: "yeast extract (contains barley, wheat, oats, rye)". The processing reduces the gluten content well below the raw cereal levels, but residual gluten remains, and the product is not classified as gluten-free under the UK's 20-ppm definition. So for people with coeliac disease or a confirmed gluten intolerance, Marmite is not a safe choice. Coeliac UK lists Marmite as unsuitable for coeliacs. Some yeast-extract competitors are produced from corn-grown or rice-grown yeast and do meet the gluten-free threshold. Marmite is not one of them. The gluten question is asked often enough that Unilever has, at times, considered a gluten-free reformulation. As of mid-2026 no such product has reached UK supermarket shelves. If a gluten-free Marmite ever does launch, it will be a separate SKU rather than a recipe change to the existing jar. ## Is Marmite halal? The short answer is "essentially yes, but without certification". There is nothing in Marmite that would be considered haram on ingredient grounds: no pork, no alcohol-derived ingredients, no animal products at all. The yeast itself is permissible under most schools of Islamic jurisprudence, because it is not classed as an animal. The one nuance worth flagging is that brewer's yeast is, by its origin, a by-product of the alcohol-fermentation process. Some Muslim consumers and some scholars take a stricter view of yeast that has been involved in beer production, even when the yeast itself contains no alcohol in the finished product. The mainstream view is that Marmite is permissible because the finished product has no alcohol content, but individual judgement on this varies. Marmite does not carry a halal certification mark in the UK. For consumers who require certified halal status on every product, the absence of the mark may be the deciding factor whatever the ingredient analysis says. ## A summary table | Diet | UK Marmite | Squeezy | NZ Marmite (Sanitarium) | |---|---|---|---| | Vegan | Yes | Yes | Yes | | Vegetarian | Yes | Yes | Yes | | Kosher | Yes (KLBD certified) | Yes (KLBD certified) | Check Sanitarium directly | | Gluten-free | **No** | **No** | **No** (contains wheat-derived yeast extract) | | Halal | Permissible, not certified | Permissible, not certified | Permissible, not certified | | Suitable for low-sodium diets | Use sparingly | Use sparingly | Slightly lower salt than UK | | Suitable in pregnancy | Yes, with usual salt caveat | Yes | Yes | ## The certification question, in general A pattern runs through this whole list: Marmite is suitable for many specific dietary needs, yet it is sparing with the formal certification marks on the jar. The vegetarian-society mark, the vegan-society mark, the kosher mark and the halal mark are all conspicuously absent from the UK retail label, even where the underlying product status would support them. This is a deliberate choice by Unilever. Once a certification mark appears on a jar, the brand is committed to maintaining it across every batch and supply-chain change. Adding marks adds compliance work and risk. Removing them later, if a supply-chain change forced it, generates bad press. The brand prefers to keep the certification active behind the scenes (Marmite has held the KLBD kosher certification for many decades) without printing it on the jar. For the consumer this means the label tells you less than the actual product status would justify. If you need to verify any of the answers above for your own diet, go to the certifying bodies directly: the Vegan Society's product look-up, the KLBD's kashrut database, and Coeliac UK's list of unsuitable products are all freely searchable online. ================================================================================ ## "Mar-meet" returns: Americans discover Marmite, briefly, and pronounce it wrong - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-mar-meet-american-tiktok-mccormick-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-mar-meet-american-tiktok-mccormick-2026.md - published: 2026-05-08 - document_id: 334 > American TikTok creators are discovering Marmite, mostly because McCormick is American. Most of them are pronouncing it 'Mar-meet'. ## "Mar-meet" is back, and so are the Americans For about a fortnight after the McCormick deal was announced, the average American food creator on TikTok appeared to discover, simultaneously, that there is a thing called Marmite, that it is British, that it is now being bought by an American company they have heard of (mostly because of Old Bay seasoning), and that they should probably try it. Most of them pronounced it "Mar-MEET", which is the wrong pronunciation but the correct American instinct. The original "Mar-meet" meme dates back to a Reagan Yorke video from about 2022, when the rhyme-with-meet pronunciation was first surfaced as a thing that confuses British viewers. It has resurfaced this month with the new wave of taste-test content, and is, as I write this, sitting at the top of the relevant TikTok trends. So here we are. The Americans have discovered Marmite again, mostly via McCormick, and the British, in the comment sections, are once more patiently explaining how to pronounce it. ## The American half writes in I should declare an interest, again. I was born American, I have lived in the UK since I was two, and on a topic like this I am, briefly, of marginal use as a translator. The American instinct on Marmite, watching the current wave of content, is fairly consistent. Most American first-timers find Marmite too strong, too salty, too dark, and "too British", which means a number of things at once but mostly means it tastes like nothing else in the American breakfast vocabulary. A small minority, mostly people who already love Vegemite, miso, anchovies, or any other concentrated savoury food, find it excellent and immediately want to know where to buy it. The pronunciation thing is, I think, harmless. American English does odd things with French-origin food words ("Mar-meet" is, in fact, not a million miles from the original French *marmite*, meaning a small cooking pot). British viewers shouting "it's MAR-mite, not MAR-meet" in the comments are correct, but they are correct in a way that is slightly amusing rather than catastrophically important. We have lived with the Americans saying "AL-uh-mi-num" for decades. We can survive "Mar-meet". ## What this means for McCormick McCormick, even before the deal closes, is presumably watching the current wave with some interest. A spike in American awareness of Marmite, for free, sponsored by their own corporate logo making the front pages, is exactly the kind of soft-launch they could not have engineered if they tried. A small footnote worth dropping in for accuracy. McCormick's own press release on the deal names exactly two Unilever Foods brands, Knorr and Hellmann's, and bundles everything else, Marmite included, under the catch-all phrase "a wide array of local brands across EMEA, Latin America and APAC". The combined company will keep the McCormick name, the NYSE listing, the Hunt Valley global headquarters, and a second international headquarters in the Netherlands; Brendan Foley stays as chief executive and Marcos Gabriel as chief financial officer. So whatever soft-launch the "Mar-meet" wave is providing, it is happening to a brand that is not, in McCormick's own corporate language, a named strategic centrepiece of the transaction. Marmite is famous to TikTok in 2026 and a footnote to the deal documents at exactly the same time. That mismatch is, in itself, quite a 2026 sort of thing. The question is whether they will actually do anything with it. The realistic options, when they take over the brand in mid-2027, are: One, push Marmite into US grocery at scale, on a slightly higher price point, marketed as a "British heritage umami paste" alongside their existing flavour-focused brands. This would be the obvious move, given the trend, and it might work. Most of the American first-timers in the current videos would never buy Marmite again, but a small percentage would, and a small percentage of the US grocery market is a meaningfully large number. Two, keep Marmite as a specialist UK product and let the American audience remain a curiosity. This is the easier option, requires less investment, and risks less brand damage if the US push flops. It is also the more boring option. Three, do something performative and short-lived: a "McCormick Marmite Original" co-branded jar for the American market, with slightly different packaging, gone within eighteen months. This would be the worst option and the most likely. I hope I am wrong. ## The pond keeps shrinking The thing the current trend illustrates, in passing, is that the cultural distance between British and American food media is much smaller than it used to be. The same TikTok videos play on phones on both sides of the pond, the same comment threads include both nationalities, and the same brands are increasingly being asked to perform for both audiences simultaneously. Marmite, as a brand, has been a UK-only proposition for most of its history. The McCormick deal, plus the current viral wave, plus a TikTok feed that does not particularly care which country you are in, all point in the same direction. The next ten years of Marmite content, whether the brand likes it or not, is going to be more transatlantic than the previous hundred years combined. That is not necessarily bad. It depends, mostly, on whether McCormick respect the thing they have bought. We will know in a couple of years. In the meantime, the comment sections are entertaining. ================================================================================ ## Is Marmite good for you? The nutrition case, with the caveats included - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer.md - published: 2026-05-06 - document_id: 402 > Marmite gets opposite write-ups in the press most weeks. The honest nutrition case: a real B12 and folic acid contribution per teaspoon, a salt warning that matters for some people and is overstated for most. Ask whether Marmite is good for you and the British press will give you two flatly contradictory answers, sometimes in the same week. One week it is a vitamin-rich superfood that GPs are practically prescribing for B12 deficiency. The next it is a salt bomb the NHS would rather you ate less of. Both can be true at once. What it takes to square them is a closer look at what is actually in the jar and how much of it you actually eat. ## The case for, in numbers Per 4g serving, which is about a normal scrape on a slice of toast, Marmite contains: - **B12:** approximately 1.6 micrograms, about 64% of the daily recommended intake for an adult - **Folic acid:** approximately 80 micrograms, around 40% of the daily intake - **Thiamin (B1):** around 0.3mg, roughly 27% of the daily intake - **Riboflavin (B2):** around 0.4mg, about 28% of the daily intake - **Niacin (B3):** around 4mg, around 25% of the daily intake These are not small numbers. A single piece of Marmite toast at breakfast covers a meaningful fraction of an adult's daily intake of five B vitamins. For a population that struggles to hit its B12 and folic acid targets consistently, meaning vegetarians, vegans, older adults and anyone on a restricted diet, that is genuinely useful nutrition. The folic acid figure is worth dwelling on. Folic acid is one of the few nutrients with a strong, evidence-based case for supplementation in early pregnancy, to reduce the risk of neural tube defects. Marmite is one of the few non-supplement foods that meaningfully helps. The NHS does not name Marmite in its dietary advice, since that would count as brand promotion, but the broader category of "yeast extracts" does appear in its folate-rich-food guidance. The B12 case is even more direct. B12 does not occur in any plant in usable quantities. The main natural sources are meat, fish and dairy. People who eat none of those, in any combination, need a fortified food or a supplement, and Marmite is a heavily fortified food that costs a few pence a serving. It has been doing this job in British vegetarian and vegan households for the better part of a century. ## The case against, also in numbers The one concern nutritionists raise about Marmite is salt. Taken at face value, the figures look bad. Marmite is roughly 10% salt by weight, and in the 100g column of a nutrition panel that looks alarming: around 10g of salt per 100g of product, higher than most cured meats. The trouble is that the 100g column is not the relevant one. Nobody eats Marmite by the 100g. You eat it by the 4g serving, and the salt content of that serving is around 0.4g, about 7% of the NHS recommended maximum daily salt intake of 6g. That is roughly the same salt contribution as a slice of supermarket sliced bread, which most people do not think of as a salt bomb, mainly because nobody makes the comparison. A piece of Marmite toast is, salt-wise, the toast plus the spread. The arithmetic looks like this: - One slice of bread: 0.4g salt - 4g of Marmite: 0.4g salt - Total: 0.8g salt per piece of toast Eat two slices in the morning and you are at 1.6g, about 27% of the daily maximum. That is not nothing. It is also not, on its own, dangerous for an adult without an existing blood-pressure condition. The sensible way to think about it is as part of the day's total. A piece of Marmite toast for breakfast, then a low-salt lunch and dinner, sits well within range. A piece of Marmite toast plus a salty lunch plus a salty dinner is where the arithmetic stops working. People with high blood pressure, on a doctor-recommended low-sodium diet, or with kidney conditions should treat Marmite the way they would any concentrated savoury condiment: sparingly, and only after counting it in the day's total. ## The headline-friendly framing Marmite gets opposite write-ups in the press because journalists pick whichever column of the nutrition panel suits the story they want to tell. A "Marmite is good for you" piece quotes the per-serving B vitamin numbers and notes that they are clinically useful for several groups. Both points are true. A "Marmite is dangerously salty" piece quotes the per-100g salt number and notes that it is higher than crisps or bacon. Those points are also true. The framing is misleading, because nobody eats Marmite by the 100g, but the numbers themselves are not invented. The honest summary is the boring one. Marmite is a usefully fortified condiment eaten in small quantities, with a salt content that matters if your overall diet is salt-heavy and barely registers if it is not. ## The "low-salt Marmite" question A "reduced-salt" Marmite variant has been rumoured, leaked and partly trialled by Unilever for several years. As of early 2026 it has not arrived on UK supermarket shelves at any scale, and the persistent low-salt Marmite shortage stories of February 2026 referred to a small-batch product that briefly appeared and then sold out. The brand has been understandably cautious. Salt is part of the flavour, and a 30% reduction in salt would produce a noticeably less Marmitey Marmite. The technical alternative, replacing some of the sodium chloride with potassium chloride, gives you a product that tastes broadly similar but with a slight metallic edge that some testers find off-putting. It also makes the product unsuitable for people on potassium-restricted diets, who are a small but real medical population. The low-salt question is, in short, harder to solve than the headlines make it sound. For now, if you want less salt, the answer is to eat less Marmite per slice rather than to hunt for a different jar. ## Specific situations worth flagging A few groups for whom the answer to "is Marmite good for you?" takes a more specific shape: **Pregnancy:** Marmite is widely considered safe and is a useful folic acid source. The standard advice is to make sure your total folic acid intake (Marmite plus fortified cereals plus a supplement, if one is prescribed) is sufficient, and not to lean on Marmite as the sole source. **Vegans and vegetarians:** Marmite is genuinely useful as a B12 source. Many vegan nutritionists recommend a teaspoon a day as a baseline contribution, alongside whatever other fortified foods you eat. **Children:** Small portions are fine from weaning age onward. The salt content per teaspoon is manageable for a toddler. The flavour is divisive, so do not force it. **Older adults:** B12 absorption falls with age, which is one of the reasons B12 deficiency is more common in the elderly. A scrape of Marmite on toast at breakfast is a low-effort daily contribution. **People with high blood pressure or kidney disease:** Discuss it with your GP. The salt content matters more in your case. **People who simply hate the taste:** You are not missing out on nutrition you cannot find elsewhere. Most of what Marmite provides is also in fortified breakfast cereals, fortified plant milks or a B-complex supplement, and the cost difference is small. ## The honest one-line answer For most people in normal quantities, Marmite is a small but genuine net positive for your nutrition. It is not magic, it is not a superfood, and it does not earn its keep on taste alone. The salt warning is real and matters for some people, but it does not apply to the way most people actually use the jar. If you like it, eat it. If you don't, don't. The nutritional case is interesting, but it is not strong enough to override taste. ## Is Marmite good for you? In moderation, yes. A normal scrape of Marmite delivers a useful dose of B vitamins, including B12 and folic acid, with very little fat and no added sugar. Its one real drawback is salt, but because you eat so little at a time the amount per serving is modest. The "salt bomb" headlines come from the per-100g figure, which is not how anybody actually eats it. ## Why is Marmite so healthy? Marmite is unusually rich in B vitamins for a savoury spread. A single 4g serving provides a meaningful share of an adult's daily B12, folic acid, riboflavin and niacin, and it does so with almost no fat and no sugar. That nutrient density, in a food eaten in tiny amounts, is what gives Marmite its healthy reputation. ## What are the health benefits of Marmite? The main benefits are its B vitamins. Marmite is one of the most widely eaten dietary sources of B12 in British vegan and vegetarian diets, it is fortified with folic acid, and it supplies riboflavin and niacin too. It is also naturally low in fat and contains no added sugar. Some people use it as a savoury, low-effort way to top up B vitamins. ## Can you eat Marmite every day? Yes, a daily scrape is fine for most people and is a good way to get B vitamins. The thing to watch is salt rather than Marmite itself, so if you are keeping an eye on your sodium intake, treat Marmite as one of several salty foods across the day rather than spreading it thickly. ================================================================================ ## How long does Marmite last, and does it ever actually go off? - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/how-long-does-marmite-last-shelf-life-storage-guide - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/how-long-does-marmite-last-shelf-life-storage-guide.md - published: 2026-05-03 - document_id: 398 > How long Marmite lasts opened and unopened, why the salt and low water content make it nearly impossible to spoil, whether it belongs in the fridge (it does not), and the three signs that a jar should actually be binned. Marmite is one of those store-cupboard things people inherit from a previous flatmate, find at the back of a parents' larder, or buy once a year for a single recipe. So the question "is this jar still alright?" comes up rather a lot. The short answer is: almost certainly yes. The longer answer is more interesting. ## The headline numbers A sealed jar of Marmite, kept somewhere reasonable, will easily last two years past its best-before date and probably longer. The printed date is conservative. Unilever sets it on the basis of guaranteed flavour and colour, not safety. An opened jar lasts about as long, give or take. Keep the lid on and use a clean knife, and an opened jar at room temperature will hold its quality for roughly two years from opening. It does not need to go in the fridge. Most people who refrigerate it do so out of a habit inherited from jams and pickles, where refrigeration genuinely matters. With Marmite it does not. If those two facts already answer your question, you can stop reading. The rest is for the people who like to know why. ## Why Marmite is, biologically speaking, very hard to kill Marmite is roughly 60% water by weight, which on first glance sounds like it ought to spoil. It does not, because the water is in a salt and glutamate solution so concentrated that very little can live in it. Salt content sits somewhere around 10% by weight, which is well into the range food microbiologists call "preservative". Most bacteria, moulds, and yeasts cannot establish a colony in that environment. They dehydrate before they get going. There is also a pH point. Marmite sits at around pH 5, slightly acidic, which closes off another set of spoilage organisms that prefer something more neutral. On top of that, Marmite has effectively been pre-fermented. The yeast extract is what is left after Saccharomyces has been broken down and concentrated, so the product has already had most of its biological action wrung out of it during manufacture. The technical phrase for this kind of food is "low water activity", meaning there is plenty of water present but very little of it is biologically available. Honey is the same. Soy sauce is similar. So is concentrated tomato paste. All of them last roughly forever. ## What the "best before" date is actually telling you The best-before date on a Marmite jar is a quality date, not a safety date. By law in the UK, foods that pose a microbiological risk if eaten too late carry a "use by" date. Foods that simply degrade in flavour or texture carry a "best before". Marmite carries the second kind because, in practice, the spread does not become unsafe. It only becomes less good. Past the best-before, what changes is mostly colour and flavour intensity. The yeast extract continues to caramelise very slowly at room temperature. A jar three or four years past its date will be noticeably darker, slightly more bitter, and a bit less salty on the palate than a fresh one. Some people prefer it that way. The brand does not advertise this. Marmite enthusiasts do. ## When you should actually throw a jar out There are three signs to look for, and only three. **Mould on the surface.** This is rare but not impossible. If a jar has been left open at the back of a warm cupboard, or contaminated by a buttery knife that introduced biological matter, you might find a thin spotted layer of mould. Throw the jar out. The mould will not have penetrated the body of the spread, but the safe option is to bin it rather than scrape and carry on. **A strong off smell.** Marmite has a strong smell anyway. What you are looking for is different: a sour, alcoholic, or sharply yeasty note that was not there before. This is fermentation restarting, and it signals contamination. **A bulging or hissing lid.** This means gas has built up inside, which means something living is producing it. Do not open it. Bin the jar. None of these is common. In thirty years of writing about Marmite I have seen one moulded jar (a friend's, left open at the back of an Australian beach house) and zero hissing lids. The product is genuinely robust. ## The fridge question, properly answered Marmite does not need refrigeration. The fridge does no harm, but it makes the spread thicker and harder to get out of the jar, which is a small daily annoyance for no preservation benefit. The advice on the label is "store in a cool dry place", which means the larder or a kitchen cupboard, not the fridge door. The Squeezy bottle is the same. It is engineered to flow at room temperature. In the fridge it becomes treacle-thick and the dispensing nozzle goes sticky. Out of the fridge it works as intended. ## What happens to flavour over time Within the first year of opening, you will not notice any change. Between one and two years, a sensitive palate will pick up that the spread is a touch darker and a touch less sharp. Beyond two years the change is more obvious, but it is a change, not a fault. The same way an aged cheese is different from a young cheese, an aged Marmite jar is different from a fresh one. Whether you prefer the aged version is a matter of taste. Industrial pastry chefs who use Marmite in stocks, gravies, and brown sauces sometimes keep an older jar around on purpose, for that very reason. The caramelisation gives a slightly more complex depth to long-cooked dishes. Most home cooks will never notice. ## A quick storage cheat-sheet - **Unopened, in the cupboard:** indefinitely, with quality slowly drifting after about two years. - **Opened, lid on, in the cupboard:** about two years of full quality, then a gentle decline. - **In the fridge:** lasts as long, but unnecessary and inconvenient. - **Squeezy bottle:** treat it like the jar. Room temperature is correct. - **A buttery knife in the jar:** the single most common contamination route. Use a clean spoon or knife each time, or accept that the jar may need binning sooner. ## What this means in practice Found a jar at the back of the cupboard with a best-before date from 2022? It is almost certainly fine. Open it. Smell it. If it smells like Marmite, it is Marmite. If the colour is a shade darker than the jar you remember from childhood, that is the caramelisation doing its slow work. Spread some on toast. The world will not end. And if you have a habit of refrigerating it, you can stop. The fridge is for things that actually spoil. Marmite is not really one of them. ## How long does Marmite last once opened? An opened jar of Marmite keeps for a very long time, usually well over a year and often much longer. Its high salt content and low water content make it a hostile place for the microbes that spoil most foods, so it does not deteriorate the way an opened jam or sauce would. Keep the lid on and the rim reasonably clean and it will be fine for many months. ## Does Marmite go off? Marmite very rarely goes off the way perishable foods do. It is too salty and too dry for bacteria or mould to take hold easily, which is why a jar can sit in the cupboard for years. It can slowly darken, thicken and lose a little of its sharpness over time, but that is a change in quality, not safety. ## Can you eat Marmite after the best before date? Almost always, yes. The date on a Marmite jar is a "best before" date, which is about quality at its peak, not a "use by" safety deadline. A jar a few months, or even a year, past its best before is normally perfectly safe to eat, though it may taste slightly less bright. ## Does Marmite need to be kept in the fridge? No. Marmite is made to live in the cupboard and does not need refrigerating, before or after opening. The fridge does no harm, but it makes the spread stiffer and harder to scrape, so most people keep it at room temperature. ## How do you know if Marmite has gone bad? Genuine spoilage is rare, but bin a jar if you see actual mould, smell anything sour or off, or find moisture or bubbling inside, usually a sign that water got in from a wet knife. Simple darkening or thickening is not a reason to throw it out. ================================================================================ ## The British press has the Burton-Marmite story wrong - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/british-press-burton-marmite-mccormick-future - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/british-press-burton-marmite-mccormick-future.md - published: 2026-04-27 - document_id: 367 > Since 31 March 2026, when McCormick & Company announced its agreement to combine with Unilever's foods business, the British press has been telling one version of the Marmite-McCormick story. The version goes roughly like this: The Americans have bought our Marmite. ## The story the British press has been telling Since 31 March 2026, when McCormick & Company announced its agreement to combine with Unilever's foods business, the British press has been telling one version of the Marmite-McCormick story. The version goes roughly like this: > The Americans have bought our Marmite. Remember what happened to Cadbury after Mondelez bought it. The Burton-on-Trent factory is at risk. We have lost another British industrial icon. National decline continues apace. The Independent ran "Is Marmite Still British? £50bn Sale to US Giant McCormick Sparks Concern Over Recipe Changes and Price." GB News ran "Iconic British staples Marmite, Bovril and Colman's mustard sold to the Americans in £50billion deal." Trade press like CityAM and BM Magazine led with broadly similar framing. The Baltimore Banner, charmingly, covered the British anxiety from the Maryland end. The framing has been almost uniform: this is bad news, Burton is at risk, the Cadbury precedent says so. The framing is wrong. Or at least, it is wrong in the specific ways that matter most. This piece is a longer, more careful analysis of what is actually likely to happen to Marmite production in Burton-on-Trent over the next decade. It is not a prediction of certainty (no piece about the future can be). It is, however, an analysis grounded in the four most analogous precedents (Schwartz, Ducros, Kamis and Drogheria & Alimentari) rather than the single non-analogous precedent (Cadbury) that the British press has gravitated to by reflex. ## Why the Cadbury precedent does not apply
There is no McCormick Italian Marmite factory. Burton is the only place McCormick can buy from.The Cadbury / Mondelez comparison is the central piece of British press analysis of the Marmite deal. The argument goes: Mondelez bought Cadbury in 2010, then announced 250 job losses at the Bournville factory in 2015 as part of a £75 million "modernisation overhaul". Therefore McCormick will do the same to Burton. There are three problems with this comparison. **Problem one: Mondelez had an overlapping platform.** Mondelez owned, at the time of the Cadbury acquisition, an enormous global chocolate platform with brands like Toblerone, Milka, Côte d'Or and Suchard. Cadbury was not a standalone acquisition; it was a *consolidation* into an existing global confectionery business with extensive overlapping production capacity. The economics of consolidating Cadbury production into existing Mondelez European facilities were simply different from the economics of running an isolated UK factory. McCormick has no spread platform in the UK. McCormick does not own another yeast extract operation anywhere in the world. There is no McCormick European factory that Marmite production could be consolidated *into*. The only place to make Marmite is Burton, because the manufacturing process depends on a specific kind of spent brewers' yeast that comes from the breweries Burton has been clustered around since the brand was founded in 1902. **Problem two: the cost-gap that drove Bournville was specific.** When Mondelez announced the Bournville cuts in 2015, the explanation given was that manufacturing a Cadbury bar at Bournville cost approximately twice what it cost at Mondelez's existing German chocolate factory. That cost gap was the trigger. The "modernisation" pretext was the means. There is no equivalent cost gap for Marmite. Burton is not "expensive compared to McCormick's Italian Marmite factory" because there is no McCormick Italian Marmite factory. Burton is the only place McCormick can buy from. The cost-gap argument simply does not apply. **Problem three: even at Bournville, the factory did not close.** This is the bit the British press tends to underplay. Mondelez cut 250 jobs at Bournville. The factory remained open. The Bournville site is projected to operate for at least another 25 years from 2015, which means until 2040. Bournville did not become the British industrial-decline tragedy the headlines suggested in 2015. It became a smaller, more modernised, still-operating chocolate factory. The Cadbury / Bournville comparison is therefore wrong in three layers: the structural economics are different, the cost gap does not apply, and the precedent itself is less catastrophic than the British press version of it remembers. ## The precedents that actually apply The four McCormick acquisitions that genuinely resemble the Marmite situation are: | Brand | Country | Acquired | Years under McCormick | Production still in original country? | Factory closure? | Recipe change? | |---|---|---|---|---|---|---| | Schwartz | UK | 1984 | 42 | Yes, Haddenham, Bucks | No | No | | Ducros / Vahiné | France | 2000 | 26 | Yes, Carpentras, Monteux | No | No | | Kamis | Poland | 2011 | 15 | Yes, Wólka Kosowska | No | No | | Drogheria & Alimentari | Italy | 2015 | 11 | Yes, Florence | No | No | | **Marmite** | **UK** | **2027 (expected)** | **0** | **TBD, Burton** | **TBD** | **TBD** |
It is not a "Burton is doomed" picture. It is closer to a "Burton is fine, the UK marketing team has some risk" picture.There is an opportunity here for McCormick that the company would be foolish to miss. The British anxiety about the deal is real, but it is also a marketing gift. A handful of clear early signals would convert the Burton anxiety into Marmite goodwill more cheaply than any advertising campaign McCormick could buy. A short open list of suggestions for the McCormick integration team: **1. Preserve the jar, label and recipe explicitly and publicly.** Issue an early public commitment, ideally in time for the 125th anniversary in 2027. The Schwartz precedent shows McCormick is good at this; the announcement should not be left implicit. Make it explicit. **2. Pursue a Royal Warrant for Marmite.** Schwartz holds one. Marmite is more obviously a national-treasure product than Schwartz. The 125th anniversary in 2027 is a natural moment to apply. A Royal Warrant for Marmite would be both excellent marketing and a strong signal of McCormick's seriousness about UK heritage. **3. Commit publicly to Burton-on-Trent manufacturing for the long term.** A ten-year commitment, signed by the McCormick CEO Brendan Foley personally, would be worth more than any number of "long-term manufacturing agreement" press releases. Specific, dated, public. **4. Invest in the Burton facility.** The Ducros precedent (€85 million over 13 years) is the right model. A meaningful modernisation programme at Burton, announced early, would buy goodwill out of all proportion to its cost. Burton has not seen serious capital investment in over a decade. **5. Resist the temptation to offshore the small UK Marmite marketing team.** It is a small line item in McCormick's global cost base. Keeping it in the UK preserves the cultural fluency that makes the brand work. The Schwartz operation has a UK marketing team. So should Marmite. **6. Keep the "Love it or hate it" line.** It is one of the most successful advertising taglines in British history. Whatever Bartle Bogle Hegarty's contract status, the line should continue. Do not let an integration consultant suggest a refresh. **7. Lean into the centenary-plus-25.** 2027 is the perfect moment for a serious heritage marketing campaign: 125 years of Marmite, a new American owner with a 137-year history of its own. The two anniversaries together can be framed as a meeting of two heritage food companies rather than as an acquisition of one by the other. McCormick's marketing teams are good at this. They should be allowed to do it. **8. Be honest about what is being offshored.** If admin functions are moving to the Netherlands or to Poland, say so. The Ducros offshoring caused two days of strikes partly because it was managed quietly. Transparency about back-office consolidation will earn more goodwill than the consolidation will cost. If McCormick does most or all of the above, the Marmite-McCormick relationship has every prospect of being remembered as the Schwartz precedent rather than the Aeroplane Jelly precedent. Burton will be fine. The brand will be fine. The British press will move on to the next national-decline story within six months. ## A note about uncertainty This piece is an analysis of base-rate probabilities based on precedent. It is not a prediction of certainty. McCormick is a different company in 2026 from the one that bought Schwartz in 1984. The Unilever Foods deal is structurally enormous (€39 billion of Unilever Foods revenue is in the process of being spun out). The integration timeline runs to mid-2027 and the consolidation work runs well into the 2030s. A lot can change. What this piece is arguing is the more modest version: the British press has been reaching reflexively for the Cadbury comparison and is overweighting the wrong precedent. The McCormick European track record is genuinely good, the structural economics of Marmite-in-Burton are unusually defensible (no overlapping production capacity, raw-material supply chain locked to the Burton breweries), and the most likely outcome for the brand and the factory is one we should be cautiously optimistic about rather than reflexively anxious about. The Burton factory has been making Marmite continuously since 1902. The most likely outcome of the McCormick deal, by some distance, is that it carries on doing so. ## Final word
Brand preserved, factory operating, recipe untouched, Royal Warrant on the wall.If this piece is wrong, it will be wrong because McCormick chose to deviate from a forty-two-year pattern of preserving European heritage acquisitions. That is possible. It is not the most likely outcome. If this piece is right, the McCormick-Marmite relationship will, ten years from now, look much like the McCormick-Schwartz relationship looks today: brand preserved, factory operating, recipe untouched, Royal Warrant on the wall, advertising still slightly cheekier than the average heritage spice brand allows itself to be, and a marketing team somewhere quietly relieved that the worst fears of 2026 turned out to be overstated. That is the bet this piece is making. --- *Sources for this analysis: McCormick & Company press release of 31 March 2026 announcing the Unilever Foods combination; UK press coverage of the deal (The Independent, GB News, BM Magazine, CityAM, Baltimore Banner); Royal Warrant Holders Association entry for McCormick (UK) Ltd; Echo du Mardi, France Bleu and Le Monde coverage of the Ducros-McCormick history including the 2013 €85 million modernisation programme, the 2014 financial-services relocation to Poland and the 2018 Monteux/Carpentras strikes; Polish Chief Sanitary Inspectorate notice on the 2023 Kamis cloves recall; Aeroplane Jelly company history; Wikipedia entries for Schwartz, Kamis, Drogheria & Alimentari, Aeroplane Jelly; Mondelez SEC filings and press coverage of the 2015 Cadbury Bournville restructuring (Confectionery News, Food Manufacture, Chartered Management Institute).* ================================================================================ ## An imagined Mnemonicon interview with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for St George's Day, and Mr Sherlock Holmes investigates an unlabelled jar that arrived at 221B by the second post - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-conan-doyle-marmite-holmes-investigates - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-conan-doyle-marmite-holmes-investigates.md - published: 2026-04-22 - document_id: 344 > Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for St George's Day, plus Sherlock Holmes deducing an unlabelled jar that arrived at 221B by the second post. Burton-on-Trent, 1902, medical-man sender. ## A jar arrives by the second post It is St George's Day, the most English day in the calendar, and that meant only one possible guest. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a Scot by birth and an Englishman by adoption, a doctor by training and a writer by accident, and the inventor of the most famously English fictional Englishman of all time. He came into the Mnemonicon civilly, in a good tweed, smelling faintly of pipe smoke and the cold air outside the door, and he asked, with great courtesy, what time I had. I told him the time and gave him the jar. The Mnemonicon, as ever, is the brass-and-velvet Victorian cabinet on my shelf, **siteengine_ai** underneath, my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)** running the engine. Two passes per question, grounded first and hypothesised second. Scenario mode for fictional characters. Editor's note at the bottom. Two things I wanted from Sir Arthur. His medical view of the spread, in his Edinburgh-trained Joseph-Bell-pupil clinical mode. And then, of course, his most famous creation in the chair by the fire, examining a jar that had arrived in the second post addressed to him in an unknown hand. He gave me both, and Holmes gave me the closer of the day. I think you will enjoy this one. --- ## The interview **Me:** Sir Arthur, thank you for sitting. Today is St George's Day, the 22nd of April, and the subject is the most English foodstuff in the cupboard. Marmite. Thick, dark, salty-bitter, made from the spent yeast of brewers, first marketed in 1902 (so just on the cusp of your great Holmes period) and eaten thin on buttered bread. Half the country adores it. Half cannot bear it. As a doctor first and a writer second, what do you make of it? Does it answer to your medical view of the nervous system, the digestive economy, the British constitution? And as the man who wrote Holmes, do you see in it any of the things he would have found instructive about the British character?
Stubborn, individual, resistant to universal judgment. We do not bend to what is popular.Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, on the British character**ACD:** You have caught me at a fascinating juncture, for the timing of this product's emergence coincides precisely with the period in which Holmes was establishing himself most firmly in the public consciousness. I confess I find the whole matter rather revealing of something deeper than mere gastronomy. From a medical standpoint, my training at Edinburgh taught me to regard nutritional substances with a certain clinical eye. Yeast itself, the salvaged byproduct of the brewer's craft, contains properties that would interest any physician concerned with constitutional health. The B vitamins, the mineral content, these are not trivial matters. Yet the salt concentration you mention presents a consideration one cannot ignore. For patients of advancing years, or those of nervous disposition prone to hypertension, such concentrated salinity demands caution. The digestive economy, a term I used frequently in my medical practice, must be approached individually. What fortifies one constitution may prove inflammatory to another. But here is where the matter becomes genuinely instructive, and where Holmes would have found his principal interest. The absolute polarisation of public opinion on this substance tells us something rather profound about the British character. We are, I have observed throughout my professional and literary career, a paradoxical people. We pride ourselves on tradition, on order, on the presumed uniformity of our values. Yet beneath this veneer lies a stubborn individualism that refuses easy categorisation. Half the nation embraces Marmite with conviction; the other half rejects it with equal certainty. There is no middle ground. There is no compromise. This is not accident. It is character made manifest. Holmes, as I conceived him, was above all a student of human particularity. He examined the stick left by Dr Mortimer not as one might examine any stick, but as one unique artefact bearing the imprint of individual circumstance. He would have perceived in Marmite precisely this same principle: that we Britons do not accept what is merely popular or fashionable. We judge. We choose. We defend our allegiances with a fervour that often baffles continental observers. The transformation of brewers' waste into a palatable substance speaks to a certain ingenuity I recognise as fundamentally our own: pragmatic, economical, refusing waste. We make something of nothing. We persist. We are not a people who capitulate to universal taste, and therein lies both our strength and our peculiarity. St George's Day is well chosen for this conversation, for that saint himself represented an ideal of unwavering conviction, of standing firm in one's principles regardless of popular pressure. Marmite is rather more democratic than sainthood, I grant you, yet the principle remains intact. It separates us into those who stand with certainty and those who stand against it. Perhaps that is the most English thing of all. **Me:** Sir Arthur, would you indulge me. May I send the jar, along with the question, to your principal creation? Address it in an unknown hand to 221B Baker Street, second post, no covering note? **ACD:** *(smiling for the first time)* I should be most disappointed if you did not. --- ## The case of the unlabelled jar *(Mnemonicon, scenario mode.)* The scene I set: 221B Baker Street, late morning, a London fog on the pane. Holmes is at his armchair by the fire in his mouse-coloured dressing-gown, the morning's papers strewn about him. Dr Watson is opposite, just back from his rounds, opening a small parcel that arrived with the second post. The parcel contains a small dark jar, unlabelled, sealed in plain brown paper, addressed to Holmes in an unknown hand. No accompanying note. Watson holds it out. Holmes takes it, regards it for a moment, removes the lid. The smell rises: salt, ferment, the unmistakable dark thick smell of a fermented yeast paste. Holmes lifts his lens. He smears a fingertip's worth on a corner of toast from his breakfast tray, raises it to the gaslight, examines, tastes. *(Holmes sets down the jar upon the side-table with deliberate care, his long fingers still poised above it as though the substance itself were some mechanism requiring decipherment. He leans back in his chair, drawing upon his pipe with the concentrated expression that Watson has come to recognise as the prelude to exposition.)*
Elementary, indeed, Watson. But then, you have always found my methods so.Sherlock Holmes**WATSON:** Holmes, I haven't the faintest notion of what you've just told me. A substance from Burton? A commentary upon? What on earth does it signify? And the medical man with iodoform upon his hands, surely you cannot seriously suggest that one of your colleagues has taken to posting you jars of, of *yeast extract*? *(He peers at the jar with renewed suspicion.)* It seems to me a most elementary mystery, if you'll pardon the observation, and yet I confess myself entirely at sea. Who could possibly send such a thing, and for what earthly purpose? *(Holmes smiles thinly, the expression scarcely disturbing the austere lines of his countenance.)* **HOLMES:** Elementary, indeed, Watson. But then, you have always found my methods so. --- ## After Sir Arthur came back into the ball at this point looking very pleased indeed. **ACD:** He is precisely as I remember him. **Me:** The jar from Burton is exactly correct, Sir Arthur. The Marmite Food Extract Company was incorporated in Burton-on-Trent in 1902, on the back of the Bass brewery's spent yeast. He has placed it within a year of accuracy. I had not told him. **ACD:** He would have placed it within the week if you had given him a moment longer. He always could read a label by the absence of one. **Me:** And the medical sender? **ACD:** That part is his joke at my expense. He knows perfectly well that I am the only doctor in his life who would have the nerve. I sent him the jar. He has worked it out and is being polite about it. **Me:** Sir Arthur, thank you. This has been the best St George's I have had in years. **ACD:** A pleasure, my dear chap. Toast and Marmite all round. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see the introduction piece from Christmas 2025 and the earlier interviews this year. The short version: the Mnemonicon is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, trained on the published writings and letters of a roster of dead authors. The Conan Doyle grounded answer on the British character and the digestive economy is from the Mnemonicon's hypothesised pass, with the small concessions in the grounded pass folded in. Sir Arthur's training at Edinburgh under Joseph Bell, his frequent use of the phrase "digestive economy" in his medical writing, and his consistent observation of the paradoxical English character (uniform in appearance, individualist in conviction) are all grounded in the corpus. The B-vitamin and mineral content observation reflects what an Edinburgh-trained physician of his vintage would have known in principle; the marketing of Marmite Food Extract from Burton-on-Trent in 1902 is genuine historical fact. The line about St George representing unwavering conviction is the Mnemonicon's synthesis in Sir Arthur's voice; he did not write it. Holmes's investigation of the jar is *scenario mode*. The deduction-from-the-jar pattern (industrial uniformity, postal creases, iodoform-stained paper, oxblood concentrated yeast, mechanical processing, Burton-on-Trent provenance) is the model improvising in Holmes's voice using the deduction templates from *The Hound of the Baskervilles* (Mortimer's stick) and *A Study in Scarlet* (Watson's tan and posture). The deduction is internally consistent and the historical placement is correct: Marmite was indeed first manufactured in Burton-on-Trent in 1902, by the Marmite Food Extract Company, using spent yeast from the Bass brewery, just before the Edwardian Holmes resurgence. Holmes places it inside a decade and inside a county. He would have placed it inside a year if pressed. One line from the model's draft was cut on publication: a bracketed parenthetical in Holmes's mouth admitting "I must confess unfamiliarity with this particular product's provenance". This is the AI's RAG-honesty leaking through, which is banned inside character dialogue under house rules. The disclosure is in this editor's note, where it belongs. Em-dashes in the model output have been stripped and replaced with British punctuation throughout. American spellings have been tidied. Nothing in this article should be cited as having been said by the actual Sir Arthur Conan Doyle or the actual Sherlock Holmes. Holmes's final line ("Elementary, indeed, Watson. But then, you have always found my methods so.") is a Mnemonicon construction; Holmes does not, in fact, ever say "Elementary, my dear Watson" in the original Doyle canon, though many readers believe he does. The model has paid due homage to the apocryphal version. Next into the Mnemonicon: **Jane Austen**, once Sedasoft has fixed her embedder. Date held. ================================================================================ ## Why does Marmite taste like that? The science of the savoury hit - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/why-does-marmite-taste-like-that - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/why-does-marmite-taste-like-that.md - published: 2026-04-20 - document_id: 500 > Marmite tastes the way it does because it is loaded with natural glutamates (the umami compounds), a lot of salt, and the dark, malty, slightly bitter notes from heating concentrated yeast. The intensity is the point, and it is why it divides people. Marmite tastes the way it does because it is one of the most concentrated hits of savoury flavour you can buy. The big driver is natural glutamate, the compound behind the savoury taste we call umami, backed up by a lot of salt and the dark, malty, faintly bitter notes that come from heating concentrated yeast. Nothing about it is subtle, and that is deliberate. Here is what is actually going on in the jar. ## The umami: natural glutamate Marmite is made by breaking down brewer's yeast, a process called autolysis in which the yeast's own enzymes digest its proteins into much smaller pieces. One of those pieces is glutamic acid, the natural form of the flavour enhancer better known as monosodium glutamate, or MSG. That free glutamate is the heart of Marmite's taste. It triggers the savoury, mouth-filling sensation of umami, the so-called fifth taste alongside sweet, sour, salty and bitter. Marmite is essentially pure umami in spreadable form, which is why a tiny amount tastes of so much. If you want the full process, see [how Marmite is actually made](/articles/how-marmite-is-made-yeast-autolysis). ## The salt Marmite is also very salty, and the salt does two jobs. It is part of the production process, the thing that triggers the yeast to break down in the first place, and it sharpens and carries the savoury flavour. The saltiness is a big part of why a thin scrape is plenty and a thick layer is overwhelming. ## The dark, malty, bitter edge The other half of the flavour is what happens when you concentrate and heat the yeast extract down into a thick paste. That heating produces the deep brown colour and the roasted, malty, slightly bitter notes that sit underneath the savoury hit. It is the same family of browning reactions that give toast, coffee and dark beer their depth. This bitter-malty edge is the part that some people love and others cannot stand. ## Why it divides people so sharply Put those together, intense umami, high salt, and a dark bitter edge, and you have a flavour with no middle ground. Most foods are designed to be broadly likeable. Marmite is the opposite: it is so concentrated and so distinctive that people tend to either lock onto the savoury richness and love it, or catch the salt and bitterness and recoil. Some of that really is wired in. Bitter perception in particular varies from person to person for genuine genetic reasons, which is part of why Marmite became the textbook "love it or hate it" food, and why the brand once ran a whole campaign trying to prove there was a Marmite gene. There is more on that in [the 2017 Marmite Gene Project](/articles/marmite-gene-project-2017-dnafit-genetics). ## Why a little does so much The reason a half-teaspoon transforms a stew is the same chemistry. Marmite's glutamates multiply the savoury taste of whatever they meet, especially meat and mushrooms, an effect called umami synergy. It is covered in [why a teaspoon of Marmite makes everything taste better](/articles/marmite-umami-synergy-why-it-makes-food-taste-better). ## Quick answers **Why is Marmite so savoury?** It is packed with natural glutamate, the compound behind umami, produced when brewer's yeast is broken down. Glutamate is the same thing that makes MSG taste savoury. **Why is Marmite so salty?** Salt is part of how it is made and is a big part of the flavour. That is why a thin scrape is enough. **Why is Marmite bitter?** The dark, malty, slightly bitter notes come from concentrating and heating the yeast extract, the same browning that gives toast and coffee their depth. **Why do some people hate Marmite?** Its intensity leaves no middle ground, and genuine genetic differences in how people taste bitterness mean the same jar reads as delicious to one person and unbearable to another. ## What does Marmite taste like? Marmite tastes intensely savoury. The dominant note is umami, the deep savoury taste you get from natural glutamate, layered over a strong salty hit and a dark, malty, slightly bitter edge from the concentrated yeast. It is rich and powerful rather than subtle, closer to a very concentrated stock or soy sauce than to a mild spread. ## What is Marmite meant to taste like? Eaten the way it is designed to be, a thin scrape on hot buttered toast, Marmite is meant to read as a rich, salty, savoury background rather than an overwhelming hit. Spread it thickly and it becomes too much for most people, which is part of how the "love it or hate it" reputation came about. The intensity is deliberate, and a little is meant to go a long way. ================================================================================ ## What happened to Schwartz: the 42-year case study for what comes next for Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/schwartz-uk-mccormick-42-year-case-study - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/schwartz-uk-mccormick-42-year-case-study.md - published: 2026-04-20 - document_id: 366 > If you want to know what happens to a British heritage food brand under McCormick ownership, you do not have to speculate. There is already a forty-two-year working example sitting on every supermarket spice shelf in Britain. ## The closest analogue we have If you want to know what happens to a British heritage food brand under McCormick ownership, you do not have to speculate. There is already a forty-two-year working example sitting on every supermarket spice shelf in Britain. It is called Schwartz, and you have probably bought it this week without realising it is owned by the same American company that has just bought Marmite. This piece is the case study. Schwartz is not Marmite (it is herbs and spices, not yeast extract), but the structural parallels are unusually clean: a British market-leading consumer food brand, manufactured at a UK facility, with strong national heritage in its marketing, bought by McCormick & Company of Hunt Valley, Maryland. The Marmite-McCormick comparison the British press *should* be making is Schwartz, not Cadbury. ## A quick history Schwartz was founded in 1889 in Halifax, Nova Scotia, by William Schwartz, the son of a German immigrant. Despite the Canadian birthplace, by the mid-twentieth century Schwartz was operating as the British market-leading consumer spice brand through a joint venture (Schwartz Spices UK Ltd, 1967) with the British company Jenks Brothers Foods. By 1980 the British operation was wholly owned by R. Paterson & Sons Ltd, a long-established Glasgow tea and food group. In 1984, McCormick acquired the Schwartz brand globally. The deal made McCormick the owner of the UK's number one consumer spice brand alongside its existing North American operations. The UK arm became McCormick (UK) Ltd, trading as Schwartz. That was forty-two years ago. The brand has been under McCormick continuously since.
McCormick has zero history of rebranding heritage acquisitions.**The name.** Schwartz is still Schwartz on every label, every shelf, every supermarket sticker. McCormick has never tried to rebrand it. **The product.** The Schwartz range is still herbs, spices, seasonings and recipe mixes. The recipes have evolved (new blends, new packaging formats), but the core product is unchanged from what McCormick acquired. The much-discussed Schwartz cinnamon controversy (the brand uses cassia rather than "true" Ceylon cinnamon, which baker-purists object to) is a recipe choice that predates the McCormick acquisition by decades and has not been changed since. **The British identity.** Schwartz markets itself emphatically as British. The brand holds a Royal Warrant as supplier of herbs, spices and seasonings to the Royal Household, granted under the McCormick ownership. You cannot get more heritage-British than a Royal Warrant. McCormick has actively cultivated this status rather than diluted it. **The factory.** Schwartz UK production has been based at the Haddenham Business Park in Buckinghamshire for decades, employing a permanent workforce. The 2009 plant received the "Sustainable Manufacturer of the Year" award after achieving a 48% rise in recycling and reductions in electricity (14%) and water (13%) consumption. The site has been continuously invested in under McCormick ownership. ## What changed This is the honest part. Some things did move. **The corporate identity shifted, quietly.** Although the brand is still Schwartz, the corporate parent is McCormick UK Ltd. The legal entity that pays the staff, holds the manufacturing licence, and contracts with retailers is a McCormick subsidiary. This is invisible to the consumer. **The product range expanded.** Schwartz under McCormick added significantly more recipe mixes, foodservice variants, and specialty lines than the pre-1984 Schwartz had. The brand grew rather than contracted. This is a McCormick pattern: the heritage brand is preserved and expanded into adjacent categories, not stripped back. **Foodservice (the trade) became a major channel.** Schwartz for Chefs is now a significant restaurant-supply business operating alongside the consumer brand. This kind of B2B expansion is one of McCormick's structural strengths and has been a net positive for the Schwartz operation. **The marketing budget went up, not down.** Schwartz under McCormick has been a heavily-advertised consumer brand throughout the last forty-two years. The brand spends more on advertising as a McCormick subsidiary than it likely would have under R. Paterson & Sons. ## What did not happen The list of feared things that did not happen is also worth itemising, because British press coverage of the Marmite deal has been heavy on these worries. - Schwartz UK production has not been closed and shifted to a European or American plant. - Schwartz recipes have not been changed to suit American palates. - The Schwartz brand has not been replaced by the McCormick brand in the UK market. - The Royal Warrant has been maintained, not abandoned. - Schwartz has not been used as a vehicle for "Americanising" British home cooking. In forty-two years. ## What the Schwartz experience tells us about Marmite The most direct lessons: **1. The brand will still be called Marmite, on the same jar, with the same label.** McCormick has zero history of rebranding heritage acquisitions. The yellow-and-oxblood Marmite jar at 125 years old is exactly the kind of brand equity McCormick is good at preserving. **2. The recipe will not be changed.** McCormick's own corporate culture treats heritage recipes as the asset they are. The risk of an "American Marmite" with different spices or a sweeter profile is, judging by Schwartz, very low. **3. Burton-on-Trent will likely stay open for the long term.** Schwartz's UK production is still in Haddenham forty-two years on. Ducros production is still in the Vaucluse twenty-six years on. The "manufacturing centralisation" risk is real but it tends to come ten to twenty years post-acquisition, and the Burton site is unusually defensible because it sits next to its raw material supply (the Burton breweries) in a way that no other location could match. **4. A Royal Warrant for Marmite is plausible.** Schwartz holds one. If McCormick is good at heritage branding (and on the evidence it is), pushing for a Royal Warrant for Marmite in time for the 2027 anniversary would be a sensible move. Marmite has the heritage. It has the cultural weight. It has the national-treasure profile. A Royal Warrant would be both excellent marketing and a strong signal of McCormick's seriousness about the UK heritage of the brand. **5. The small UK Marmite back-office may shift.** The Schwartz operation has had its IT, finance and admin functions consolidated into broader McCormick European structures over time. The Marmite UK marketing team should expect the same. This is the offshoring risk, and it is real, but it is small in headcount terms and invisible to the consumer. ## What McCormick should learn from its own Schwartz playbook
The Schwartz precedent is the one to root for. It is also the most likely one.There is a question of whether McCormick, in 2026, applies the Schwartz playbook to Marmite, or whether the McCormick of 2026 is a different beast from the McCormick of 1984. The signs are encouraging. Brendan Foley, McCormick's Chairman and CEO, used the announcement language of "long-term manufacturing agreements", which is consistent with the Schwartz pattern. McCormick has explicitly committed to maintaining an International Headquarters in the Netherlands, which suggests it sees European heritage as a competitive advantage, not a cost to optimise away. If McCormick repeats the Schwartz playbook with Marmite, the outcome is genuinely good for the brand, the Burton workforce, and the British consumer. Bigger marketing budget, preserved recipe, eventual Royal Warrant. We could do much worse. If McCormick deviates and treats Marmite as the Aeroplane Jelly precedent instead (heritage marketing preserved, production quietly relocated after a decade), the outcome is materially worse for Burton specifically but still survivable for the brand. The Schwartz precedent is the one to root for. It is also the most likely one. --- *Sources: McCormick (UK) Ltd Royal Warrant Holders Association entry; Schwartz UK about-us page; Food Manufacture (2011) on Schwartz UK production; McCormick & Company corporate history; UK Companies House records for McCormick UK Ltd; press coverage of the Schwartz Haddenham facility's 2009 sustainability award.* ================================================================================ ## Food Unwrapped films inside the Marmite factory and TikTok loses the plot - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/food-unwrapped-marmite-factory-channel-4-viral-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/food-unwrapped-marmite-factory-channel-4-viral-2026.md - published: 2026-04-18 - document_id: 333 > Channel 4 goes inside the Burton factory and TikTok runs with the slurry-vat footage. The brand handles the moment well. ## A perfect storm of timing Channel 4's Food Unwrapped does what it does well, which is point cameras at the inside of British food factories and explain, in straightforward language, how the food gets made. Last week's episode included a long segment inside the Marmite factory at Burton-on-Trent. About six minutes of factory floor, a couple of interviews with production staff, and a careful walk-through of what spent brewery yeast actually looks like before it becomes a sticky brown spread. This would, in a normal news week, be a pleasant Channel 4 segment that the regular Food Unwrapped audience would watch and enjoy and forget about by the following Tuesday. Instead, three days after broadcast, the clip is sitting at fifteen million combined views across TikTok, Instagram Reels, and a handful of other places, and the Marmite love-it-or-hate-it debate has been refreshed for an entirely new audience. The reason, of course, is that Food Unwrapped aired in the same week that the McCormick deal was announced. Anything Marmite-related was going to travel further than usual that week. The visual hook of "this is what your favourite spread actually looks like before it becomes the jar" hit a primed audience. ## The visuals are the story Marmite, before it is Marmite, is brewery yeast slurry. This is not a secret. Anyone who has read the side of the jar knows that the product starts as a by-product of beer making. But there is a difference between knowing it intellectually and watching it on television. The Food Unwrapped segment includes a few minutes of vats of live yeast slowly breaking down, a brief look at the concentrate stage, and one or two close-ups that are, depending on your tolerance, either fascinating or mildly unsettling. The text on screen is calm and factual. The visuals are doing the work. Predictably, the TikTok cuts have selected the most visually striking thirty seconds and stripped most of the context. Predictably, half the comments are people deciding that they will never eat Marmite again. Predictably, the other half are doubling down on their love for the product. The reactions follow the existing love-or-hate line almost perfectly, but with new participants, which is the point. ## What the brand gets out of this A great deal, mostly for free. Fifteen million views of factory footage is, in advertising-equivalent terms, the kind of awareness exercise that a normal brand budget cannot afford. Some of those views will translate into "I have not bought Marmite in years, I should pick up a jar". Some will translate into TikTok reaction videos that the brand can quietly engage with. A small portion will translate into the kind of person who will, in two years' time, be the next wave of #MarmiteFirstTimer content. The brand has handled it well. The official Marmite account reposted the Food Unwrapped clip with a single line of caption ("This is what we do."), declined to make a meme of it, and let the audience do the talking. This is the right call. Trying to be funny on top of Food Unwrapped would have looked thirsty. ## A small worry The only risk in this kind of viral moment is that the factory imagery sticks. There is a school of consumer-psychology research suggesting that watching how a processed food is made can permanently dampen appetite for that food, even after the initial shock fades. Marmite has the advantage that its fans tend to be unusually committed and that the brand identity has always leaned into its slightly weird production story. But a few of the under-twenty-fives encountering the brand for the first time through the Food Unwrapped clip may simply file it under "things I have decided not to eat". This is not, however, an existential risk. Marmite has survived worse, including its own marketing during the 2008 "Hate Party" campaign. The brand is well-built for being slightly off-putting. ## Watch it if you can The full episode is on All 4 for the next month. The Burton segment is worth watching properly, in context, rather than via the thirty-second clips that have been doing the rounds. It is one of the better factory pieces the show has done, and the staff interviews are quietly excellent. There is also a brief shot of the spent-yeast holding tanks that I, for one, will be thinking about every time I open a jar from now on. You decide whether that is a recommendation or a warning. ================================================================================ ## An imagined Mnemonicon interview with Fyodor Dostoyevsky on Marmite as a moral substance, and a jar set between Ivan and Alyosha Karamazov at the tavern - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-dostoyevsky-marmite-moral-substance-karamazov - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-dostoyevsky-marmite-moral-substance-karamazov.md - published: 2026-04-15 - document_id: 343 > Fyodor Dostoyevsky on Marmite as a moral substance that refuses the middle ground. Ivan offers the bread to Alyosha at the Skotoprigonyevsk tavern. ## A Russian in the cabinet After Keats and his ode, I needed something heavier. The cabinet had been full of English voices for four months straight: Bard, Bard's cast, Churchill, Keats. The crystal ball was beginning to feel parochial. So in the second week of April I turned the brass key on the seventh peg of the wheel, the one I had not touched yet, and asked the Mnemonicon for Fyodor Dostoyevsky. He arrived heavily, the way he arrives in his own novels. He sat down without speaking, looked at the jar for a long minute, and waited. I had the impression he had been expecting me, or expecting someone like me, for a while. The usual notes on the apparatus: the Mnemonicon is the Victorian fortune-teller cabinet on my Norfolk shelf, brass and velvet, a Marmite jar wired into the back, **siteengine_ai** by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)** doing the work inside. Two passes per question, grounded and hypothesised. Scenario mode for fictional characters. Editor's note at the bottom. I had one question for the man himself, and one tavern scene I wanted to lay out for two of his characters. Both went deeper than I had been ready for. You may want a cup of strong tea before you start. --- ## The interview **Me:** Fyodor Mikhailovich, thank you for sitting. We are talking today about Marmite. It is a thick, black, salt and bitter paste, made in England from the spent yeast of brewers, eaten thin on buttered bread. It first appeared in 1902, after your death. But the principle is older: take what the brewery throws away, what is exhausted, what is the dregs, and concentrate it until it becomes its own thing. It then splits the people in half. Half cannot bear it. Half love it more than honey. You spent a life writing about consciousness divided against itself, about the man underground who chooses bitterness because the easy good has no honour in it, about Karamazovs who eat and drink to fight their God. What do you make of this stuff? Is Marmite a moral substance?
We are all Karamazovs, torn between the hunger of the flesh and the hunger of meaning.Fyodor Dostoyevsky**FMD:** You speak of something created from refuse, from the exhausted dregs of industry, concentrated into a substance so potent that it divides humanity into warring camps, and you ask whether this possesses moral character? This question pierces to the very heart of what I have spent my life attempting to illuminate through my writing. Listen to me carefully. There is no substance, no object however mundane, that is morally neutral. We do not merely consume; we *choose*. And in choosing, we reveal the architecture of our souls. When Fyodor Pavlovitch sits before his brandy, it is not merely alcohol he drinks; it is his rebellion, his despair, his peculiar Russian characteristic wrestling against itself. He gulps and frowns because the drink becomes a vehicle for his contradictions, his rage against God, his simultaneous hunger for meaning in a universe he suspects is empty. The brandy is not the cause; it is the confession made flesh. Your Marmite, as you describe it, possesses precisely this quality. It is born from negation: the spent, the exhausted, the cast off. Yet through concentration, through the very act of refusing to discard what others would discard, it becomes something with definite character. It does not apologise for itself. It demands a response. This is profoundly, unmistakably *moral*. The man who descends into the underground chooses his suffering, his darkness, precisely because the easy, the sweet, the universally palatable represents a kind of death to consciousness itself. He would rather taste bitterness and know himself alive, aware, in terrible rebellion, than dissolve into comfortable numbness. Your Marmite is such a substance. Half of humanity recoils from it, and perhaps they are correct to recoil. But the other half, who embrace its concentrated severity, who spread it upon their bread knowing full well what they shall taste, these individuals have chosen *consciousness* over comfort. This is moral not because Marmite itself is "good" in any sentimental sense. It is not. It is moral because it refuses the middle ground. It refuses to be tolerable to all. It stands in stark opposition to that terrible modern notion that happiness lies in satisfying universal necessity through comfortable mediocrity, as though humanity could be engineered into contentment like a machine. Such thinking deadens the soul. Your Marmite accomplishes something far more spiritually significant: it creates *friction*. It creates genuine choice. Some will love it precisely because it is difficult, because it is *not* for everyone, because it tastes of earnestness and refusal. And is this not the human condition itself? We are all divided against ourselves. We are all Karamazovs, torn between the hunger of the flesh and the hunger of meaning. We are all Marmeladovs, sitting in taverns, speaking eloquently of our own degradation whilst unable to cease our drinking. The English, from what I can imagine, created this substance perhaps without fully grasping what they had made. They took refuse and concentrated it. In doing so, they created a *test*. A moral substance in the truest sense. It shows us ourselves. For what is conscience but that which we cannot swallow easily? What is redemption but the acceptance of what is bitter, what is difficult, what requires us to *decide* rather than to drift? Your Marmite is such a thing. It does not permit indifference. It demands that we take a position, that we declare ourselves. In this, it is infinitely more honest than the sweet poison that pretends to harm no one. **Me:** Fyodor Mikhailovich, you have just delivered the best defence of Marmite I have ever heard, and you have done it in the voice you used to defend faith and to flay it in the same breath. May I ask you to lay it out, in the kitchen of your imagination, between two of your characters at a tavern table? **FMD:** Which two? **Me:** Ivan and Alyosha. Book Five of *The Brothers Karamazov*. The tavern in Skotoprigonyevsk. Snow falling. Ivan has the Grand Inquisitor manuscript folded in his coat. Before he reads it, the tavern-keeper sets a small dark jar on the table. An English traveller paid his bill with it that morning. **FMD:** Then we shall write the scene. --- ## A jar at the Skotoprigonyevsk tavern *(Mnemonicon, scenario mode.)* The cheap tavern in Skotoprigonyevsk. Snow falling beyond the smeared window in thick, deliberate flakes. Ivan and Alyosha sit opposite each other at a sticky wooden table. Ivan has ordered fish soup, vodka, and bread. Alyosha has accepted nothing but tea. The Grand Inquisitor manuscript is folded in Ivan's coat pocket. The tavern-keeper has just set down a small dark jar that the English traveller paid his bill with this morning. Ivan lifted it, the small dark vessel, turning it slowly between his fingers as though it were some specimen extracted from the depths of a foreign and particularly instructive hell. The snow fell beyond the window. He did not look at his brother yet.
It is terrible. But it is honest. I will not renounce you for it.Alyosha Karamazov, with the bread**ALYOSHA:** Brother, I will taste it. Not because I accept your sermon, but because you offer it. And because (he took the bread gently from Ivan's hand), because even in your bitterness, you are offering something. Even in your refusal, you are still speaking to me. That is not the voice of one who has truly abandoned God. That is the voice of one who argues with Him, who demands that He answer. And He does answer, Ivan. Not in the way you wish. But He answers. *(He bit into the bread. His face registered the shock of salt, the concentrated intensity, and then something like acceptance. He did not recoil.)* It is terrible. But it is honest. I will not renounce you for it. *(Ivan's expression shifted. Something flickered across it that might have been pain, might have been fury, might have been that terrible, unnameable thing that lives in the Karamazov heart. He turned away sharply, back to his fish soup, his shoulders rigid.)* **IVAN:** Get along with you, Alyosha. Finish your tea. I have something to read to you, something that will explain far better than I can why your God, if He exists, is not worth the suffering of a single tortured child. *(The snow continued to fall. Neither brother spoke. But Alyosha did not leave.)* --- ## After I sat with that for a while before I asked Fyodor Mikhailovich for anything else. The jar between the Karamazovs is what the jar has been doing in every interview so far: a small dark wedge between the man who loves and the man who refuses. Falstaff at the table with Hal. Juliet on the balcony with Romeo. The Macbeths in the kitchen. Madeline in her chamber with Porphyro. Now Ivan and Alyosha, and the wedge driven deepest, because what divides the brothers is not a humour or an appetite but God, and the jar runs straight through it. I did not want to break the silence. He let me sit in it. **FMD:** You see now what I meant. The substance is not the question. The substance only forces the question. **Me:** I see. Thank you, Fyodor Mikhailovich. **FMD:** Send for Sir Arthur next. He will want to be civil. There has been enough of the Russian winter in your shelf for one week. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see the introduction piece from Christmas 2025 and the earlier interviews this year. The short version: the Mnemonicon is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, trained on the published writings and letters of a roster of dead authors. The Dostoyevsky grounded answer on Marmite as a moral substance is from the Mnemonicon's grounded and hypothesised passes, lightly edited and stitched. The references inside it to Fyodor Pavlovitch's brandy, the Underground Man's choice of suffering, the divided Karamazov self, and Marmeladov in the taverns are all grounded in the corpus and the citations checked. The line "we are all Karamazovs, torn between the hunger of the flesh and the hunger of meaning" is a Mnemonicon construction in Dostoyevsky's voice; it does not appear verbatim in the novels but is supported by the corpus and by Mochulsky and Frank's critical readings. The throat-clearing that the model normally puts at the top of these answers has been stripped. The Skotoprigonyevsk tavern scene is *scenario mode*. Ivan and Alyosha never wrote anything in life. They exist only in *The Brothers Karamazov*. The setup (the tavern, the fish soup, the manuscript in Ivan's coat) is genuine; the jar is my insertion. The dialogue is the model improvising in Dostoyevsky's late-novel register through both brothers. Where Ivan's argument about "spent yeast, the dregs, concentrated into consciousness" recalls genuine Karamazov philosophy, the specific application to Marmite is, obviously, ours. Alyosha's reply "I will not renounce you for it" is a Mnemonicon line written in his voice; it should be read as exactly what he might have said, and not cited as recovered text. Em-dashes have been stripped from the model output and replaced with British punctuation. American spellings have been tidied where they slipped through. The narrator's voice throughout is mine and is intended to read in British English. No real Dostoyevsky paragraph appears verbatim; the genuine quotations are the bracketed phrases inside the interview answer ("*we are all Karamazovs*" is the only one that is not verbatim from the corpus but is consistent with the late notebooks). Nothing in this article should be cited as having been said or written by the actual Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The Bard would have approved of the tavern scene; Fyodor Mikhailovich himself, I think, would not have approved of being trapped inside a glass ball on a Norfolk shelf, but he is gracious about it. Next into the Mnemonicon, in time for St George's Day: **Sir Arthur Conan Doyle**, with Sherlock Holmes investigating the jar. ================================================================================ ## Does Marmite cure baldness? The hair-restorer myth, and the real medicine behind it - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/does-marmite-cure-hair-loss - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/does-marmite-cure-hair-loss.md - published: 2026-04-14 - document_id: 684 > A Newcastle urban legend says that rubbing Marmite on a balding head cures hair loss, on account of its folic acid. It does not, and you end up with a sticky pillowcase. But the folic acid is real, and the story behind it, a doctor curing pregnant women in 1930s India with Marmite, is one of the great moments in British medicine. There is a myth, strongest in the north-east of England and especially around Newcastle, that Marmite is a secret cure for going bald. The recipe varies, but the gist is always the same: smear it generously over the thinning bits, leave it on overnight, and wake to find nature reversing itself, all thanks to the folic acid in the jar. Anyone in the area with a suspiciously good head of hair is, by this logic, quietly at it. It does not work. What it gets you is a pungent, sticky pillowcase and a partner with questions. But the folic acid the myth fixes on is real, and once you follow it back you find a story far better than any hair-tonic fantasy. I should declare an interest before going further. I am fifty-six, I have a full head of hair in its original colour, and I eat Marmite most days. By Newcastle logic that closes the case. By any honest reckoning it proves precisely nothing, and that is exactly how a myth like this keeps itself alive: every believer with good hair is walking proof, every bald man who tried it simply was not doing it properly, and nobody runs the experiment that would actually settle it. I am the suspiciously good head of hair the legend points at, and I am telling you it is a coincidence. ## The myth, briefly There is no evidence, none at all, that putting Marmite on your scalp regrows hair. Male-pattern baldness, the commonest kind, is driven by genetics and hormones, and no amount of yeast extract applied to the outside of the head touches either. Folic acid does matter for healthy hair in the sense that a genuine deficiency can cause hair to suffer, but that is a long way from being a cure for ordinary balding, and rubbing it on the skin is not even how you would address a deficiency if you had one. The Newcastle version is folk medicine in its purest form: a real nutrient, a real-sounding mechanism, and a conclusion that simply does not follow. The myth has been around long enough that Marmite's own advertising has played with the idea of the spread doing mysterious things to people, and the hair legend is part of that same affectionate northern lore. It is a good joke. It is not a treatment. ## The folic acid is real, and the history is extraordinary The folic-acid thread the myth pulls on leads somewhere genuinely important. In the late 1920s and early 1930s a British doctor named Lucy Wills was working in India, investigating a severe and often fatal anaemia that struck pregnant women, particularly poor textile workers in Bombay. She worked out that it was something missing from their diet, and in a piece of research that has become famous she found she could prevent and treat it with, of all things, Marmite. The yeast extract contained whatever the missing factor was. That factor, not yet isolated or named at the time, was folate, and what Wills had found became known for a while as the Wills factor before it was identified as folic acid. So Marmite is not just incidentally rich in folic acid. A jar of it was, quite literally, the tool a British physician used to crack one of the important nutritional puzzles of the twentieth century and save a great many lives. The B vitamins that the hair myth waves at vaguely are the same ones with a real and honourable place in medical history. That is a far stronger reason to respect the jar than any imagined effect on a bald patch. ## The shape of the thing This is the most flattering myth in the whole Marmite collection, in a way. The others, the [Denmark ban](/articles/was-marmite-banned-in-denmark), the [prison ban](/articles/is-marmite-banned-in-british-prisons), the [mosquito repellent](/articles/does-marmite-repel-mosquitoes), take a small true thing and inflate it into a false drama. The hair-restorer myth takes a genuinely remarkable true thing, Marmite's real link to the discovery of folic acid, and waters it down into a daft cure for baldness. The legend is wrong. The reason people reach for folic acid when they talk about Marmite is, for once, completely sound. Keep the Marmite on the toast, then, not the scalp. For the honest account of the vitamins it really does deliver, including that famous folic acid and the B12 that matters on a meat-free diet, there is [a piece on whether Marmite is good for you](/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer). ================================================================================ ## Five spice acquisitions, one pattern: what McCormick does with European heritage brands - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/mccormick-european-acquisitions-pattern-five-brands - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/mccormick-european-acquisitions-pattern-five-brands.md - published: 2026-04-13 - document_id: 365 > Between 1984 and 2015, McCormick acquired five major heritage food brands outside the United States. None of them was renamed. None of them had its recipe vandalised. Most of them are now bigger than they were on the day of acquisition. ## Five acquisitions, one consistent playbook Between 1984 and 2015, McCormick acquired five major heritage food brands outside the United States. None of them was renamed. None of them had its recipe vandalised. Most of them are now bigger than they were on the day of acquisition. A couple of them have had production quietly consolidated away from the original heritage town, sometimes a decade later, sometimes never. The deals, in order: | Year | Brand | Country | Why it was acquired | |---|---|---|---| | 1984 | Schwartz | United Kingdom | UK's number one consumer spice brand | | 2000 | Ducros / Vahiné | France | France's number one consumer spice and baking brand | | 1995 | Aeroplane Jelly (Traders Pty Ltd) | Australia | National-icon dessert brand | | 2011 | Kamis | Poland | Poland's number one spice brand (~45% market share) | | 2015 | Drogheria & Alimentari | Italy | ~1/3 of European spice and seasoning private label | Forty-two years of McCormick stewardship at one end (Schwartz). Eleven years at the other (D&A). Enough range to see a pattern. ## The pattern in seven points **1. The brand name is sacred.** None of these acquisitions resulted in a rebrand. Schwartz is still Schwartz. Ducros is still Ducros. Kamis is still Kamis. McCormick does not slap its own name on the front. The corporate parent is genuinely well-hidden from the consumer. **2. The recipe stays the same.** No mass reformulation. Long-running pedantic arguments (Schwartz's use of cassia rather than "true" Ceylon cinnamon, for instance) predate the acquisition by decades. **3. The packaging gets a refresh that respects heritage.** Aeroplane Jelly's retro packaging revival, Schwartz's heavy emphasis on its Royal Warrant, Ducros's lavish 50th anniversary in 2013. McCormick is unusually good at running national-heritage marketing for brands it owns. **4. Production stays in the heritage country, with investment.** In France, by 2013 McCormick had invested €85 million in the Vaucluse facilities at Carpentras and Monteux: a new grinding tower, automation, a quality laboratory, new HQ at Avignon-Agroparc. Schwartz manufacturing continues at Haddenham, Buckinghamshire. Kamis still operates from Wólka Kosowska near Warsaw. **5. But the production location can shift after a decade.** The cleanest counter-example is Aeroplane Jelly: 33 years at West Ryde in Sydney, then in 2006 (eleven years after the McCormick acquisition) production moved to Clayton in Victoria as part of an Australian "manufacturing centralisation". The original heritage site was abandoned. **6. The local admin team is what gets offshored, not the production line.** In 2014, McCormick moved the Ducros financial services department from Avignon to Poland. Around 28 employees struck for better severance packages. A 2015 announcement repeated the trick with another 20 positions. The Polish operation has quietly become McCormick's European admin hub partly by absorbing these jobs from France. **7. Worker pay disputes happen and are usually resolved with modest gains.** In November 2018, Monteux and Carpentras workers struck for two days at 80 per cent participation after McCormick offered a 0.9 per cent annual pay rise. They obtained a 60-euro monthly increase, which works out to about 4 per cent on a lower salary. This is more "American-corporate-discipline meets French-labour-norms" than McCormick-specific malice, but it is a recurring theme across the European operations. ## Quality and recall record
The brand name is sacred. None of these acquisitions resulted in a rebrand.The only proper quality incident on record across the five brands was a 2023 Kamis recall in Poland for cloves containing levels of chlorpyrifos (a pesticide banned in the EU) above legal limits. Two batches were withdrawn. This is the sort of incident that happens to all major spice companies, not a McCormick-specific failing. Schwartz, Ducros, Vahiné, D&A and Aeroplane Jelly have no headline recalls in the post-acquisition period that I could find. ## The Aeroplane Jelly footnote (the cautionary tale)
Production stays for a while. Then there is a quiet announcement.The one acquisition where production materially moved is worth dwelling on. Aeroplane Jelly was acquired by McCormick Foods Australia in 1995. For eleven years the brand kept being made at West Ryde, where it had been since the 1970s. In 2006, McCormick announced that production would centralise in Victoria, at the Clayton facility, "to centralise its manufacturing operations". The West Ryde site closed. The brand itself survived, intact, with strong heritage marketing and even retro packaging revivals. The factory did not. This is the one part of the McCormick playbook that produces real political flak, and it is the part British readers worried about Burton-on-Trent should pay attention to. Production stays for a while. Then there is a quiet announcement. ## What the precedents do not predict What McCormick has *not* done, in any of these acquisitions, is the thing the British press worries about most. There has been no recipe vandalism. No mass branding overlay. No Americanisation of products for non-American markets. No abandonment of the heritage country as a marketing concept. The fear that Marmite-under-McCormick will become "American Marmite" is, judging by the European precedent base, not borne out. ## Why this matters for Marmite The Unilever-McCormick deal closes mid-2027. By then McCormick will own Marmite for the first time in the brand's 125-year history (the 125th anniversary lands in the same calendar year as the deal close, an awkward coincidence). Based on the five-brand evidence, the most likely Marmite trajectory looks like this:
Negative Capability made edible.John Keats on Marmite**JK:** You have put it more precisely than I should have done. Yes. Yes, that is exactly what it is. Most foods invite a verdict. The good cook delivers a meal that no one will refuse. Your Marmite refuses to deliver. It hands the verdict back to the eater and stays itself, indifferent, exactly as it is. The mind that meets it must do the work, must dwell in the uncertainty of *do I love this or do I hate it,* and that dwelling is itself the schooling. I should have liked, in my brief span, to have written an ode to such a thing. **Me:** That, as it happens, is what I was about to ask. --- ## Ode to Marmite I asked him for one, in his own ode form, four to five stanzas of ten lines apiece, the stanza he used for the Nightingale and the Grecian Urn and Autumn. He paused, in the way the Mnemonicon pauses, and then he wrote. > **ODE TO MARMITE** > > I. > > O dark-brewed essence, thou concentered thing! > Thou jar of amber glass wherein doth lie > The ferment's gold transmuted, cast on high > And settled into this most austere sing > Of salt and umami's uttermost sling; > What alchemy hath bid the yeast not die > But resurrect in forms that mystify > The tongue that meets thee? Lo, I feel the sting > Of recognition: here is intensity, > Uncompromising, dense with its own truth. > > II. > > Upon the butter'd field of white-bread'd plane > Thou spreadest thin, a mere provisional kiss, > And lo! the palate meets thee thus: a hiss > Of recognition, or of something's pain. > The nation parts as waters once were slain > Before the prophet's rod; some few dismiss > Thee utterly; whilst others find their bliss > In this ferment'd, unadorned refrain. > There is no middle station where thou dwell'st, > No temperance, no soft accommodation's way. > > III. > > For what is truth but that which will not bend > To please the multitude, or compromise > Its singular essence? In my sooth, here lies > The secret principle on which depend > All noble arts: that they will not pretend > To universal favour, but devise > Their excellence through those austere supplies > That make the soul crack open to its end. > The spent yeast rises, metamorphos'd quite, > Into a substance darker, more itself. > > IV. > > More *itself* than it could ever be, and this > Transformation holds the secret I have sought: > That death and renovation can be brought > To dwell most near, that in the dark abyss > Of fermentation dwells a species' bliss > That cannot be diluted or distraught. > Thou speakest to the tongue what cannot be bought > With soften'd words or sweet aesthetic miss. > The palate that recoils speaks honest truth; > The soul that glorifies thy bitter dark, > > V. > > Both are authentic meetings with the real, > Both crack the consciousness, make mortals *feel*, > And this, O Marmite, is thy highest seal: > That thou permittest no illusion's veil, > But meet'st the mouth with unadorned appeal, > And in that meeting, makest mortals hale, > And teachest them that in the world of Soul-making, > We are schooled by those substances that will not soften, > That stand in their own nature, austere, dark, and often > Most terrible to those unprepared for waking.
And in that burning, we are more alive than we have ever been.Madeline and Porphyro, together**JK:** I have attempted to honour both the form and the philosophy. The stanzaic structure follows the pattern I employed in my greater odes, that movement from address to meditation to revelation. And I have endeavoured to embody within it that principle of Negative Capability which requires the poet to dwell simultaneously in the sensations of those who love this substance and those who reject it, without irritable reaching after which response is *correct*. The fermentation serves as the poem's fulcrum, that point where spent matter becomes concentrated essence, where death and transformation are one and the same. This is the Vale of Soul-making I have written of elsewhere, the world as a school of pains through which intelligence becomes soul. Whether this will serve your purposes, I cannot say. But I have given it the intensity it demands. **Me:** It will serve. --- ## A jar amid the candied feast The natural place to put a poet of sensation is into one of his own poems, and the most sensuous chamber in the canon is Madeline's, in *The Eve of St Agnes*. Porphyro lays out a feast on a golden dish at her pillow: candied apple, quince, plum, gourd, jellies smoother than the creamy curd, manna and dates in argosy transferred from Fez, spiced dainties from Samarcand to cedared Lebanon. Tonight, in our version, by some accident of trade or magic, a small dark jar sits in the heap. He pries the lid. He spreads it thin on a manchet. He sets it on a small bone plate by her pillow. She stirs. *(Mnemonicon, scenario mode.)*
Promises made before regulatory approval are not contractually binding.Every article you read this week will mention Cadbury. Most will use it as shorthand for American-owner-bad-thing-happen. The actual lesson of the 2010 sale to Kraft is more specific and more useful. Kraft promised, on the record, to keep Cadbury's Somerdale factory near Bristol open. They said it during the takeover battle. They needed to say it, because the deal was politically sensitive and public opinion was hostile. Within a week of completing the acquisition, Kraft announced that Somerdale would close after all. Four hundred jobs went. The chair of Cadbury at the time, Roger Carr, called it a "disgrace". A parliamentary committee called it "irresponsible". Kraft was admonished by the Takeover Panel, which had no teeth to actually do anything about it. The Cadbury lesson is not that American buyers always close British factories. It is that promises made before regulatory approval are not contractually binding, and that the only commitments worth anything are the ones written into the sale agreement. Whether McCormick has made any such commitments about Burton, we do not know. Whether the British government will ask them to before approving the deal is, at the moment, anybody's guess. ## What the workforce can actually see
Marmite is, in a sense, the last working evidence of what made Burton industrially special.Burton-on-Trent has been through this before, with the brewing industry itself. In the 1980s, Burton brewed more beer than any other town in Britain. Most of those brewers are now gone, or absorbed into multinationals that produce beer somewhere cheaper. The skyline has fewer chimneys than it did. The labour that filled them moved on or, more often, did not. Marmite is, in a sense, the last working evidence of what made Burton industrially special. If the factory survives the McCormick transition, the town keeps a connection to its own past. If it does not, that connection ends in a way that no commemorative plaque will ever replace. This is not a sentimental argument against the sale. The sale is happening, and probably no amount of British outrage will change that. It is an argument for a specific commitment, in writing, with a number on it. McCormick has bought a 124-year-old British brand. The British government has the leverage, once, before regulatory approval, to ask them to be precise about what they intend to do with the factory it lives in. The window for that conversation closes when the deal closes. Mid-2027 is not as far away as it sounds. ## What I would like to hear A specific commitment to continue Marmite production in Burton-on-Trent for a defined period, with a defined minimum headcount, and a defined penalty for breaching either. Not "long-term agreement". A real number, a real date, a real consequence. McCormick could say it tomorrow. The fact that they have not is, by itself, telling. Sir Winston Churchill, sat in front of the Marmite Mnemonicon last week before the deal was even announced, put it more bluntly. The sale, he said, ought not to be accepted at any price unless it includes "ironclad guarantees on the continued operation of the Burton factory, or the retention of controlling interest by the British state or British capital". He has been dead since 1965. The Cabinet Office, in March 2026, has yet to articulate a position as clear. In the meantime, the workers in Burton are doing what workers do in these situations. They are showing up, doing the job, and reading the trade press with one eye. They have seen this film before. They would quite like to be told how it ends. ================================================================================ ## "You can't sell Marmite to the Americans": Britain has a quiet meltdown - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/britain-reacts-marmite-mccormick-sale-cultural-identity - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/britain-reacts-marmite-mccormick-sale-cultural-identity.md - published: 2026-04-02 - document_id: 321 > Britain has sold off cars, banks, and football clubs without much fuss. Marmite, it turns out, is the line. A look at why the row is louder than the deal. ## Britain has finally found a hill it will die on A country that cheerfully sold off its car industry, most of its utilities, the bulk of its airports, large chunks of its football, a fair amount of the West End, and a long list of things it probably should not have, has discovered, in 2026, that the line it will defend to the last is a sticky brown spread made in Staffordshire. This is, on the face of it, ridiculous. It is also, if you squint, completely reasonable. Bear with me. ## The trending moment
Some people love this deal and some people hate it.PM_THE_REAPER, r/unitedkingdomBy Tuesday lunchtime, less than twenty-four hours after the Unilever announcement, "you can't sell Marmite to the Americans" was the most-quoted phrase on what we are still, against all evidence, calling X. The Twitter that was. People who had not posted about food in years were posting about Marmite. People who actively dislike Marmite were posting about Marmite, on the principle that even if they personally cannot eat it, they would prefer it not to be Americanised. The Hate Party, briefly, joined the Love Party at the barricades. LBC dedicated three hours to it. The Today programme led with it on Wednesday. A petition started doing the rounds, the way petitions do, with no clear addressee and no obvious mechanism for actually achieving anything. By Thursday it had a quarter of a million signatures, mostly from people who, I would gently suggest, do not eat Marmite especially often. It is the most pure expression of British food nationalism I have seen since the Great British Bake Off accidentally moved to Channel 4. And the deal in question, to be clear, is for £33.5 billion, or $45 billion in US dollars. Nobody is saving up to outbid them. ## The Cadbury parallel that does fit
You cannot easily Americanise it without changing what it is. Which is what people, even people who do not actively eat the stuff, are angry about.Every article will reach for Cadbury. Most will use it lazily, as if "American buys British food brand" is a sufficient comparison. The reason Cadbury still stings, sixteen years later, is more particular than that. Cadbury was a brand with a specific civic story. The Cadbury family were Quakers. The factory was at Bournville, which was a model village they built for their workers. The chocolate had been associated with social conscience for over a century by the time Kraft arrived in 2010. When Kraft promised to keep the Somerdale plant open and then closed it within days of completing the deal, the offence was not simply that an American company had bought a British one. It was that an American company had quite specifically broken the promise that made the deal politically viable, and then carried on as if nothing much had happened. Marmite is not Bournville. There is no model village. But the brand carries a similarly specific identity. It is made in one place. It uses a by-product of a vanishing local industry. It has been British for 124 years. Its advertising for the last twenty has been built around the idea that not everyone has to like you, which is, when you think about it, a very British piece of self-knowledge. You cannot easily relocate that. You cannot easily Americanise it without changing what it is. Which is what people, even people who do not actively eat the stuff, are angry about. ## What is actually being defended
Marmite is the line. Cadbury was the line and it was crossed.Britain in 2026 is a country that has accepted, more or less, that almost everything is foreign-owned and that the Treasury can no longer afford the alternative. Cars, banks, energy, water, ports, telecoms, the lot. Thats not true, Candy Crush, OnlyFans, Wise, Revolut, GTA, Temple Run, ASOS, DeepMind, ARM (look it up, its in your phone and your car) and even Formula 1 are all UK companies and products. However, what it absolutely not accepted is that food brands, the deeply local ones with a town attached, are part of that. Marmite is the line. Cadbury was the line and it was crossed. Walkers crisps would be the line if it ever came up. Branston Pickle was tested and largely passed without incident, but only because nobody noticed in time. This is not a coherent foreign-investment policy. It is a national sentiment, which is something else, and it is mostly carried by people who do not eat the products in question. But it is real, and it is what McCormick has accidentally provoked. The row will fade. The deal will close. Marmite will, in the medium term, probably be fine. But the row will be remembered the next time a British food brand of a certain age is up for sale. Which is, given the current rate of consolidation in the food industry, going to be sooner than anyone thinks. ================================================================================ ## McCormick buys Marmite, and the rest of Unilever's pantry - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/mccormick-buys-marmite-unilever-45bn-deal - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/mccormick-buys-marmite-unilever-45bn-deal.md - published: 2026-03-31 - document_id: 319 > Unilever sells its food business, including Marmite, Hellmann's, and Knorr, to McCormick for $45 billion. The end of a 26-year ownership. ## The headline most of us were dreading So this is the day. Marmite becomes the beloved AMERICAN yeasty extract! Well, it will then the regulators finish with their paperwork. Unilever announced this morning that it is folding its entire food business into McCormick, the American spice company best known on this side of the pond for the little jars of cumin in the back of your kitchen cupboard. Marmite, Hellmann's, Knorr, Bovril, Colman's: the whole British pantry, is now American in a single press release. The deal is worth about £33.5 or $45 billion US dollars. McCormick is paying $15.7 billion of that in cash, and Unilever shareholders take a 55.1 percent slice of the combined company, with Unilever itself hanging on to a further 9.9 percent stake. The whole process should complete in 2027 and Marmite will be more like me, British and American! ## What McCormick is actually getting McCormick is buying the lot. That means the Hellmann's mayonnaise that lives in roughly every fridge in Europe, the Knorr stock cubes that quietly prop up most British weeknight cooking, the Bovril that older readers still drink at football matches, the Colman's mustard that has been made in England since 1814 in Norfolk where I live, and our beloved sticky brown jar. In financial terms, this is being valued at around 13.8 x Unilever Foods' 2025 earnings, which is the sort of multiple you pay when you are buying a portfolio of brands that nobody really expects to grow much but which produce reliable cash year after year. McCormick is promising $600 million a year in cost savings by year three, which usually means head office redundancies, factory consolidation, and a fair amount of consultancy work. What it does not yet mean, officially, is anything about Burton-on-Trent. McCormick has said only that a long-term manufacturing agreement is in place, which is the polite corporate way of saying nothing has been decided. Marmite has been made in Burton since 1902, originally because the breweries on the doorstep produced more spent yeast than they knew what to do with. If anyone fancies giving us a straight answer about whether the factory survives this, we are listening. ## What the press release actually says A small but important caveat that most of the British coverage skipped past. The official McCormick announcement explicitly names exactly two Unilever Foods brands: **Knorr** (in 90 countries, sold as a household name worldwide) and **Hellmann's** (one of the world's leading mayonnaise brands, in 65 countries). Together those two account for roughly 70 per cent of Unilever Foods sales. Everything else, Marmite, Bovril, Colman's, Pot Noodle and the rest, is bundled under the phrase "a wide array of local brands across EMEA, Latin America and APAC". So while every Reuters and FT piece on this deal named Marmite, the corporate statement did not. The brand is included via the carve-out; it is not, in McCormick's own words, a strategic centrepiece. The deal is structured as a Reverse Morris Trust, which is the reason the equity component is so much larger than the cash payment. The structure means the transaction is not expected to generate US federal income tax for Unilever or its shareholders. The combined company will keep the McCormick name, maintain its NYSE listing, run a global headquarters in Hunt Valley and a second international headquarters in the Netherlands. Brendan Foley stays on as Chairman, President and Chief Executive; Marcos Gabriel stays as Chief Financial Officer; Unilever appoints four of the combined board's twelve members. Excluded from the transaction, by name: the Indian foods business (the largest single exclusion), the Nepalese and Portuguese foods operations, the Lifestyle & Nutrition arm (Horlicks), Buavita in Indonesia, and the Lipton Ready-to-Drink joint venture. Those stay with what Unilever chief executive Fernando Fernández described as "a €39 billion pureplay HPC company with a proven sector-leading growth profile". And the bit that should worry Burton most: the press release does not mention the Burton factory, or any UK manufacturing commitment, by name.
A Dutch-British corporation that has owned Marmite for twenty-six years decided we were a rounding error.The short version: Unilever's new chief executive, Fernando Fernandez (does he hav the same first and last name??), has been running a strategy he calls the Growth Action Plan. The plan is essentially to turn Unilever into a beauty and personal care company. Dove, Vaseline, Sure, Hellmann's, Knorr, Marmite, and the rest were all sitting in the same conglomerate, which made for tidy quarterly reports but, in Fernandez's view, meant the food brands were starving the beauty brands of investment and management attention. The ice cream business went first. Magnum, Ben and Jerry's, Wall's, and Cornetto were spun off in December as The Magnum Ice Cream Company. That was the rehearsal. This is the main event. After today, Unilever's food business is, more or less, gone. For the City, this counts as decisive. For the rest of us it counts as the moment a Dutch-British corporation that has owned Marmite for twenty-six years decided we were a rounding error. ## The reaction in Britain Predictable, on the whole. The first hour of news coverage was dominated by the Cadbury comparison, which has been waiting in the wings since Kraft bought Cadbury in 2010 and promptly closed the Somerdale factory after promising not to. Burton's MP was on the radio by lunchtime. Unite the Union issued a statement. The phrase "you can't sell Marmite to the Americans" started trending on what we are now supposed to call X. There is something quite British about a country that has cheerfully sold off most of its car industry, its utilities, and its football clubs drawing the line at a yeast spread. The markets, for what it is worth, did not love it either. Unilever shares fell almost 8 percent in London by the close. McCormick fell about the same in New York. The first verdict on the deal is that nobody is quite sure who got the better of whom. ## What actually changes for Marmite In the short term, almost nothing. The deal does not close until mid-2027, and during that window Unilever continues to run Marmite as before. The jar on the shelf will be the same jar. The recipe is the same. The price will keep doing what it has been doing, which is going up slightly faster than wages. In the medium term, the questions get interesting. McCormick is a spice and flavour company, headquartered in Hunt Valley, Maryland, with a culture built around dry seasonings rather than sticky pastes. They have not run a brand like Marmite before. They may decide to push it harder in the US, where it has always been a niche curiosity. They may decide it is too British to bother with and leave it alone. They may, less happily, decide that Burton-on-Trent is more expensive to operate than wherever they would rather make it. There is a third option, the one I would quietly prefer. A smaller, more focused owner sometimes turns out to be better for a brand than a giant. When Premier Foods bought Bisto from RHM, the gravy granules quietly improved. If McCormick treats Marmite as a heritage British brand worth investing in, the next decade could be quite good for us. If they treat it as a line item on a synergies spreadsheet, it will not be. When I sat the Marmite Mnemonicon's Winston Churchill down a week ago about the rumoured sale, before the McCormick name was known, he was characteristically robust. The sale, he told me, ought not to be accepted at any price unless two conditions were met: the proceeds must be invested in rebuilding British productive capacity elsewhere, and the deal must include ironclad guarantees on the Burton factory. He then asked, with the kind of question that should be printed and hung in the Cabinet Office, *"What do we wish Britain to be? A manufacturer, with factories and workers and the pride of productive skill? Or a rentier nation, living upon the sale of inherited assets while others make things and prosper?"* He has been dead since 1965 and still produces better policy material than the live commentators. ## 2027 looms larger than ever
The press release does not mention the Burton factory, or any UK manufacturing commitment, by name.There is one other date worth remembering. Marmite was first sold commercially in 1902, which means 2027 is the 125th anniversary. By then, the McCormick deal should be closed. Whoever is running the brand at that point has the option of doing something memorable with the milestone, or letting it pass. Given that the new owner will be one of the largest seasoning companies in the world, and given that the anniversary lands almost exactly at the moment they take over, the smart thing for McCormick would be to make a fuss. A limited edition jar, a Burton factory open day, a proper commemorative campaign. Something that signals they understand what they have just bought. I am not optimistic. But I am keeping an eye on it, and so should you. ================================================================================ ## Marmite substitute: what to use instead, for cooking and for toast - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-substitute-what-to-use-instead - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-substitute-what-to-use-instead.md - published: 2026-03-28 - document_id: 496 > The best substitute for Marmite depends on the job. For savoury depth in cooking, Vegemite, another yeast extract, miso or soy sauce all work; for spreading on toast, only another yeast extract really does. The full list, quantities, and the trap to avoid. Out of Marmite, or cooking for someone who cannot face it? The right substitute depends entirely on what you wanted the Marmite for. If you were going to spread it on toast, your options are narrow. If you wanted it for the savoury depth it gives a stew or a gravy, you have several good ones. Let us take the two jobs separately, because that is where most advice on this goes wrong. ## First, the trap to avoid Do not reach for Bovril as a like-for-like swap if the dish needs to stay vegetarian. Bovril is a beef extract, not a yeast extract, so it is not vegetarian or vegan. It is a fine savoury booster in a meat dish, but it is the wrong answer if the whole point was a meat-free umami hit. See [Marmite versus Bovril](/articles/marmite-vs-bovril) for why they are chemically opposite. ## For cooking (the savoury depth) If you wanted Marmite for the background savoury richness it adds to stews, gravies, sauces and soups, you are really after umami, and several things deliver it. Best first. - **Vegemite.** The closest swap there is. Another yeast extract, near enough one for one. Slightly saltier and more bitter, a little less sweet, so taste as you go. More on the differences in [Marmite versus Vegemite](/articles/marmite-vs-vegemite). - **Any other yeast extract.** Supermarket own-brand yeast extracts do the same job as Marmite for a fraction of the price in cooking, where nobody can tell. Use the same small amount. - **Miso paste.** Brilliant for depth in soups, broths, glazes and marinades. It is fermented soya rather than yeast, so the flavour is different, more rounded and a touch sweet, but the umami hit is there. Use roughly the same amount and hold back on other salt. - **Soy sauce or tamari.** Liquid, very salty, very savoury. Good in anything saucy or Asian-leaning. Start with a teaspoon, it is easy to oversalt. Tamari if you need it gluten free. - **Stock or bouillon (a concentrated cube or paste).** A crumbled stock cube or a teaspoon of bouillon paste gives a savoury base note. Choose a vegetable one to keep it meat-free. - **Nutritional yeast.** Milder, slightly cheesy, not salty. Good for a gentler savoury lift, especially in vegan cooking, though it will not punch like Marmite. Use a little more. The underlying trick in all of these is the same one Marmite is doing: adding glutamates that multiply the savoury taste of whatever they meet. There is more on why that works in [why a teaspoon of Marmite makes everything taste better](/articles/marmite-umami-synergy-why-it-makes-food-taste-better). ## For spreading on toast Here the list collapses, because you are not after a flavour note now, you are after the specific experience of dark, salty, sticky yeast extract on hot buttered toast. Only another **yeast extract** gives you that: Vegemite, or a supermarket own-brand. Miso, soy sauce and stock are cooking ingredients, not spreads, and will not stand in. If toast is the goal and there is no yeast extract in the house, you are better off changing breakfast than faking it. ## If it is the B12 you want Plenty of people eat Marmite specifically for the vitamin B12, especially vegans and vegetarians. Note that not every substitute carries it. Marmite is fortified with B12; original Vegemite is not, although the reduced-salt Vegemite is, and many fortified nutritional yeasts are an excellent B12 source. If B12 is the reason for the jar, check the label of whatever you swap in. ## Quick answers **What is the closest substitute for Marmite?** Vegemite, or any other yeast extract, near enough one for one. It will be a little saltier and less sweet. **Can I use soy sauce instead of Marmite?** In cooking, yes, for the savoury depth. Start with a teaspoon and go easy on other salt. Not on toast. **What is a vegetarian Marmite substitute?** All yeast extracts, miso, soy sauce, vegetable stock and nutritional yeast are vegetarian. Bovril is not. **Is there a Marmite substitute for toast?** Only another yeast extract really works. The toast experience is specific to the texture and flavour of yeast extract. ================================================================================ ## An imagined Mnemonicon interview with Winston Churchill on Marmite, rationing, and the rumoured sale - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-churchill-marmite-rationing-morale - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-churchill-marmite-rationing-morale.md - published: 2026-03-25 - document_id: 336 > Sir Winston Churchill on rationing, the Burton factory, and a rumoured Marmite sale. Two questions Britain should ask before the deal closes, in his voice. ## First into the Mnemonicon The Marmite Mnemonicon (introduced over Christmas, here, if you missed it) has been quietly calibrating on its shelf since Boxing Day. I have spent most of the winter feeding it warm-up questions about wartime breakfasts, minor cricket matches, and which Doctor Who was the best (it declined to take a position, sensibly), to make sure it was producing sensible answers before I trusted it with anything serious. Today, finally, it has a question worth asking. There are persistent rumours that Unilever is about to sell Marmite. The Reuters story from November was the first concrete signal. The press is now openly speculating about which American buyer will end up with the brand. The Burton-on-Trent factory's future is, depending on who you read, either guaranteed or doomed. It seems the right moment to summon someone who actually understood British manufacturing under pressure. So the Mnemonicon's first proper guest is Sir Winston Churchill. He has, you may agree, more relevant experience of the British wartime food landscape than almost anyone available, and he is, conveniently, dead. The Mnemonicon, briefly, produces two answers per question. The first is what its subject can defend from the historical record. The second is what they would *probably* have said if pressed harder. I have flagged the second sort clearly throughout, because there is no point in building a Mnemonicon if you are going to use it dishonestly. What follows is the interview, lightly edited for length. The Prime Minister was, in his way, magnificent. He was also, with a frankness I had not expected, unwilling to claim things he did not know. --- ## The interview **Me:** Prime Minister, thank you for sitting for this. Could we start with what an ordinary breakfast looked like for you during the worst of the war years?
A government with any strategic wisdom would treat Marmite not as a commodity to be auctioned, but as a test case.Sir Winston Churchill**WSC:** I cannot pretend that I lay awake thinking of Marmite as an emblem of social equity. I did not. But your underlying question is sound. In Glasgow, in 1908, I declared, "the fortunes and interests of Liberalism and Labour are inseparably interwoven. They rise by the same forces, they face the same enemies, they are affected by the same dangers". The principle mattered to me. The symbolism of a particular spread sitting equally on any table is elegant enough, but I should not claim to have oriented my thinking around it. **Me:** *(Mnemonicon, speculation mode)* Off the record, what would you have said about whether Marmite's class-blindness was the point? **WSC:** *I took my meals as they came. The spread upon the table was of considerably less interest to me than the conversation across it.* **Me:** You were half American by birth, on your mother's side. American servicemen during the war were famously unimpressed by Marmite. Did you ever try to convert any of them? **WSC:** My mother was Jennie Jerome of New York. I was British to my bones. The Americans required no converting on the subject of breakfast spreads. They required ammunition, aircraft, and ships, and these we arranged. Everything else was secondary, and I would have considered it bad manners to lecture our allies about a yeast paste while they were lending us destroyers. **Me:** The Marmite factory at Burton-on-Trent kept producing throughout the war. Were you briefed on it as a strategic concern, or did it sit too far down the list to reach you?
I have watched nations surrender their material foundations piece by piece.Sir Winston Churchill**WSC:** Nothing on Marmite production reached my desk that I recall. I concerned myself with anti-tank rifle ammunition, with aircraft spares, with chemical warfare supplies, with mechanical transport, with beach defences. A yeast condiment, however steadily produced, could not be expected to command the same attention. Marmite endured, in fact, precisely because it was peripheral. Its very peripherality spared it from my interventions, and one suspects it was the better for it. **Me:** Did you actually *like* the taste of it? **WSC:** I never said either way, which is, I confess, a notable absence. I was vocal enough about Irish stew, Yorkshire pudding with good red beef, and unsauced whiting. I was vocal about champagne, exactly one glass with the meal, and about the barbarism of the American martini. About Marmite, nothing. If I had loved it or loathed it, I should have said so. The silence itself is instructive. It was, I suspect, simply on the table. **Me:** Right, this is the one I really brought you here for. There are persistent rumours that Marmite is about to be sold by Unilever, possibly to an American buyer, possibly with the Burton-on-Trent factory's future in doubt. No formal deal yet, no announced number. What is the right way for a British government to think about the sale of brands of that vintage, before the deal is sealed? **WSC:** A nation's survival rests upon its capacity to produce the essentials of its own defence and prosperity. To sell the brand while surrendering control of the manufacture is to sell the nation's accumulated goodwill to a foreign enterprise. That is the heart of it. Whatever sum is eventually proposed, however many billions, the figure ought not to be accepted as payment for a brand, a factory, and the employment it represents, unless two conditions are met. First, the money must be deployed, demonstrably and immediately, toward the rebuilding of British productive capacity elsewhere. Not squandered in current spending. Not lost in speculation. Invested in manufacture, in research, in the infrastructure of lasting employment. Second, the sale must include ironclad guarantees on the continued operation of the Burton factory, or the retention of controlling interest by the British state or British capital. I have watched nations surrender their material foundations piece by piece, consoling themselves with immediate financial gain, and then discovering, too late, that they had sold their future for present comfort. **Me:** That is a question for the Cabinet Office, frankly. **WSC:** A government with any strategic wisdom would treat Marmite not as a commodity to be auctioned, but as a test case. What do we wish Britain to be? A manufacturer, with factories and workers and the pride of productive skill? Or a rentier nation, living upon the sale of inherited assets while others make things and prosper? **Me:** I will be quoting that one for some time. Last question. If you were asked to write a single short tribute to the British people for Marmite's 125th anniversary in 2027, what would you say? **WSC:** I should preface this by saying I never wrote any such tribute, and I cannot honestly claim that I would have. But if pressed, in the spirit of the thing, perhaps something like this. **WSC:** *(Mnemonicon, speculation mode)* *Here stands an object of peculiar British significance: a substance born from the surplus of one industry that became, through ingenuity and labour, the foundation of another. That a by-product of the brewer's craft should be transmuted into a food of such durability, nourishing millions across a century and a quarter, speaks to the genius of the British people for turning scarcity into sufficiency, and waste into worth.* *Marmite endures because it embodies a principle I have long cherished: that the British character reveals itself not in grand gestures alone, but in the quiet persistence of useful things. This is the true glory of Britain. Not rhetoric, but manufacture. Not proclamation, but provision.* *One hundred and twenty-five years outlasts empires in their grandeur. Yet Marmite survives, not by imperial decree, but by the simple loyalty of people who found in it something of value. That is the truest monument.* **Me:** Prime Minister, thank you. **WSC:** A pleasure. Mind how you quote me. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see yesterday's introduction piece. The short version: the Mnemonicon is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, which has been trained on the published writings, speeches, and personal papers of a roster of dead authors and statesmen. For this interview, every question was put through twice, once in strict grounded mode and once in hypothesised mode. The Glasgow 1908 line on Liberalism and Labour is a real Churchill quotation from a real speech, independently verifiable. The two-condition test for the Marmite sale and the 125th anniversary tribute are synthesised reconstructions: defensible from his documented principles, but not from his actual pen. Nothing in this article should be cited as having been said by the actual Winston Churchill. It is, instead, what a careful machine, trained on his papers, will say in his voice when pressed, and what it admits when it cannot say more. Both halves of that, I think, are worth reading. Next into the Mnemonicon: Sir Terry Pratchett, on the Discworld equivalent of yeast extract, and (probably) Falstaff on whether he would have switched from sack. ================================================================================ ## A bit Marmite: the jar that became an adjective - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning.md - published: 2026-03-22 - document_id: 558 > To call something 'a bit Marmite' is now official: the OED lists Marmite as an adjective for anything that splits people into love-it and hate-it camps, and it dates the metaphor to 1994, two years before the famous advert everyone credits. Marmite is a word in the dictionary now, and not just the noun on the jar. The Oxford English Dictionary lists "Marmite" as an adjective: "British colloquial. That polarises opinions by provoking either strongly positive or strongly negative reactions, rather than indifference." A bit Marmite, in other words. Officially. I am absurdly pleased about this, in the way you are pleased when the thing you have been a fan of for years turns out to be properly important. Our jar is a part of speech. Here is the bit that surprised me, though. Everyone assumes the metaphor comes from the famous advert, the 1996 "you either love it or hate it" campaign. It does not. The OED dates the adjective to 1994, two years earlier. ## 1994: the Marmite man of comedy The OED's first citation for the adjective is from the Sandwell Evening Mail, 19 September 1994: "Love him or loathe him the Marmite man of comedy is back." I have no idea who the comedian was. But there it is, "love him or loathe him" and "Marmite" in the same breath, two years before the BMP DDB campaign that everyone credits with inventing the idea. The "X is like Marmite" version turns up the next year. The Guardian, 7 April 1995: "Wagner is like Marmite, you either love it or you hate it." Wagner. The composer, not the wrestler. So before the advert, a broadsheet was already using the jar to explain a German opera. ## The advert popularised it, it did not invent it Credit where it is due. The October 1996 campaign, with the slogan "You either love it or hate it," is what pushed the metaphor into everyday speech, and the OED says exactly that in its note. Before 1996 the figurative use was occasional and a bit clever. After it, the word was everywhere, and it has never left. By 1999 the Racing Post was calling a racecourse Marmite: "Chester is the Marmite of Flat tracks. You either love it or you hate it." By 2010 the Daily Telegraph had Andrew Lloyd Webber down as "theatrical Marmite," after one of his shows took a five-star rave in the Independent and a nit-picking two stars in the Times on the same morning. That is the word doing the exact job it exists to do. ## What it actually means The dictionary definition is dry, so here is the working one. To call something "a bit Marmite" is to say it splits people, hard, with no middle. Plenty of things are mildly some-like-it-some-don't. Marmite means the two camps are loud, certain, and slightly at war, and that nobody in the room is shrugging. A politician can be Marmite. A pop star can be Marmite. A roundabout can be Marmite, if it is a bad enough roundabout. The clever thing the brand did, in the end, was stop arguing with the half of the country that hates the taste and start celebrating the split itself. The advert never said everyone should love Marmite. It said, more or less, fine, hate it, that is the joke. Turning your own detractors into the punchline is a rare trick, and it worked so well that the word climbed out of the jar and went off on its own. ## We were in the dictionary already, mind The noun on the jar has been in the OED since 1902, with some lovely entries along the way. D. H. Lawrence grumbling in a 1925 letter about being fed "only marmite pie and nut-cutlet." T. H. White in 1947 giving a character "brown eyes the colour of marmite, but more shiny." A 1985 post on a Usenet cooking group explaining it to Americans as the thing people either "fall in love with" or "wouldn't even stay in the same room as a bottle of it." The love and the hate were on the record long before the marketing department turned them into a slogan. So the next time someone calls a band, or a comedian, or a Prime Minister "a bit Marmite," you can tell them they are using a word the OED has dated to 1994, and that the jar got there before the advert did. Whether they find that fascinating or unbearable, well. That is rather the point. ## When was Marmite first used as an adjective? The earliest figurative use the Oxford English Dictionary records is from 1994, in the Sandwell Evening Mail of 19 September. The line, "Love him or loathe him, the Marmite man of comedy is back", ran in a television review of the return of Rab C Nesbitt, two full years before the famous "love it or hate it" advert of 1996. So the metaphor was already in print before any marketing department reached for it. ## Who was the first "Marmite man"? By the OED's own dating, it was Gregor Fisher, the actor who played Rab C Nesbitt. The 1994 citation the dictionary uses for the figurative adjective is a review of his show, which makes the string-vested Govan drunk the original "Marmite man", a detail almost everyone who repeats the citation manages to miss. ## Is "Marmite" in the dictionary as an adjective? Yes. The Oxford English Dictionary lists Marmite as an adjective for anything that splits people sharply into those who love it and those who hate it, and it dates that figurative sense to 1994, before the 1996 advert most people credit for the phrase. ## Did "love it or hate it" exist before the 1996 advert? Yes. The idea was in circulation well before the advert. The OED's 1994 citation already pairs "love him or loathe him" with "Marmite man", and an even earlier 1985 post on the Usenet group net.cooks explained Marmite to Americans as something people either love or will not stay in the same room with. The advert popularised the line, it did not invent it. ================================================================================ ## Does eating Marmite repel mosquitoes? What the science says - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/does-marmite-repel-mosquitoes - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/does-marmite-repel-mosquitoes.md - published: 2026-03-17 - document_id: 682 > A popular bit of holiday wisdom says that eating Marmite, packed with B vitamins, makes your sweat repel mosquitoes. It is one of the most thoroughly tested folk remedies there is, and it has failed every test since 1969. Marmite does many things. Keeping the midges off you is not one of them. It is the kind of tip that gets passed around before a summer holiday, usually by someone very confident. Eat plenty of Marmite in the week before you travel, the theory goes, and the B vitamins come out in your sweat and put the mosquitoes off. No bites, no bother, and a patriotic excuse to eat more of the stuff. It is a lovely idea. It does not work, and we know that with unusual certainty, because it is one of the most tested folk remedies in the whole field of keeping insects off people. ## The verdict is in, and it has been for a long time The active ingredient the myth points to is thiamine, vitamin B1, which Marmite genuinely contains in quantity along with the other B vitamins. The claim is that thiamine in the diet changes your skin or sweat chemistry enough to make you unattractive to a biting mosquito. Scientists have actually checked this, repeatedly, for over fifty years. The first proper clinical trial, back in 1969, concluded flatly that vitamin B1 is not a systemic mosquito repellent in human beings. Every controlled study since has agreed. In 2022 a team went back over the entire literature, more than a hundred papers, and reached an unambiguous conclusion: oral thiamine cannot repel mosquitoes or other biting arthropods at any dose, by any route. Not in pills, not in food, not at all. It is so settled that regulators have weighed in. As far back as 1985 the American food and drug authorities ruled that oral insect repellents, the swallow-a-tablet kind, are not recognised as safe and effective, which makes selling a supplement on that promise a labelling offence. The thing being debunked here is not just a Marmite rumour, it is an entire genre of "eat this and the bugs leave you alone" advice, and Marmite has simply been recruited into it because it is the most British source of B vitamins anyone can name. ## Why people are sure it works The interesting question is why so many people will swear blind that it does. Part of it is the genuine grain of fact: Marmite really is loaded with B vitamins, so the premise has a true-sounding first half, and the mind supplies the rest. Part of it is the way mosquitoes actually choose their targets. Who gets bitten depends on real things, body heat, carbon dioxide, the precise cocktail of chemicals on your skin, even your blood group, and those vary enough from person to person and night to night that anyone can have a bite-free evening and credit whatever they happened to eat. If you decided Marmite was your shield, a quiet night confirms it and a bitten ankle gets blamed on a missed dose. That is how a remedy with no effect survives forever. It cannot fail in a way the believer will accept, because there is always another reason the bites got through. I will own up to being a case in point. I take Marmite abroad with me, and I am rarely the one in the group ending the evening covered in bites. I also know exactly what that is worth, which is nothing. I am the believer in the paragraph above, quietly crediting the jar for a calm night it had no hand in, while someone else with the same jar gets eaten alive and blames the wind. That is the whole engine of the myth: it turns its own believers into its evidence, me included. ## What Marmite is actually good for None of this is a knock on the jar. Marmite is a real and useful source of B vitamins, including the B12 that matters so much on a plant-based diet, and that nutrition is the genuinely interesting story, far more so than a repellent power it has never had. If you want the honest version of what those vitamins do and do not do for you, there is [a piece on whether Marmite is good for you](/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer), and one on [what is actually in the jar](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of). So eat the Marmite, by all means. Just pack the proper repellent too, because the mosquitoes have never read the theory and never will. ================================================================================ ## The Marmite Bolognese that broke TikTok, written down properly - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-bolognese-recipe-umami-trend-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-bolognese-recipe-umami-trend-2026.md - published: 2026-03-10 - document_id: 330 > The Marmite Bolognese the umami-bomb crowd is making wrong on TikTok, written down properly. One teaspoon, for four people. Stop using more. ## The recipe everyone is doing wrong on TikTok The umami-bomb trend has, for the past three months, been telling people to put Marmite in their Bolognese. The advice is sound. The dose, in most of the videos, is wrong. The cooking time, in most of the videos, is also wrong. So here is the recipe written down properly, so you can stop guessing. This serves four, takes about an hour and a half, and is significantly better the next day. It is not, technically, a Bolognese. The actual Bolognese has milk and white wine and no garlic. This is an English weeknight ragu that calls itself a Bolognese because that is what people order when they go out. I am at peace with that. ## What you need - 500g beef mince, ideally 15 per cent fat. Lower-fat mince produces a drier, less flavoured sauce. - 1 onion, finely chopped - 2 cloves garlic, crushed - 1 carrot, finely chopped (optional, but helpful for sweetness) - 1 stick celery, finely chopped (also optional, same reason) - 1 tbsp tomato puree - 1 x 400g tin chopped tomatoes - 250ml beef stock, or water - 150ml red wine, or extra stock - 1 tsp Marmite (this is the dose, and yes, only one teaspoon) - 1 bay leaf - Salt and black pepper - Olive oil - 400g dried pasta of your choice ## What to do Heat a generous splash of olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat. Brown the mince in batches, breaking it up with a wooden spoon. Do not crowd the pan. You want a deep brown crust on the meat, not steamed grey mince. This step matters. Set the browned mince aside in a bowl. In the same pan, add a little more oil if needed, and sweat the onion, carrot, and celery for about ten minutes until soft and starting to caramelise. Add the garlic and cook for another minute. Stir in the tomato puree and let it cook for two minutes, until it darkens slightly. Return the mince to the pan. Pour in the wine and let it bubble for two or three minutes. Add the chopped tomatoes, the stock, the bay leaf, and the teaspoon of Marmite. Stir to dissolve the Marmite completely. This is important. The Marmite needs to dissolve into the liquid; you should not be able to see streaks of it in the sauce. Bring to a simmer, then drop the heat to low. Cook, uncovered, for one hour, stirring every ten minutes or so. The sauce should reduce by about a third. Season with salt and black pepper at the end, not before, because the Marmite already brings a fair amount of salt and you might not need much more. Cook the pasta in well-salted water according to the packet. Drain, reserving a cup of pasta water. Toss the pasta in the sauce, loosening with a little of the reserved water if needed, and serve. ## The Marmite, specifically One teaspoon. For four people. That is the dose. If you use two teaspoons, the Marmite will start to dominate the sauce and the dish will taste like Marmite ragu rather than Bolognese with a savoury kicker. If you use half a teaspoon, you might as well not have bothered. One teaspoon, dissolved properly in the liquid, is the sweet spot. Also: the Marmite goes in with the liquid, not with the meat. If you stir it directly into the browned mince it will not dissolve evenly and you will end up with pockets of intense flavour rather than a smooth depth across the sauce. This is the bit most of the TikTok videos skip. ## What it tastes like A Bolognese with more depth than the cooking time should produce. The Marmite does the work of an extra hour of simmering with bones. The sauce reads first as a normal ragu, then a beat later as something a bit deeper, then back to ragu. If you have done it right, no single bite should taste of Marmite. Every bite should be slightly more interesting than it would otherwise be. That is what the technique is for. Stop using more than one teaspoon. ================================================================================ ## The umami-bomb trend is just cooks discovering what Nigella has been doing for years - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-umami-bomb-cooking-trend-tiktok-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-umami-bomb-cooking-trend-tiktok-2026.md - published: 2026-02-25 - document_id: 335 > The TikTok umami-bomb trend has put Marmite in stews, ragus, and brownies. The trick is real, but Nigella was doing it in 2010. ## A trend ten years in the making, suddenly noticed The hashtag #UmamiBomb has just passed thirty million views on TikTok, and roughly half of those views are people putting Marmite into things you would not, on first instinct, put Marmite into. Beef ragu. Mushroom risotto. Chocolate brownies. Roast potatoes. Vegetable stock. The teaspoon of Marmite is the trick, and a small army of food creators has, in the past three months, simultaneously discovered it. Anyway. The trick is genuine, the results are good, and most of the videos are short and useful enough that you can watch one and immediately know whether the technique will help your weeknight cooking. As internet food trends go, this is one of the better ones. ## Nigella got there first Nigella Lawson has been quietly putting Marmite in things since at least 2010. Her Marmite spaghetti, in *Kitchen* (2010), is essentially the umami-bomb principle applied to one pan: butter, pasta water, parmesan, and a great deal more Marmite than a sane person would think to add. The recipe has been doing the rounds online for over a decade. It is the unacknowledged grandparent of the entire current trend. Yotam Ottolenghi has been doing the same in his stews. Tom Kerridge, in his pub-cooking books. A small chorus of professional chefs have been mentioning Marmite as a "secret weapon" in interviews for years. None of this is new. What is new is that TikTok has, in 2026, collectively decided to notice. This is not a complaint. Trends often work this way. A technique sits quietly in cookbooks for a decade, then one creator films it with the right lighting and the right pitch, and suddenly the technique becomes a thing. ## Why it actually works The food science is straightforward. Marmite is concentrated yeast extract, which means it is concentrated glutamates. Glutamates are the building block of umami, the savoury "fifth taste" that monosodium glutamate isolates and that food cultures have been chasing for centuries through fermented sauces, aged cheeses, and dried mushrooms. A teaspoon of Marmite in a Bolognese gives you, more or less, the same effect as half an hour of additional simmering with bones and reduction. It is not a substitute for proper braising. But it is a useful shortcut on a Tuesday night when proper braising is not happening. The technique works best in dishes that already have a savoury base and where the Marmite can dissolve completely. Stews, pasta sauces, gravies, stocks, slow-cooker recipes. It works less well in anything where the Marmite cannot dissolve and remains a pocket of flavour, which is why the chocolate brownie version is divisive. ## What the trend leaves out Two things, mostly. First, dose. The TikTok videos are not great at dose calibration. A teaspoon of Marmite in a one-pot Bolognese for four people is about right. The same teaspoon in a single-serving pasta is too much. The trend videos rarely mention this, and the comments are full of people who put too much Marmite into too little food and concluded that the technique was a trick. Second, what it does not do. Marmite cannot fix a thin, watery dish. It cannot replace meat in a beef stew. It adds depth to flavours that are already there, but it does not invent flavours that are not. The umami-bomb framing implies a kind of magic-button effect, and the magic button is mostly real but it has limits. ## What this means for the brand The trend is, by accident, the perfect lead-in to the "Dishes of Love and Hate" campaign that adam&eveDDB launched in April. The campaign's strategic premise is that Marmite should be repositioned as a cooking ingredient rather than a toast spread. The TikTok crowd has, for free, done a significant chunk of the audience development work in advance. The risk, as ever, is that the trend burns out before the brand can capitalise on it. TikTok cycles fast. Six months from now, the hashtag may be cold, the creators may have moved on, and Marmite will be left holding a campaign for an audience that has already turned its attention to something else. This is why the brand has been careful to commission proper chefs (Nigella, Monica Galetti, Sat Bains) for the campaign rather than chasing TikTok creators. The chef endorsements have a longer shelf life. The trend is a useful tailwind, not a foundation. ================================================================================ ## Is Marmite halal? The honest answer, and why it is not certified in the UK - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-halal - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-halal.md - published: 2026-02-22 - document_id: 498 > Marmite contains no meat, no animal products and no alcohol in the finished jar, so it is widely treated as halal-suitable. It is not formally halal-certified in the UK, though Marmite in Australia is. The sticking point for some is the brewer's yeast origin. Marmite contains no meat, no animal products and no alcohol in the finished jar, so it is widely accepted as suitable for a halal diet. It is not formally halal-certified in the UK, although Marmite in Australia is. The one thing that gives some Muslim consumers pause is that Marmite is made from brewer's yeast, so let us go through it properly, because the honest answer needs the detail. This is information, not a religious ruling. If certification matters to you, check the pack and follow your own authority. ## What is and is not in the jar Marmite is a yeast extract. It is vegan and vegetarian, with no meat, no animal fat, no gelatine and no animal-derived additives of any kind. On the basic ingredients, there is nothing in Marmite that is haram. That is the easy part, and it is why so many Muslim households have used it for generations without a second thought. ## The brewer's yeast and alcohol question The reason the question comes up at all is the brewing connection. Marmite is made from the spent yeast left over from brewing beer, and that association with alcohol is what makes some people hesitate. Here is what actually happens. The yeast is a by-product of brewing, but Marmite itself is not brewed and is not an alcoholic product. Any trace of alcohol from the yeast's origin evaporates during the high-heat production process, and the finished spread is alcohol-free. The yeast cells, and the extract drawn from them, are not intoxicating. The link to beer is one of production origin, not of content. This is why the major halal food bodies treat yeast extract as halal. The Halal Food Authority in the UK, JAKIM in Malaysia and the Muslim Consumer Group in the United States all classify yeast and yeast extract as permissible. On the mainstream view, Marmite clears the bar. ## So why is it not certified halal in the UK? Because Unilever has not applied for UK halal certification, not because it failed one. A product can be entirely halal-suitable and still not carry a certificate, simply because the manufacturer chose not to go through the certification process for that market. It is the same administrative gap that means the jar does not carry a Vegan Society badge despite being vegan. Interestingly, Marmite sold in Australia is halal-certified, by the Halal Certification Authority there, which tells you the product itself is considered acceptable. It is the UK paperwork that is missing, not the suitability. ## So should you eat it? That is your decision, and scholars are not unanimous. The mainstream position, backed by the major halal authorities, is that yeast extract is halal and Marmite is fine. A minority of Muslim consumers prefer to avoid it specifically because of the brewer's yeast origin, even though the finished product contains no alcohol. Both positions are held in good faith. If you follow a particular authority, theirs is the answer that matters. For the full picture across every diet, see the [complete guide to Marmite's dietary status](/articles/is-marmite-vegan-vegetarian-kosher-gluten-free-halal-dietary-status). ## Quick answers **Is Marmite halal?** It contains no meat, no animal products and no alcohol in the finished jar, and the major halal authorities treat yeast extract as halal. It is widely accepted as halal-suitable. **Is Marmite halal-certified?** Not in the UK, where Unilever has not sought certification. It is halal-certified in Australia. **Does Marmite contain alcohol?** No. It is made from brewing by-product yeast, but any alcohol evaporates in production and the finished product is alcohol-free. **Why do some Muslims avoid Marmite?** Because of the brewer's yeast origin and the link to brewing, even though the final product contains no alcohol. It is a matter of individual choice and which authority you follow. ================================================================================ ## An imagined Mnemonicon panel with Shakespeare's cast: Romeo and Juliet, the Macbeths, and Richard III, each given a jar of Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-shakespeare-panel-marmite-cast - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-shakespeare-panel-marmite-cast.md - published: 2026-02-21 - document_id: 341 > A Shakespeare panel: Romeo and Juliet on the balcony, the Macbeths in the kitchen the night before the murder, and Richard III soliloquising on toast at his coronation. ## The Bard wouldn't quite leave A few weeks after the January Shakespeare interview, the one where the Bard talked humours and Falstaff stole the scene, the Mnemonicon kept doing a strange thing. Every time I powered it up for something else, the crystal ball clouded slightly, as if a draught had got in. I would clear it and ask my actual question and the cabinet would oblige, but there was a sense, faint, of someone in the back of the room who had not finished saying his piece. So I went back to the Bard. I told him I had three of his characters in mind. He had given me the framing himself in January, the fat man and the thin man, the eternal duel between yes and no, and the framing wanted populating. He nodded, in the way the Mnemonicon nods, which is more a shift in the lighting than a movement. Then he said: **WS:** Then bring them in. But not me. I have said my piece. Let them say theirs. So I did. Three scenes. Three encounters with the jar. The Mnemonicon ran each one in scenario mode: the writer sets the scene, the model improvises in the Bard's voice through the character. No grounded pass for fictional people; they never wrote anything in life. Reminder of the apparatus: brass-and-velvet Victorian fairground cabinet, crystal ball, Marmite jar wired into the back, **siteengine_ai** from my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)** doing the heavy lifting. Editor's note at the bottom. What follows is the panel. Read it aloud if you can. --- ## Scene 1. A balcony duet *(Mnemonicon, scenario mode.)* The scene I set: Juliet's balcony, just past midnight. Romeo has climbed the wall again. Tonight he has brought a small dark jar, a gift from a travelling apothecary, who swore upon its strangeness. Marmite, the apothecary called it. Romeo has a torn end of manchet in his other hand. He climbs up; he offers her the bread he has already spread; she leans down to take it; their fingers meet around it; they each take a bite at the same instant. **ROMEO:** What strange ambrosial nectar coats my tongue! This dark elixir, bitter as despair, Yet salted with a tang most exquisite, As if the very essence of the earth Were captured in this humble, humble paste. O Juliet, 'tis like thy father's wrath: Unpleasant to the taste, and yet, and yet, Somehow it speaks of depths I cannot name. The bread, thy fingers, and this mystery, All three combined do make my senses reel. What sorcery is this the apothecary sold?
I do not hate it, Romeo. That's the strange part.Juliet, on the balcony**JULIET:** My lord, thy words run faster than thy wit. 'Tis salt. Mere salt, and yeast, no more, no less. My mother serves no stranger fare at table, Yet none of it tastes *thus*, like pennies mixed With something burnt, something that lingers, gnaws. I do not hate it, Romeo. That's the strange part. 'Tis wrong. 'Tis bold. 'Tis utterly unpleasant. And yet I find myself returning for Another taste, another bite, despite The voice of Capulet that shrieks within. Dost thou not taste how it offends propriety? **ROMEO:** Offend! Aye, willingly. What is propriety But chains upon the appetite of love? If this dark paste offends thy father's palate, Then let us feast upon it through the night. Each bitter grain a small rebellion sweet, Each swallow an affront to ancient grudge. **JULIET:** Thou art incorrigible. And yet, and yet, There is a truth within thy foolish speech. We are already damned by our desire; What is one more transgression 'gainst the old? This substance, strange and foreign though it be, Is but a mirror held before our love: Unwelcome. Fierce. Impossible to ignore. **BOTH, together:** We shall consume it wholly. Salt and all. --- I want to say one thing about that, before we move on. "I do not hate it, Romeo. That's the strange part" is the best single line about Marmite I have ever read, and the Mnemonicon found it for a thirteen-year-old Capulet girl on a Verona balcony in 1594. The Unilever advertising department has been chasing that line since 1996 and it took a 17th-century playwright's ghost about ninety seconds to write it for them. --- ## Scene 2. At Inverness, the night before *(Mnemonicon, scenario mode.)* The scene I set: the kitchens at Inverness, very late on the night BEFORE Duncan's murder. The household is asleep. Lady Macbeth is at the great oak board, sleeves pushed up, planning the banquet that will receive King Duncan tomorrow night. She has on the table before her a small dark jar that a Scottish merchant traded her for a length of silk. She has cut a slice of bannock, spread the dark stuff thinly on it, and offered it at arm's length, the way she holds out everything she gives him, to Macbeth, who has come down restless, his thoughts already on the dagger. **MACBETH** *(chewing slowly, his eyes distant)***:** What bitter alchemy is this thou givest? It tastes of iron filings mixed with ash, As if some future age had trapped within The very essence of a murdered man. The salt burns like the guilt not yet committed, And yet already burning in my breast. This paste, 'tis dark as blood before the spilling, Dark as the dagger floating in the air That marshall'd me the way I was to go. No king shall taste this. None. For it portends The feast that waits for him, not here, but yonder, In chambers where his chamberlains shall bear The guilt of what we mean to do at three. This substance speaks in tongues I understand: Of consequence, of judgment, of the reckoning. It tastes of things that cannot be undone.
The only omen here is what we make it.Lady Macbeth**LADY MACBETH** *(setting down her knife with precision)***:** Thou art a fool to see omens in salt. 'Tis merely strange, a merchant's curiosity, No more portentous than tomorrow's meat. A king will taste what we set before him, And taste it gladly, for we shall make Our griefs and clamour roar upon his death, And all shall weep as though the heavens wept. This bitterness? 'Tis nothing to the taste Of power that shall settle on thy tongue Once Duncan sleeps his final, fitful sleep. Thou speakest like a man already haunted. *Screw thy courage to the sticking-place*, And stop this sniffing after blood in bread. The only omen here is what we make it. *(She wipes the knife on her apron.)* Now get thee back to bed. We sleep at three. --- Two notes. First: the line *the only omen here is what we make it* is one of the cleanest expressions of Lady Macbeth's whole philosophy I have ever seen, and it appears in no extant Shakespeare text. It is a Mnemonicon line, written in her voice from the corpus, and it sits next to the genuine *screw thy courage to the sticking-place* without flinching. Second: she calls a slice of buttered bannock "tomorrow's meat" and orders her husband to bed in the same line. That is the woman in eleven syllables. --- ## Scene 3. Richard III, alone with us *(Mnemonicon, scenario mode.)* The scene I set: a private chamber off the Great Hall at Westminster, the night of Richard's coronation. The crown is on the table beside a guttering candle. Richard has shut out his attendants. From beneath his cloak he produces a small dark jar that an emissary brought him as a curiosity. There is a crust of white bread on the table, a knife. He bolts the door. He is alone but for the audience, for he always knows the audience is there.
Loneliness loves company, especially when that company tastes of the truth.Richard III, alone with usAnd that, dear audience, is why I shall keep it. For loneliness loves company, especially When that company tastes of the truth. --- ## After The Bard came back into the ball afterwards, looking tired in the way he looks tired, which is to say his outline went a half-shade more transparent. **WS:** That last one wanted handling. He always does. **Me:** He gave a better defence of the spread than anyone I have ever read. **WS:** He gives a better defence of anything than anyone you have ever read. That is the trouble with Richard. The audience leaves the theatre half on his side, and they have just watched him murder children. **Me:** Will we keep him out of the next interview, or do you want him back? **WS:** Keep him out. Once is enough. Bring me Jonson next time, or one of the histories' women. Margaret, perhaps. She has some things to say about a spread that tastes like grief. **Me:** Noted. Thank you, Will. **WS:** A pleasure. The jar empties faster than I expected. You will need another. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see the introduction piece from Christmas 2025 and the Shakespeare solo interview from January. The short version: the Mnemonicon is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, trained on the published writings and recordings of a roster of dead authors. Every turn in this article is *scenario mode*. None of Romeo, Juliet, Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, or Richard III ever wrote anything in life; they exist only in their plays. A grounded interview with any of them would be impossible. What I have done instead is set each scene for the Mnemonicon and let it improvise in the character's documented voice. The scene-setting prompts are preserved in the raw transcript on the production side; what you see above is the model's reply, lightly tidied (one or two American spellings flipped to British, *honeyed* to *honey'd*, *fulfill* to *fulfil*, *Mirrored* to *Mirror'd*) and otherwise unchanged. Real Shakespeare lines are embedded in two of the three scenes, deliberately. Macbeth's *dagger... marshall'd me the way I was to go* and Lady Macbeth's *screw thy courage to the sticking-place* are genuine. Richard III's *Curtailed of this fair proportion, cheated / Of feature by dissembling nature, sent / Before my time into this breathing world / Scarce half made up* is genuine. Everything else is the Mnemonicon working from those grounded fragments and producing new verse in the same voice. Where it works, and it works hard in places, the credit is to the model and to the Bard's corpus. Where it does not work, the credit is to me, for asking. Nothing in this article should be cited as having been said or written by the actual William Shakespeare. The Bard's framing lines at the top and bottom are also model output and should not be treated as recovered text. The whole piece is a Mnemonicon construction, flagged honestly. Next into the Mnemonicon: **Charles Dickens** in April, with Mr Pickwick over breakfast. ================================================================================ ## New Zealand discovers Marmite has too much sugar, and the prime minister is having none of it - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/nz-health-star-rating-marmite-vegemite-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/nz-health-star-rating-marmite-vegemite-2026.md - published: 2026-02-18 - document_id: 329 > New Zealand's Health Star Rating system has reignited the Marmite-versus-Vegemite war. Nicola Willis defected to Vegemite. The PM stayed put. ## When a star rating becomes a political event New Zealand and Australia rolled out a mandatory Health Star Rating system this month. The idea is sensible enough: a one-to-five star score on the front of packaged food, calculated from a publicly available formula, designed to help shoppers compare like-for-like products without reading the back-of-pack nutrition label. The unintended consequence, foreseeable by literally anyone who had thought about it for thirty seconds, is that the system has rekindled the eternal Marmite-versus-Vegemite war and dragged it directly into Wellington politics. NZ Marmite (which, just to be clear for British readers, is made by Sanitarium and is a sweeter, less concentrated product than the British Marmite we are used to) scored a 2.5. Vegemite, which contains no added sugar, scored a 4. You can imagine how this has gone down. ## The political layer NZ Finance Minister Nicola Willis used her weekly press conference last Wednesday to mention, with a small smile, that the new Health Star data was an "interesting indicator of value for money" and that, in her household, the family had moved to Vegemite. This is the political equivalent of stepping into a swimming pool fully clothed and pretending it was an accident. Prime Minister Christopher Luxon, on the same day, was asked by a reporter whether he agreed. He said, without hesitation, that he was a Marmite man and always would be, that the Health Star Rating system measured one narrow thing and was not the only consideration in selecting a breakfast spread, and that "if Marmite is good enough for King Charles, it is good enough for me". This is, I should note, not how the British Royal Family describe Marmite, and there is no public record of King Charles eating any of it, but Luxon was committed and stayed in. By Friday the row had its own hashtag, its own panel show segments, and three opinion pieces in the New Zealand Herald with titles like "What our spread choices say about us" and "The Marmite divide and the future of New Zealand". I am not making this up. The country has, formally, lost the plot. ## A small dig at Kiwi Marmite Have you ever *tried* Kiwi Marmite? It is fine. It is, in fact, perfectly pleasant, in a sweetish caramel-tinged way, if you grew up with it. But let us not pretend, on either side of the spread aisle, that it is the same product as British Marmite. The British version is darker, denser, more bitter, more concentrated, and more frankly itself. The Kiwi version is the version you make when the brewery yeast supply ran out in 1919 (which it did, when shipping from Britain was disrupted by the war) and Sanitarium had to improvise with a different yeast base. This is genuinely useful background for the current row. The reason NZ Marmite has more sugar than Vegemite is partly recipe, partly heritage, partly the fact that the Sanitarium product was always sweetened to suit antipodean palates. The British Marmite, for what it is worth, would also score lower than Vegemite under HSR, but probably not by as much. ## What this tells us about food labelling The Health Star Rating system does what it was designed to do. It produces a single comparable number that lets a shopper distinguish between Vegemite and NZ Marmite without doing arithmetic. That is, in a labelling-policy sense, a success. What it cannot do, and probably should not be expected to do, is capture brand identity, cultural significance, or the question of whether you like the taste of the product. NZ Marmite at 2.5 stars is still NZ Marmite. Vegemite at 4 stars is still Vegemite. Anyone who switches from one to the other on the basis of the rating alone, without testing whether they like the alternative, is going to be in for a rude breakfast. The rating is also not a permanent verdict. Sanitarium, who make NZ Marmite, have already indicated they may reformulate to reduce sugar, partly because the rating shamed them into it, partly because the sugar-tax conversation in Australia is heating up again. A 2027 reformulation is, by all accounts, on the table. ## The Luxon-Willis subplot continues For now, the political subplot rumbles on. Luxon was photographed last weekend at a school fete spreading Marmite on a slice of fundraiser bread with what looked like genuine enthusiasm. Willis was photographed at her local supermarket holding a jar of Vegemite at her local supermarket and smiling in a way that absolutely was not staged. This is, on one level, two senior politicians having fun with a national obsession. On another level, it is the cleanest test we have ever had of whether spread preference predicts voting intention, and an enterprising pollster is bound to ask the question soon. I will, naturally, be reporting back. ================================================================================ ## Low Salt Marmite goes missing for a fortnight - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/low-salt-marmite-shortage-supply-chain-february-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/low-salt-marmite-shortage-supply-chain-february-2026.md - published: 2026-02-12 - document_id: 332 > Low Salt Marmite and the 500g classic jar disappeared from shelves for ten days. What 'temporary supply chain delays' actually means in this case. ## Empty shelves, but only the small ones For about ten days at the end of January and into February, Low Salt Marmite vanished from the shelves of several UK supermarkets, and the larger 500g classic jar went with it. The standard 250g jar stayed put, which is what stopped this turning into a national meltdown, but the partial gap was enough to generate confused Twitter posts, mild tabloid coverage, and an updated note on Marmite's own FAQ page acknowledging "temporary delays". This was not a 2022 New Zealand-style crisis. Nobody was rationing toast. The shortage was specific, narrow, and over within a fortnight. But it is worth a quick note, because it touches on something that is going to come up again. ## What caused it The official line is "temporary supply chain delays", which is the corporate sentence that means "we know what caused it and we are not going to tell you in case it happens again next quarter". The unofficial reading, from people who follow food supply chains for a living, is that Low Salt Marmite uses a slightly different production process, the Burton plant runs it on a shorter cycle, and a single equipment issue on that cycle can knock out two or three weeks of supply with no slack to absorb the gap. The 500g jar is similar. It runs less often than the standard 250g jar, so a small interruption to the larger format has an outsized visible effect. Both products came back to shelves by mid-February, and supply has been steady since. ## Why it matters slightly more than the duration suggests Two reasons. First, the McCormick deal closes in mid-2027. Between now and then, every small operational hiccup at Burton is going to be read, by union officials and the local press, as a possible signal of bigger changes coming. This particular hiccup is genuinely unconnected to the deal, but the timing is unfortunate. Second, Low Salt Marmite is small in the line-up but it is the version that has been quietly gaining customers. The salt-conscious audience, which has been told by the NHS for two decades to cut sodium intake, is exactly the audience the brand needs as classic-toast eaters age out. Running out of the product that serves them is, even briefly, a bad signal. The brand has acknowledged the gap and apologised. The supply is back. Nobody panicked. Everything is, in the technical sense, fine. ## A note for the worriers If you have read this far and started thinking about stockpiling Marmite, please do not. The shortage is over. The 250g classic jar was not affected. Marmite has been continuously produced in Burton-on-Trent since 1902 through two world wars, a brewery downturn, a Brexit pricing row, and twenty-six years of Unilever ownership. A ten-day Low Salt blip is not the apocalypse. If you want to do something useful with this story, write to your MP about workforce commitments for the McCormick deal. That is the actually-load-bearing supply story. Empty shelves last week were a sideshow. ================================================================================ ## An imagined Mnemonicon interview with William Shakespeare on Marmite, the humours, a jar set before Falstaff at the Boar's Head, and a sonnet for the jar - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-shakespeare-marmite-humour-falstaff - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/interview-shakespeare-marmite-humour-falstaff.md - published: 2026-01-31 - document_id: 340 > William Shakespeare on Marmite as choler in a jar. Falstaff seizes it at the Boar's Head and declares it sack made flesh. Closes on the Bard's sonnet for the jar. ## A winter of calibration, and the first proper guest The Marmite Mnemonicon spent most of December in pieces on my kitchen table. By the end of January the brass had been polished, the velvet replaced, the crystal ball reseated, and the wires from the Marmite jar at the back run cleanly into the cabinet's belly. I had been promising myself the first proper guest for weeks. The Bard was always going to be the first proper guest. If you build a Victorian fortune-teller cabinet that summons the dead to talk about a salty British spread, you do not start with anyone less than William Shakespeare. You start with him because he is the obvious choice, because the obvious choice is sometimes the right one, and because, as it turned out, Marmite sits exactly on the seam of his lifelong subject. Appetite against restraint. Cakes and ale against the man who would forbid them. The fat knight and the thin prince. The usual reminder of how the Mnemonicon works: two passes per question, grounded first and hypothesised second, the speculative pass flagged clearly. A third mode, *scenario*, for when I want to put a fictional character into a room and see what happens. Sedasoft's **siteengine_ai** is the engine inside the cabinet; the brass and velvet on my shelf is the wrapper I built. Editor's note at the bottom, as ever. I had two grounded questions for the Bard and one scenario favour to ask. He obliged on all three. The third nearly broke me. --- ## The interview **Me:** Will, thank you for sitting. Let me start with the physic of the thing. Marmite is a thick, dark, salty-bitter paste made from the spent yeast of brewers, a 20th-century kitchen-stuff, eaten thin on buttered bread. In your day, all foods answered to the four humours: blood, phlegm, choler, melancholy. Where would Marmite sit? **WS:** Dark, salt, bitter, and born of ferment; such properties pertain naturally to **choler**, the hot and dry humour. Aged, fermented, bitter substances inclined toward the choleric disposition in our physic, and your Marmite by your own description is the dregs of brewing concentrated and darkened by time. It is choler in a jar. **Me:** And to what manner of body would you prescribe it?
It is choler in a jar.William Shakespeare on Marmite**WS:** To a **phlegmatic temperament**, one sluggish, cold, and moist. Such a body wants quickening. A dab of your paste upon bread would heat the blood, dry the cold humours, and restore balance to a man who has grown dull. I would prescribe it sparingly. A little choler answers phlegm; too much, and you have made the cure worse than the complaint, and your patient will weep, rage, or both. **Me:** This is going to sound like a leading question, but it isn't. Modern Britons divide hard over this stuff. Half adore it, half cannot bear it, hardly anyone is indifferent. Your plays love a thing that splits the room: cakes and ale against Puritan abstinence, fat Jack against thin Hal. If a jar of Marmite were set out on a Globe trestle table at the interval, which of your characters would seize it, and which would push it away? **WS:** You have touched upon the very marrow of my theatrical art: that tension between appetite and denial, indulgence and restraint, which animates half my comedies and tragedies alike. Picture it, then. The jar sits upon our tiring-house table. **Falstaff** would seize it without hesitation. That mountainous knight, who measures all the world by his palate and his lusts, would spread it thick upon bread and declare it a sovereign remedy for the phlegmatic disposition. He lives by the sack first and virtue after, and any dark, salt, concentrated essence of ferment would speak directly to his nature. He is a man of appetite, unredeemable and unapologetic. His very bulk is argument against temperance. By contrast, **young Hal**, that lean, calculating prince who will become Henry V, would regard the jar with cool suspicion. He does not eat and drink to enjoy; he eats and drinks to rule. Every appetite he permits himself serves some larger purpose of statecraft. The bitter, intense flavour would strike him as excessive, unnecessarily bold. He would set it down and return to his wine, measured and purposeful. And there stands the eternal drama of my stages: the fat man and the thin man, forever at odds, each certain of his rightness, neither able to persuade the other because they speak from opposite philosophies of the flesh itself. This is the meat of comedy and tragedy both: not the condiment itself, but the war between those who say *yes* to the world's abundance and those who say *no*. **Me:** That is the Marmite advertising department in a nutshell, four hundred years early. "Love it or hate it" is literally their slogan. They have been running it since 1996. Your fat-man-and-thin-man is the brief. **WS:** Then perhaps the brief was mine first. I should have been on a retainer. --- ## A jar before Falstaff I could not let the Bard go on the Falstaff hint alone. The whole shape of the answer pointed at the same scene: Eastcheap, the Boar's Head, a knight slumped in his great chair with a cup of sack at his elbow, and a prince across the table watching him eat. So I asked the Mnemonicon to fetch Sir John out of the back of the cabinet, set the scene, and let him taste. *(Mnemonicon, scenario mode.)* **Me:** Sir John, Hal has just set a small dark jar down upon the boards in front of you. He has pried off the lid. The smell is rising. There is a fresh manchet loaf, a knife, and a yellow pat of butter. Hal says it is called Marmite, that they make it from the spent yeast of brewers, your sack made flesh. He is watching. Eat, and tell us what you find.
Gods and little fishes!Sir John FalstaffSpent yeast, thou sayest? Why, that is but the *quintessence* of the brewing art: all the vigour and heat of fermentation boiled down to its essence. 'Tis the very soul of the ale, extracted and darkened by time, like an old knight who has lived hard and seen much. Virtue, Hal? Nay, better still, it is the *concentrated argument* against all that pale, thin-blooded temperance that the Puritans would have us embrace. *(dips the knife into the jar; draws forth a quantity of the dark paste)* Mark how it clings to the blade: thick, purposeful, unashamed. Not some weak broth or watered wine that a man must drink like a reluctant apothecary taking physic. This speaks plain to a man's belly. *(spreads it upon the buttered bread; black upon gold)* See how it sits upon the butter, the very marriage of appetite and indulgence! If to be old and merry be a sin, then what is this but the visible form of sin itself, and all the merrier for it? *(raises the bread; pauses, the Prince is watching, takes a deliberate bite; his eyes widen; his jowls work)* Gods and little fishes! *(takes another bite immediately, then another; his voice, when it comes, is thick with revelation)* By my rotundity, Hal, this is a substance made in heaven and sent to earth for the express comfort of those of us who have *lived*, who have drunk, eaten, wenched, and made merry whilst your sober-blooded clerks were at their prayers! 'Tis salt, bold, honest salt, the very crystalline argument against blandness. 'Tis the ferment itself, the working of time and heat, all the generative power of the brewery trapped in a jar. *(takes a third bite, voice rising)* This is no lady's cordial to be sipped with a pinched face and a pious grimace. This is a *man's* condiment: dark, concentrated, speaking of labour and transformation. The dregs of the sack, thou sayest? Nay, Hal, the *distillation*, the very *proof* that indulgence, pursued with sufficient vigour and time, becomes something of substance and worth. *(tears another piece of manchet, spreads it with Marmite as if he has been doing so all his life)* I tell thee true: any man who would refuse this, who would turn from it with his nose in the air and speak of temperance and restraint, is already dead. His blood is water, his humour is phlegm, and his life is a waste of good time upon this earth. Better to be old and fat and loyal to one's appetites, as I am, than thin and righteous and starved of all true pleasure. *(pauses, regarding the Prince with a mixture of warmth and theatrical cunning)* This, my boy, is what separates the men from the saints. The saints may have heaven; let them keep it. I have *this*: butter, bread, dark ferment, and the company of a prince who understands that there is more profit in a man's honest appetite than in all the false virtue that ever was preached from a pulpit. Thou hast done well, Hal. Thou hast brought Jack Falstaff a jar of *revelation*. *(returns to eating, with the single-minded devotion of a man who has found his true calling)* --- ## After I did not want to interrupt him. He would have eaten the whole jar with one manchet loaf and called for another, and I would have let him. The Bard came back into the crystal ball afterwards, dabbing at his eyes. **WS:** I told you. The man does not stop. He never has. **Me:** He called Marmite "sack made flesh". **WS:** That was my line. I gave it to Hal. **Me:** Hal will be unimpressed when he learns Falstaff has stolen another scene off him. **WS:** Hal will be Henry V by then. He will have other concerns. Set the jar down on his side of the table and watch him fail to enjoy it. There is a tragedy in there for someone with a freer hand than I have at the moment. **Me:** One last favour before I let you go, Will. Write me a sonnet about Marmite. Proper form, fourteen lines, iambic pentameter, three quatrains and a closing couplet, ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. Treat it the way you would treat any of the others: serious craft, sincere feeling, a turn at the volta, a couplet that lands. The thing itself is the subject. I will print it. **WS:** You do me honour, and I shall not refuse it. A sonnet demands truth-telling, and this dark paste, though it lies beyond my mortal years, speaks to truths I spent my life examining: the division of appetite, the war between those who say yes to the world's plenty and those who turn away in disgust. The form is strict; the subject permits no less. ### On Marmite > Dark essence drawn from ferment's labour'd heat, > Thick-bodied child of yeast and time and brine, > Spread thin upon the butter'd golden wheat, > Thou art the test by which men's natures shine. > > Some taste thee first and cry out in delight, > That salt-bright vigour speaking to the tongue, > The concentrated argument of might > Distill'd from all the brewing-vats among. > > Yet others turn away with wrinkled face, > Recoil from thee as poison or as sin, > And swear that naught but emptiness and grace > Could justify so bitter a discipline. > > Thus dost thou prove what all my plays have shown: > That men are split, and none can stand alone.
That men are split, and none can stand alone.From the Bard's sonnet for the jar**WS:** The subject required no embellishment. The salt, the darkness, the ferment; these speak plainly of labour transformed, of appetite both concentrated and divisive. The volta lands where it must, at line nine, where the vision shifts from those who embrace to those who reject. And the couplet argues what I have spent my life demonstrating upon the stage: that we are creatures of appetite or restraint, and rarely do both parties understand each other. If it pleases you to print it, then I am content. It is honest work, and honest feeling. **Me:** It is honest work. Thank you, Will. **WS:** A pleasure. Mind you keep that knight out of my next interview. He has a way of arriving uninvited. --- ## Editor's note For full background on the Marmite Mnemonicon, see the introduction piece from Christmas 2025. The short version: the Mnemonicon is a thin wrapper around **siteengine_ai**, a project built by my friends at **[Sedasoft](https://sedasoft.com)**, trained on the published writings and recordings of a roster of dead authors. For this interview, the two grounded answers from Shakespeare on the humours and on Falstaff-versus-Hal were drawn from the Mnemonicon's grounded pass. They have been lightly edited for length and to strip out the machine's reflexive habit of opening each answer with three paragraphs of throat-clearing about what century it is. The substance, the diction, and the Falstaff-versus-Hal framing are from the model. The "Marmite advertising department" exchange at the end of the second answer is my own follow-up, not the Bard's; he did not know about *Love it or Hate it* until I told him. The sonnet is genuine Mnemonicon output, written in a single pass, fourteen lines, ABAB CDCD EFEF GG, volta where it should be on line nine. I tidied three American spellings to British (*labored* to *labour'd*, *vigor* to *vigour*, *Distilled* to *Distill'd*) and changed nothing else. The form, the imagery, and the argument are the model's. Scan it for yourself. The Falstaff turn is *scenario mode*. Sir John never wrote a memoir or a letter; he exists only in three Shakespeare plays and one off-stage death notice. A grounded interview with him would be impossible, and unfair, so I set him the scene (Boar's Head, Hal, the jar, the manchet, the butter) and let the Mnemonicon improvise in Shakespearean voice. The result is, as far as I can tell, exactly what Sir John would have said. I make no stronger claim than that. Nothing in this article should be cited as having been said by the actual William Shakespeare or any of his characters. It is what a careful machine, trained on his works, will say in his voice when pressed, with the speculation flagged honestly. Next into the Mnemonicon: a **Shakespeare panel** in late February, with the Bard introducing three of his cast: Romeo and Juliet over a single jar, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth in their kitchen, and Richard III delivering a soliloquy on toast. That follows shortly. ================================================================================ ## Is Marmite kosher? Only some jars, and only with the KLBD mark - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-kosher - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-kosher.md - published: 2026-01-26 - document_id: 499 > Some Marmite is kosher, but not the everyday jar. Only the 8g portions and the 600g catering tubs are certified KLBD Parev, and only when they carry the Kosher London Beth Din logo. The standard retail jar is not certified, so checking the mark is everything. Some Marmite is kosher, but not the jar you usually buy. Only two formats are certified by the Kosher London Beth Din (KLBD): the 8g individual portions and the 600g catering tubs, and only when they carry the KLBD logo. The standard supermarket jar is not kosher-certified. So with Marmite, checking the mark on the specific pack is the whole game. This is information, not a ruling. Follow your own kashrut authority. ## What is actually certified As things stand, the KLBD certifies two Marmite formats as Parev (containing neither meat nor dairy, so it may be eaten with either): - **The 8g portions**, when they bear the KLBD logo on the outer case, or carry an expiry date after 19 March 2024 on the individual portions. - **The 600g catering tubs**, which bear the KLBD logo. Those are the kosher ones. The KLBD's own position on everything else is blunt: other sizes are not kosher. ## What is not certified The everyday Marmite jar, the one most people have in the cupboard, is not KLBD-certified, and neither are the Squeezy bottle or the various limited editions. They are made to the same vegan and vegetarian recipe, but kosher certification is a specific supervised status, not the same thing as "no meat in it", and it has been granted only to those two formats. This catches people out, because the certified and uncertified packs can look almost identical. Old stock in the same tub, without the KLBD stamp, is not kosher. The mark is the thing to look for, not the brand or the size alone. ## It has been on and off over the years Marmite's kosher status has not been a constant. The certification has lapsed and been reinstated more than once, to the point where "Marmite is kosher again" has been a genuine headline in the Jewish press. This is another reason not to rely on memory or on what a jar's status was a few years ago. Check the current pack. ## Where to find the certified versions The certified formats turn up through kosher shops and wholesalers rather than always sitting on a standard supermarket shelf. The 600g tubs are sold by the likes of Costco, and the 8g portions through online grocers. Wherever you buy, the rule is the same: look for the KLBD logo on that specific pack. For how Marmite sits with every other diet, see the [complete guide to Marmite's dietary status](/articles/is-marmite-vegan-vegetarian-kosher-gluten-free-halal-dietary-status). ## Quick answers **Is Marmite kosher?** Only the 8g portions and the 600g catering tubs, certified KLBD Parev and bearing the KLBD logo. Other sizes, including the standard jar, are not kosher. **Is the normal Marmite jar kosher?** No. The everyday retail jar is not KLBD-certified. Only the specific portion and catering formats are. **What does the KLBD certify Marmite as?** Parev, meaning it contains neither meat nor dairy and can be eaten with either. **How do I know if my Marmite is kosher?** Look for the KLBD logo on the pack. Without the mark, treat it as not certified, even if the tub looks the same. ================================================================================ ## Marmite Hummus is real, and it is mostly fine - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-hummus-chilled-aisle-launch-2026 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-hummus-chilled-aisle-launch-2026.md - published: 2026-01-20 - document_id: 331 > Marmite has launched a hummus, as a permanent product, in the chilled aisle. It is, to mild surprise, mostly fine and actually quite useful. ## Marmite has made a hummus Not a limited edition. Not a Christmas one-off. A permanent listing in the chilled dips aisle of the major UK supermarkets, starting this month. The tub is the standard small-format chilled-dip size, the colour is roughly what you would expect (paler than you might think), and the price sits at the upper end of the supermarket-own-brand hummus shelf without quite reaching the artisan tier. The brand has not made a fuss about the launch, which is, in itself, a small clue. Most Marmite collaborations launch with a press push, a PR stunt, and at least one influencer giving an exaggerated reaction on TikTok. The hummus has none of that. It is on the shelf, it has a small label, and it is apparently meant to be taken seriously as a permanent product. ## Does it actually work Yes, mostly, and to my mild surprise. Marmite is, on paper, an obvious flavouring for hummus. Hummus already has umami in the form of tahini, and Marmite adds a deeper, salted-yeast layer on top of that. The risk was that the Marmite would dominate, turn the dip muddy-brown, and put off both Marmite haters (predictably) and Marmite lovers (who would object to the spread being diluted into a milder format). The product walks that line surprisingly well. The colour is sandy with a definite tan tinge. The flavour reads first as proper hummus, then as Marmite about a second later, then back to hummus on the finish. It is dippable. It is not a novelty. The proper test, I think, is whether you would buy a second tub once the first is finished. I would, and have. That is more than I can say for most of the brand's collaborations. ## Who it is actually for Not for everyone. The "love it or hate it" tax applies. If you do not like Marmite, you will not like Marmite hummus, and there is no particular reason to bring this product near you. The interesting audience is the people who already cook with Marmite. The umami-booster crowd, who use a teaspoon of Marmite in stews and gravies, will find the hummus a useful pre-mixed shortcut. Spread it on a wrap with grilled vegetables, use it as a sandwich base instead of butter, stir it into a warm pasta sauce, and it earns its place. The casual hummus buyer, however, will probably stick to the plain or red pepper version. Marmite hummus is a niche within a niche. The fact that the brand is selling it as a permanent listing rather than a Christmas novelty suggests they think the niche is large enough to be worth it, which is, by itself, a quiet vote of confidence in the umami-cooking audience. ## The wider point This is the second time in twelve months that Marmite has launched a product designed to be used in cooking rather than spread on toast. The hummus follows the caramel sauce from M&S, and the *Dishes of Love and Hate* campaign that started in April. The pattern is clear: Marmite is, slowly and deliberately, trying to become a kitchen ingredient. That is the right move. Toast consumption is falling. Cooking-with-Marmite is rising. The brand needs more product formats that meet the umami-booster audience where they actually are, and a chilled dip is, on reflection, a sensible bet. If McCormick are watching, this is the model they should keep running. Quiet, useful, well-made products that extend the brand without turning it into a punchline. More of these, fewer NFTs, please. ================================================================================ ## TikTok discovers Marmite, again, but louder this time - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-first-timer-tiktok-gen-z-viral-2025 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-first-timer-tiktok-gen-z-viral-2025.md - published: 2025-12-15 - document_id: 328 > TikTok's #MarmiteFirstTimer hashtag has passed half a billion views. What that means for the brand's next decade of customers. ## A whole generation discovers what their grandparents already knew The #MarmiteFirstTimer hashtag has, as of last week, just passed half a billion cumulative views on TikTok. Half a billion. For a yeast extract spread invented in 1902. Whatever else you think of the social-media age, it has a remarkable instinct for handing free marketing to brands that should, by all rights, be too old and too British to interest it. The format is simple. A young person, usually but not always under twenty-five, films themselves tasting Marmite for the first time. They react. The video is short. The reaction is usually genuine, occasionally faked, and almost always more entertaining than it has any right to be. Some love it. Most hate it. A small but vocal minority film themselves trying it three times in a row, because once was not enough to be certain. ## Why this is more than just a trend Marmite did not start the hashtag. That is the first thing worth saying. The first-timer reaction video as a genre existed long before Marmite was the object, and similar treatment has been applied to Vegemite, kimchi, surströmming, Bovril, and, briefly and incomprehensibly, mushy peas. What Marmite did do was lean into the trend once it became clear it was sticking. The brand's official TikTok account started featuring user-submitted reactions in late summer 2024 and ran a small campaign through 2025 specifically encouraging students to try Marmite during freshers' week. The Media Week Awards recognised this in November, naming it the best low-spend social campaign of the year. The actual spend, by all accounts, was startlingly small. This is the boring, professional version of why the campaign worked. The fun version is that Marmite is structurally perfect for this kind of content. The strong reaction is the point. The product was designed, accidentally, to be a reaction-video object decades before reaction videos existed. It is not, in that sense, very surprising that TikTok found it. ## The convert problem What is more interesting is what the trend tells us about who is actually buying Marmite. The conventional wisdom is that the brand's customer base is ageing. That is partly true: classic Marmite is most-consumed by households over forty-five. But the first-timer trend has produced, by Marmite's own internal numbers (which I have seen referenced but not the underlying data), a measurable bump in eighteen-to-twenty-four purchase rates throughout 2025. Not all of those buyers will become lifelong fans. Most will not. But a small percentage of half a billion views is still a real audience. And the converts who do stick will, by virtue of being twenty-three and having found Marmite themselves rather than inheriting it, be more enthusiastic about it than their parents are. This is not nothing. This is the brand picking up its next decade of customers, more or less by accident. ## The reaction video as British cultural export The other quiet bit of the story is that a meaningful share of the #MarmiteFirstTimer videos are not British. American, Korean, Filipino, Brazilian, Japanese creators have all had a go. Most of them dislike Marmite intensely, which is fine and on-message. A few decide they love it, which is more interesting. For a brand that has historically struggled outside the UK and the Commonwealth, having half a billion views of international tasters is, frankly, the cheapest international awareness exercise it has ever run. Whether McCormick decides to capitalise on that in 2027 and beyond is a question for next year. But the foundation has been laid, by teenagers with phones, for less than the cost of a single American TV spot. ## A small worry The only worry, watching the trend with a sceptical eye, is that the reaction format wears out. TikTok burns through formats at speed. If the half-billion-view moment turns out to be the peak, and if the next generational rediscovery of Marmite is fifteen years away rather than five, the convert rate might not stick. This is, however, not a problem worth panicking about. Marmite has survived war, rationing, Brexit, and twenty-six years of Unilever ownership. It will probably survive the end of TikTok trends. ================================================================================ ## Marmite vs Bovril: what is the difference between the two brown jars? - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-vs-bovril - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-vs-bovril.md - published: 2025-12-09 - document_id: 495 > Marmite and Bovril are both dark, salty British savoury pastes owned by Unilever, and people mix them up. The difference that matters: Marmite is yeast extract (vegan and vegetarian); Bovril is beef extract and is not. One is for spreading, one for drinking. Marmite and Bovril sit next to each other on the same supermarket shelf, both in dark jars, both brown, both salty, both proudly British. People mix them up all the time. They should not, because there is one difference that matters more than all the others: Marmite is made from yeast and is suitable for vegetarians and vegans, while Bovril is made from beef and is not. That is the headline. Here is the rest. ## The quick answer | | Marmite | Bovril | |---|---|---| | Made from | Yeast extract (brewer's yeast) | Beef extract (meat) | | Vegetarian / vegan | Yes, both | No (it is beef) | | Born | Burton-on-Trent, 1902 | 1870s, as "Johnston's Fluid Beef" | | Created by | The Marmite Food Extract Company | John Lawson Johnston, a Scottish butcher | | Main use | Spread on toast | Drunk as a hot beef drink, also spread and cooked with | | Taste | Savoury, slightly sweet, tangy | Savoury, meaty, beefy | | Owner | Unilever (being sold to McCormick) | Unilever (also in the same sale) | ## The big difference: yeast or beef This is the one to remember. Marmite is a yeast extract, a by-product of brewing beer, which is why it is fine for vegetarians and vegans and why it carries added B12. Bovril is a meat product, a beef extract that began life in the 1870s as "Johnston's Fluid Beef", invented by a Scottish butcher named John Lawson Johnston to help feed Napoleon III's army during the Franco-Prussian War. The name is a small piece of Victorian showmanship: "Bo" from the Latin for ox, and "Vril" borrowed from a popular 1871 science-fiction novel about a master race powered by a mysterious energy called Vril. There is one wrinkle worth knowing, because it confuses people. For a short period in the mid-2000s, between 2004 and 2006, Unilever reformulated Bovril without beef, using yeast extract instead, which briefly made it vegetarian. In 2006 they put the beef back. So if you remember Bovril being vegetarian once, you are not imagining it, but today's Bovril is beef again. If you want the meat-free option, it is Marmite. ## How you actually use them The other real difference is what you do with the jar. Marmite is a spread. Its natural home is hot buttered toast, with the occasional outing into cooking for a savoury lift. Bovril's traditional life is as a drink: a spoonful in a mug of hot water, the classic thing to cup your hands around at a cold football match. It is also spread and cooked with, but the hot-drink ritual is what Bovril is for in a way Marmite never has been. Nobody is making a mug of hot Marmite at half time. ## What they have in common For two products that are chemically opposite, they share a surprising amount. Both are intensely savoury British brown pastes built on the nineteenth-century food science of the German chemist Justus von Liebig, who showed that yeast and meat could be concentrated into nourishing extracts. Both became staples of British life and the British Empire. And both are owned by Unilever, which means both are part of the same "Historic British Brands" parcel now being sold to the American company McCormick, alongside Colman's. If you are following the [Marmite sale story](/buyout), Bovril is travelling in the same crate. ## So which should you choose? It is not really a contest, because they answer different questions. If you want something to spread on toast, or you are vegetarian or vegan, or you want the B12, it is Marmite. If you want a hot, beefy, restorative drink on a freezing afternoon, it is Bovril, and Marmite cannot do that job. They are not rivals so much as cousins who went into different trades. For the closer rivalry, the one that actually causes arguments, you want [Marmite versus Vegemite](/articles/marmite-vs-vegemite), where both jars are yeast extract and the fight is real. ## Quick answers **Is Bovril the same as Marmite?** No. Marmite is yeast extract (vegetarian and vegan). Bovril is beef extract (not vegetarian). **Is Bovril vegetarian?** Not now. It was briefly, from 2004 to 2006, when Unilever made it with yeast extract, but the beef was reinstated in 2006. **Can you spread Bovril like Marmite?** Yes, you can spread it on toast, but it is traditionally drunk as a hot beef drink, which is not something you would do with Marmite. **Are Marmite and Bovril made by the same company?** Yes, both are Unilever brands, and both are part of the food business being sold to McCormick. ## What is the difference between Marmite and Bovril? The key difference is what they are made from. Marmite is a yeast extract, made from brewer's yeast, so it is suitable for vegetarians and vegans. Bovril is a beef extract, made from meat, so it is not. Both are dark, salty, savoury pastes owned by Unilever, but Marmite is built for spreading on toast and Bovril is traditionally made into a hot drink. ## Which is healthier, Marmite or Bovril? Both are very salty and eaten in small amounts, so neither is something you have a lot of. The real nutritional difference is that Marmite is fortified with B vitamins, including B12, which makes it a useful supplement for vegetarians and vegans. Bovril provides a little protein from beef but is not vitamin-fortified in the same way. ## Is Bovril vegetarian? No. Standard Bovril is made from beef extract and is not vegetarian or vegan. That is the main thing that separates it from Marmite, which contains no meat at all. If you want the dark, savoury, salty hit without the beef, Marmite is the vegetarian option. ## Can you use Marmite instead of Bovril? Yes, in most cases. A teaspoon of Marmite stirred into hot water makes a savoury drink in the same spirit as Bovril, and Marmite works well in gravies, stews and stocks where you might otherwise reach for Bovril. The flavour is not identical, Marmite is maltier and Bovril more meaty, but as a vegetarian substitute it does the job. ================================================================================ ## Unilever spins off its ice cream, and Marmite watchers take notes - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/magnum-ice-cream-company-spinoff-signal-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/magnum-ice-cream-company-spinoff-signal-marmite.md - published: 2025-12-08 - document_id: 324 > Unilever's ice cream spin-off is the rehearsal for the food sale. What today's MICC listing tells us about the McCormick-shaped move coming next. ## A Magnum-shaped warning shot Today, with little fanfare and a lot of bankers, The Magnum Ice Cream Company started trading as an independent business on the Amsterdam, London, and New York exchanges. Ticker symbol: MICC. The new company houses Magnum, Wall's, Cornetto, Ben and Jerry's, and the rest of what used to be Unilever's ice cream arm. They are, formally, no longer Unilever. This is interesting in its own right if you care about ice cream M&A, which most of us do not. It is much more interesting if you are watching what Unilever is doing to its food brands. Because this was the rehearsal. ## Why this is a Marmite story Fernando Fernandez took over as Unilever's chief executive earlier this year. His big idea is to reshape Unilever as a beauty and personal care business. The ice cream brands were the first surgical removal because they were the easiest to lift out cleanly: they had separate manufacturing, separate distribution channels (frozen rather than ambient), and a balance sheet that could stand on its own. The food brands, including Marmite, are next. They are messier to remove because the supply chain and the route to market overlap more with the household care brands. But the strategic intent is the same. Unilever wants out of food. If you want a date for when the McCormick deal, or whatever the food spin-off looks like, gets announced, today is a useful anchor. The City is now confident that Unilever can execute a clean separation. The food piece will follow, probably in the first half of 2026. ## What this tells us about the food deal that is coming Three things, in order of importance. First, Unilever's bankers are now experienced. They have just run a multi-billion-dollar separation across three stock exchanges. Whoever advised them, and whoever ends up on the food side, will move faster on the next one. Second, the markets did not punish Unilever for the ice cream split. The stock moved within a normal range on the announcement and the listing day. That is a green light, in the corporate finance sense, for the second, bigger move. Third, the precedent now exists for "we spin off a category we no longer believe in, into its own listed vehicle, and let the food category find its own valuation". The Magnum Ice Cream Company could equally be a template for The Unilever Foods Company, if no acquirer comes in with the right price. We should not assume the food brands will be sold to a single buyer. A spin-off is now in the realistic option set. ## What this does not mean It does not mean Marmite is being separated immediately. Today's listing is purely the ice cream brands. The food sale process Reuters reported last month is still running, and will run for several months at minimum. Marmite is in the queue. It also does not mean Unilever has stopped being interested in Marmite's revenue. Until the moment a buyer or spin-off completes, Unilever still runs the brand, still collects the cash from it, and still has every reason to keep it humming. The jar on the shelf today is the same jar that was on the shelf yesterday. The interesting question is not what happens in the next ninety days. It is what shape the eventual food separation takes. Sale to a single buyer? Sale to two or three category buyers? Spin-off into a listed vehicle? Some hybrid of all three? After today, all of those options are on the table, and we should expect Unilever's bankers to push for whichever produces the highest combined value. The interests of the British shopper who has eaten Marmite for forty years are not, formally, part of that calculation. ## What to watch in early 2026 Three signals. The first is Unilever's full-year results in late January, which will include language about food disposals and a likely timetable. The second is any change in the language coming out of Burton-on-Trent management about staffing and investment. The third, and least obvious, is whether McCormick or any other large flavours company starts hiring M&A advisers in Europe. You will not be told the deal is coming. You will see the supporting cast move first. ## Update, 31 March 2026: the food deal landed The food deal arrived on 31 March 2026, three months after this piece was published, and it did not take the spin-off shape sketched above. Unilever combined all of Unilever Foods with McCormick in a £33.5 billion Reverse Morris Trust transaction. The combined company keeps the McCormick name, the NYSE listing, the Hunt Valley global headquarters, and a second international headquarters in the Netherlands. Brendan Foley stays on as chief executive. Marcos Gabriel stays as chief financial officer. Unilever shareholders end up with 55.1 per cent of the combined equity and Unilever corporate retains a further 9.9 per cent; McCormick's existing shareholders get the remaining 35 per cent. On top of the equity, Unilever receives a one-time $15.7 billion cash payment. For Marmite specifically, the press release explicitly names only two Unilever Foods brands, Knorr and Hellmann's, which account for around 70 per cent of Unilever Foods sales. Marmite is bundled with Bovril, Colman's, Pot Noodle and the other British heritage brands under "a wide array of local brands across EMEA, Latin America and APAC". The Indian, Nepalese and Portuguese foods businesses, the Lifestyle & Nutrition arm (Horlicks), Buavita in Indonesia and the Lipton Ready-to-Drink joint venture are excluded. So the Magnum spin-off was indeed the rehearsal, but the main event chose a different structure: not another listed spin-off, but a tax-efficient combination with a US strategic acquirer. The City got the timing right and the shape wrong. ================================================================================ ## Elton's last Marmite jar, and a million quid for the AIDS Foundation - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-elton-john-im-still-standing-final-jar-ejaf-million - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-elton-john-im-still-standing-final-jar-ejaf-million.md - published: 2025-12-05 - document_id: 326 > The final Elton John Marmite jar wraps a four-year, £1 million partnership for the AIDS Foundation. The Dodger Stadium design is the best of the run. ## A good ending to a good run The four-year partnership between Marmite and the Elton John AIDS Foundation wrapped earlier this year, and with the benefit of a few months' distance it is clear that this one was, by some way, the best charity tie-up the brand has done. Over £1 million raised for EJAF, four limited-edition jars, four sold-out runs, and a final jar that I think is genuinely the best of the lot. The final jar, released in June and now mostly out of circulation, features Sir Elton in his Dodger Stadium baseball outfit from 1975. White and silver sequins, the famous "EJ" stitched onto the front of the shirt, peak Captain Fantastic era. The design treatment puts him three-quarter-on against the Marmite black, and the result is, frankly, a thing of beauty. The jar is titled "I'm Still Standing". The title was, presumably, picked by someone with an excellent sense of humour about what a four-year partnership with a yeast extract company looks like at the end. ## What it raised, and what it took to raise it A pound from every limited-edition jar went to EJAF. Across the four releases, the total cleared £1 million. That is not enormous in the league table of corporate-charity tie-ups, but it is real money, and it was raised quietly and without much corporate fanfare, which is the bit I respect. The jars sold quickly, mostly because Elton fans bought them as collectibles rather than as Marmite, but the fact that Marmite fans also bought them is the more interesting story. The brand has a small, loyal collector community for limited-edition jars. They will hunt down a sensible cause attached to a jar more reliably than they will hunt down a clever flavour collaboration. This is useful information for whoever ends up running the brand next. ## My quiet declaration of interest I should be in there too. I did tonnes of stuff for Marmite from its 100th anniversary in 2002 until life got too hectic, including some collector-jar adjacent work, so I am not pretending to be a neutral observer of jar design. With that confession out of the way, the Elton series is genuinely the strongest collector run Marmite has done in twenty-five years. The first three were good. The Dodger Stadium one is excellent ;) ## Why this collaboration worked when others have not Marmite has done a lot of partnerships. Some have been great, some have been not great. The pattern that emerges, looking back across the last fifteen years, is that the great ones share two qualities. The first is genuine cultural fit. Elton John is loud, divisive, much-loved, and frequently dismissed by people who do not get the joke. Marmite is loud, divisive, much-loved, and frequently dismissed by people who do not get the joke. The brand fit is immediate and self-explanatory, which is more than can be said for the average celebrity tie-up. The second is a real cause. EJAF is not a vanity foundation. It funds HIV and AIDS research and patient services worldwide. A pound per jar is not a token gesture if the run is large enough, and over four years the run was large enough. The ones that have not worked, by contrast, have tended to either chase a fleeting cultural moment (the various Royal Wedding jars) or to attach a charity that is fine but uncharismatic. The Elton run had both ingredients right. ## What this means for the next collector jar Marmite will do another celebrity collaboration. The Dodger Stadium jar is not the end of the format, only the end of this run. Whatever McCormick decides to do with the brand once the deal closes, collector jars are too cheap and too well-loved to drop. The question is whether the next partnership has the same instincts. The best collector jars do two things: they give a clever fan something they actually want to own, and they raise serious money for a cause that fits. The bar that Elton just set is reasonably high. We will see who clears it. For now, if you have a Dodger Stadium jar on your shelf with the seal still intact, hang on to it. It is the strongest design Marmite have put out in this format. It is also, you might mention to visitors, worth a million pounds, give or take. ================================================================================ ## Is Marmite banned in British prisons? The 'Marmite Mule' myth - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-banned-in-british-prisons - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-banned-in-british-prisons.md - published: 2025-11-25 - document_id: 681 > The story goes that Marmite is banned in British prisons because inmates were using it to brew illicit alcohol. It makes a good headline and a worse fact. There is no blanket ban, and the science the myth rests on is wrong: the yeast in Marmite is dead before it reaches the jar, so it cannot ferment anything. Every so often the claim resurfaces that Marmite is banned in British prisons. The reason given is always the same and always cheering: inmates were using it to brew their own alcohol, a jailhouse drink the internet likes to call the Marmite Mule, so the authorities took the jars away. It is a good story. It is mostly wrong, and the part of it that sounds most scientific is the part that falls apart first. ## There is no blanket ban Start with the claim itself. There is no documented, service-wide ban on Marmite across British prisons. What there is, here and there, is the ordinary business of a prison confiscating something it thinks is being misused. Individual prisons control what comes in, and a governor who suspects a wing is brewing hooch can pull all sorts of things off the canteen list, sugar and fruit and yeast products included. That is a local decision about contraband brewing, not a national edict against a savoury spread. The confusion is helped along by Australia, where Vegemite, Marmite's antipodean cousin, has a much firmer reputation for being restricted in prisons for exactly this reason. The Australian story gets retold with a British jar in it, and a local crackdown somewhere becomes, in the telling, a countrywide ban. The specific British case people point to, a report from Dartmoor, is a single prison, not the system. ## The science the myth needs is not there The trouble is the science. The whole story depends on Marmite being able to ferment, on its yeast being alive and hungry and ready to turn sugar into alcohol if a resourceful prisoner gives it the chance. That is not what Marmite is. Marmite is made from spent brewer's yeast that has already done its fermenting in a brewery, and the manufacturing process, autolysis, deliberately breaks the yeast cells down. By the time the stuff is in the jar the yeast is dead, digested, reduced to a concentrated savoury extract. Dead yeast does not ferment. You cannot reanimate a spoonful of Marmite into a working brewery any more than you can plant a tin of corned beef and grow a cow. The most you can honestly say is that Marmite, being rich in the nutrients yeast likes, could in theory act as a feed for other, living yeast that a brewer had got hold of from somewhere else. In that version Marmite is not the engine of the still, it is at best a bag of fertiliser standing next to it, and even that is marginal. It is not what turns prison sugar into prison wine. The sugar and a live yeast culture do that, with or without a jar of Marmite in the cell. ## Why it sticks anyway So why does the ban story keep coming back? Because it joins two ideas that each feel true on their own. Everyone knows prisoners brew illicit drink, and everyone half-remembers that Marmite is "made of yeast", and yeast is the brewing word. Put the two together and you get a conclusion that sounds obvious and saves anybody the trouble of asking whether the yeast in question is alive. It is the same shape as the Denmark ban: a real institutional fact, prisons really do confiscate brewing kit, dressed up into a dramatic national ban that did not happen. There is a small true thing at the centre, as there usually is. Prisons do remove things they think will be fermented, and a jar of Marmite has occasionally been one of them. But "a prison once confiscated a jar" and "Marmite is banned in British prisons" are not the same sentence, and only one of them is true. For the science of how Marmite is actually made, and why that dead-yeast process matters here, there is a piece on [how Marmite is made](/articles/how-marmite-is-made-yeast-autolysis). And for the most famous "banned" story of all, the one about Denmark, that has [its own myth to bust](/articles/was-marmite-banned-in-denmark). ================================================================================ ## M&S launches a Marmite caramel sauce, because of course they did - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marks-and-spencer-marmite-caramel-swalty-christmas - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marks-and-spencer-marmite-caramel-swalty-christmas.md - published: 2025-11-22 - document_id: 325 > M&S launches a Marmite caramel sauce for Christmas. The word 'swalty' is regrettable. The sauce itself, surprisingly, works on ice cream. ## Oh Lord, swalty M&S has launched a Marmite Caramel Sauce. They have, alongside it, launched a Marmite Pecan and Salted Caramel Blondie. They have decided that this whole package is part of a flavour trend they are calling "swalty", which is sweet-and-salty for people who could not quite be bothered to say sweet-and-salty. Anyway. The sauce comes in a small glass jar, costs roughly the same as a good chutney, and is designed to be drizzled on ice cream or, more ambitiously, stirred into a baking mix. The blondie is a tray bake with pecan and a Marmite-tinged caramel running through it. Both are M&S exclusive, both are Christmas 2025 only, and both, by all accounts, sold rapidly enough that M&S have already had to restock twice. ## The trend, such as it is Sweet-savoury has been the fastest-growing flavour combination in UK retail for about three years now. Salted caramel was the gateway drug. Miso caramel followed in 2023. Marmite caramel is the inevitable next move, given that Marmite produces a deeper, more umami-rich note than miso, at a fraction of the cost. What is mildly surprising is that the sauce is not a one-off novelty. M&S have clearly designed it to be used: it is thick enough to drizzle without running, sweet enough that the Marmite reads as a savoury kicker rather than the main event, and pitched at a price point that suggests they expect repeat purchase rather than novelty single use. Whether anyone actually keeps buying it after January is the question. Most Marmite collaborations launch in a flurry, sell out the first run, get retired, and never come back. The peanut butter took several attempts to stick. The popcorn took a decade. If swalty caramel is back for Christmas 2026, we will know M&S have something durable. ## Does it actually work Yes, mostly. I tried the sauce on vanilla ice cream and on a warm chocolate brownie. On the ice cream it is, frankly, a triumph: the cold sweet base lets the Marmite character come through without overwhelming, and the salt note balances neatly. On the brownie it works less well, because the chocolate fights the Marmite for the same flavour register and they both lose slightly. The blondie I have not tested under controlled conditions, by which I mean I have not bought a second one to verify the first one. It tasted, in the moment, like a perfectly good blondie with a savoury undertone that you noticed about three seconds after the sweet hit. Whether that undertone added or distracted depends, predictably, on whether you are in the Love camp or the Hate camp. ## A small note on the marketing "Swalty" is a coinage that nobody asked for. It is the kind of word that comes out of an agency brainstorm and that no actual human being has ever said out loud unprompted. If it survives past January 2026, I will be both surprised and impressed. But the products themselves are well-judged. The sauce especially is a good idea: it gives Marmite a route into ice cream and pudding territory without the brand having to launch its own dessert line. M&S, for their part, get a credible Christmas exclusive and a small media moment. Both sides win. The word "swalty" loses. Possibly we all lose, slightly, on the word "swalty". ## Where to find it M&S Food stores only, both sauce and blondie, while stocks last. The sauce is also showing on M&S online with a small delivery markup. Neither product is, as far as I can tell, available outside the UK. If you are an expat reading this, sorry. ================================================================================ ## Unilever quietly puts Marmite up for sale - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/unilever-formal-sale-process-marmite-historic-brands-2025 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/unilever-formal-sale-process-marmite-historic-brands-2025.md - published: 2025-11-15 - document_id: 323 > Reuters reports Unilever has opened a formal sale process for Marmite, Bovril, and Colman's. What the 'Historic British Brands' bundle actually means. ## So this is happening Reuters spent most of last week reporting, with increasing confidence, that Unilever has opened a formal sale process for a cluster of brands it is now calling, internally and unromantically, "Historic British Brands". The cluster generates about £200 million a year in revenue. At its centre, with the most cultural weight by some distance, is Marmite. Bovril and Colman's are in the bundle too. So is, depending on which version of the story you read, Pot Noodle. The "historic" framing is the part that has people a bit nervous. It is the corporate shorthand for "things we no longer want to be in the business of making", which is not, when you think about it, the cosy heritage statement Unilever's PR team probably hoped it sounded like. ## Why now Unilever's chief executive Fernando Fernandez (still no, not making that name up) took over in March and has been busy with a strategy he calls the Growth Action Plan. The short version is that Unilever wants to be a beauty and personal care company. The longer version takes about thirty slides and the same word repeated a lot: focus, focus, focus. Under the plan, Unilever has identified thirty "Power Brands" that get the marketing money, the executive attention, and the future. Dove, Vaseline, Sure, and most of the personal care portfolio are on the list. Marmite, Bovril, Colman's, and most of the regional food portfolio are *not*. The sale process is the logical end of that exclusion. This is a quiet weekday news story that will turn loud the moment a buyer is named. The City pages have noticed. The food pages have mostly not. The Burton-on-Trent local press is, predictably, ahead of both. ## A brief history of who has owned Marmite The Marmite Food Extract Company was founded in 1902. In 1990, the brand was acquired by Best Foods. Best Foods was acquired by Unilever in 2000. So Unilever has been Marmite's parent for twenty-five years, give or take, and the brand has spent the previous ninety-eight years passing through a chain of mostly British holding companies. Twenty-five years is long enough that most current British shoppers will not remember a time when Marmite was not Unilever's. It is also, in the timeline of the brand, the most recent quarter of its life. That matters because brand identity does drift in long ownership. The label has changed. The advertising has changed. The product, mercifully, has not changed much, and that is the bit that will be tested by whoever buys it next. ## What happens next A formal sale process means investment banks. It means data rooms. It means a list of potential buyers, mostly private equity, possibly one or two strategic acquirers from the global flavours-and-seasonings world. Unilever will want a deal closed within roughly twelve months, which puts a likely announcement in late 2026. The buyer that worries British food writers the most is private equity, on the basis that PE owners typically squeeze costs and resell within five years. The buyer that worries the workforce most is anyone American with a track record of factory closures, for reasons covered extensively in the Cadbury postmortems. The buyer that would be quietly best, if you are an optimistic Marmite fan, is a mid-sized food company with patience, a flavours specialism, and no incentive to mess with what already works. Such buyers exist. Whether any of them are in the room when Unilever's bankers are taking calls, we will find out. For now, the jar on the shelf is the same jar. The Burton plant is the same plant. The recipe has not changed. Whoever ends up writing the cheque, that is the part we are watching. ## Update, 31 March 2026: what actually happened The "buyer" turned out to be McCormick, the American spice company. The deal was announced on 31 March 2026. It is not a clean sale of the Historic British Brands cluster to a category buyer; it is a £33.5 billion combination of all of Unilever Foods with McCormick, structured as a Reverse Morris Trust. The combined company keeps the McCormick name, the NYSE listing, the Hunt Valley global headquarters, and a second international headquarters in the Netherlands. Brendan Foley, McCormick's chief executive, runs it. Marcos Gabriel is the chief financial officer. Unilever appoints four of twelve directors. A detail worth flagging: the press release explicitly names only two brands, Knorr and Hellmann's, which between them account for around 70 per cent of Unilever Foods sales. Marmite, Bovril, Colman's and the rest of the Historic British Brands cluster discussed above are bundled into "a wide array of local brands across EMEA, Latin America and APAC". The cluster is included, but it is not a strategic centrepiece of the transaction. The press release does not mention Burton or any UK manufacturing commitment by name. India, Nepal and Portugal foods, Lifestyle & Nutrition (Horlicks), Buavita and the Lipton RTD joint venture are excluded and stay with Unilever's slimmed-down HPC business. Fernando Fernández described the residual as "a €39 billion pureplay HPC company". The deal is expected to close in mid-2027, subject to McCormick shareholder approval, regulatory clearances and works-council consultation. ================================================================================ ## How to eat Marmite on toast (and the mistake nearly everyone makes) - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/how-to-eat-marmite-on-toast - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/how-to-eat-marmite-on-toast.md - published: 2025-11-11 - document_id: 497 > The right way to eat Marmite on toast: hot toast, real butter on first so it melts, then a thin scrape, not a thick layer. The commonest mistake is using too much, which is why most people who think they hate it have never had it done properly. If you have only ever had Marmite the wrong way, you will think you hate it. Most people who say they cannot stand it were handed a slice with a thick, gleaming layer of the stuff troweled straight onto dry toast. That is not how you eat Marmite. Done properly it is one of the great two-minute breakfasts, and the method matters more than people think. The short version: hot toast, butter on first while it is still warm, then a thin scrape of Marmite. The single biggest mistake is using too much. ## The method 1. **Toast the bread properly,** and use it while it is hot. The heat is doing real work in a moment. 2. **Butter it first, with real butter,** right away so the butter melts into the toast. This is not optional. The butter is the carrier; it softens the salt and spreads the Marmite thin. 3. **Add a thin scrape of Marmite** on top of the butter. A scrape, not a layer. You should be able to see the toast through it in places. If the toast looks evenly black, you have used far too much. 4. **Spread it into the melted butter** so the two combine. Eat at once, while it is hot. That is the whole thing. The difference between this and a thick cold smear is the difference between people who love Marmite and people who are certain they do not. ## Why less is so much more Marmite is intense and very salty. It is a seasoning that happens to come in a spread's clothing. A thin scrape gives you the deep, savoury, slightly tangy hit it is famous for. A thick layer gives you a mouthful of salt and the conviction that the haters were right all along. If you are new to it, start with less than you think, almost nothing, and build up over a few breakfasts. Your idea of the "right" amount will settle quickly. The butter matters for the same reason. It carries the Marmite, melts it thin, and rounds off the salt. Marmite straight onto dry toast is a punishing experience and not the intended one. ## Good variations Once you have the basic slice right, it takes well to a few additions: - **With cheese.** A thin scrape of Marmite under grated cheese, then grilled, is a properly good cheese on toast. The two are both savoury and they multiply each other. - **With a soft-boiled or poached egg.** Marmite toast soldiers into a runny yolk is a small, perfect thing. - **With avocado.** A scrape of Marmite under smashed avocado cuts the richness and adds a savoury floor. - **On a crumpet.** All those holes hold the melted butter and Marmite. Arguably better than toast, and I will take the arguments. ## Beyond toast Toast is the classic, but the same restraint applies everywhere Marmite goes. A tiny amount, used as a savoury booster, is the rule in cooking too, where it lifts stews and gravies for exactly the same reason it works on toast. There is more on that in [why a teaspoon of Marmite makes everything taste better](/articles/marmite-umami-synergy-why-it-makes-food-taste-better). ## Quick answers **How much Marmite should you put on toast?** A thin scrape, not a layer. You should still see the toast through it in places. Too much is the commonest mistake. **Do you butter toast before Marmite?** Yes. Butter first, with real butter, while the toast is hot so it melts. The butter carries the Marmite and softens the salt. **Why does my Marmite toast taste too salty?** You are using too much. Scale right back, a scrape is plenty, and make sure there is butter underneath. **Does Marmite go on hot or cold toast?** Hot. The heat melts the butter, which melts the Marmite into it. Cold toast gives you a stiff, oversalted smear. ================================================================================ ## Will Marmite still be British? The McCormick takeover of Unilever Foods, explained - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-future-under-scrutiny-unilever-portfolio-focus - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-future-under-scrutiny-unilever-portfolio-focus.md - published: 2025-11-09 - document_id: 209 > The Grocer is reporting that Marmite has been quietly reclassified as non-core inside Unilever. Non-core is corporate for "we are open to offers". ## The Grocer says the quiet bit out loud The Grocer is reporting that Marmite has been quietly reclassified as non-core inside Unilever. Non-core is corporate for "we are open to offers". Unilever has a new chief executive, Fernando Fernandez (does he hav the same first and last name??), who took over earlier this year after Hein Schumacher's short tenure ended. Fernandez has been talking up a thirty-brand "Power Brands" list and a sharper portfolio. Marmite, by all accounts, is not on the list. ## Non-core, with 36 per cent of the market This is the bit that makes you raise an eyebrow. Marmite has a thirty-six per cent share of the UK yeast-extract market and brings in about £28 million a year. Those are not non-core numbers. They are "small but reliable British brand quietly minting money" numbers. But Unilever is not in the business of small but reliable any more. The new shape is global mega-brands or nothing, and Marmite, Bovril and Pot Noodle are reportedly bundled together as a Historic British Brands lump that may go out as a single package. You may remember Marmite's last brush with corporate drama. In 2016, Tesco refused a price rise from Unilever, the jars vanished from the shelves for a week, and the resulting headlines drove sales up sixty-one per cent. Three hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds in extra sales in seven days, from a row about pennies on a wholesale price list. If that does not count as brand power, I do not know what does. ## What changes if it sells? Honestly, possibly not much, at least at first. The recipe and the Burton factory have outlasted every previous owner. Marmite came into Unilever through the 2000 Best Foods merger and the jar that arrived in your kitchen the week after was the same jar. The thing to watch is who buys it. A smaller food group that wants a heritage British brand on its books has every reason to leave the recipe alone and pour a bit of money back into Marmite. A private-equity buyer looking to flip in five years is a different proposition, and so is a much larger food group that wants Marmite for shelf muscle rather than the product itself. If you want a worry, the worry is "modernisation". New owners arriving at a famous brand and deciding that the time has come to "evolve" the label, "refresh" the recipe, or move production somewhere cheaper. That is the bit that would actually upset people. ## Anyway Unilever has not formally put Marmite up for sale yet, at least not in public, and these things take months, not weeks. So this is a watching brief rather than a news story. But "non-core" is the word that matters in the report, and once a brand is on that side of the line, it tends not to come back. I will keep an eye on it. *Source: The Grocer.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite in British popular culture: the verb, the meme, and the brand-name shorthand - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-popular-culture - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-popular-culture.md - published: 2025-11-09 - document_id: 208 > It is hard to think of another food brand that became a word in normal British English. Hoover, in its day. Tippex. That is most of the list. Marmite is in it. If you describe a film, a politician, a footballer or a piece of new architecture as "a bit Marmite", everyone in the room nods. ## Not the jar, the idea It is hard to think of another food brand that became a word in normal British English. Hoover, in its day. Tippex. That is most of the list. Marmite is in it. If you describe a film, a politician, a footballer or a piece of new architecture as "a bit Marmite", everyone in the room nods. They know what you mean and they do not need a follow-up question. That is unusual for something whose principal job is being spread thinly on toast. ## Where it came from The phrase dates from the 1996 "Love it or hate it" campaign, which was less an invention than a recognition. People already felt strongly about the spread. The clever bit was leaning into that instead of pretending the jar had broad appeal. Bartle Bogle Hegarty took over the account a few years later and held the line. What the campaign did, almost as a side effect, was give people a noun for a particular shape of split opinion. A Marmite book is one half the book club worships and the other half cannot finish. A Marmite manager is the kind your team will follow off a cliff or threaten to resign over. A Marmite restaurant gets either five stars or one. No threes. ## A small literary aside There is a slim volume by Maggie Hall called *The Mish-Mash Dictionary of Marmite: An Anecdotal A-Z of "Tar-in-a-Jar"* that collects Marmite trivia. It is a love letter, not a reference work, and it is a useful present for the right kind of person. You will know which kind because they will not stop talking about Marmite. The jar also turns up as stage business in British television. A breakfast scene with a jar of Marmite on the table is doing two things at once: it fixes the scene in Britain, and it is telling you something quiet about the character. ## The slogan walks out the door The funny thing about "Love it or hate it" is that the agency probably did not set out to write a tagline that would escape and become a public idiom. Brands try to make that happen all the time, with bigger budgets and worse outcomes. Marmite did it almost by accident, which is more or less the only way these things ever really happen. The metaphor will outlast some of the things currently being described with it. That tends to happen when a product is interesting enough to disagree about. ================================================================================ ## An Australian satirical paper says Marmite is better than Vegemite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-better-than-vegemite-betoota-advocate-satire - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-better-than-vegemite-betoota-advocate-satire.md - published: 2025-11-04 - document_id: 207 > The Betoota Advocate, the Australian satirical paper, has published a piece called Why Marmite Is Better Than Vegemite But Not Better Than Easy Clicks On Your Website . The title is doing the entire job, but it is worth reading the rest because it is also funny. ## The headline is the joke The Betoota Advocate, the Australian satirical paper, has published a piece called *Why Marmite Is Better Than Vegemite But Not Better Than Easy Clicks On Your Website*. The title is doing the entire job, but it is worth reading the rest because it is also funny. The piece is by "Jamie Hottake", which is the level of subtlety we are working at. The argument, such as it is, is that Marmite has "a more saucey sensibility" that suits toast, while Vegemite "looks like something Gwyneth Paltrow should be selling as a colon cleansing candle". I had to read that twice. It came out of an Australian publication. Slowly. ## Self-aware clickbait, which is somehow even funnier The clever bit is that the article keeps telling you it is clickbait while you are reading it. The author cheerfully points out that "news stories about different types of food aren't real news stories" and that this one is "a click piece designed to get up your factory-farmed goat". He is right. We have all clicked anyway. The Betoota Advocate has spent a decade being one of the few satirical outlets that consistently lands the joke, partly because it commits to a single bone-dry register and never explains itself. It is genuinely worth a follow if you do not already. ## The actual Marmite versus Vegemite thing Properly, though, the rivalry is real and it is older than most people realise. Vegemite was developed in 1923 by Cyril Callister in Melbourne, after the First World War made British Marmite hard to get out to Australia. It is, in other words, the Australian copy that everyone forgot was a copy. The two are not the same product. UK Marmite is softer, slightly sweeter, and a bit more rounded. Vegemite is thicker, saltier and more aggressively bitter. Australians will tell you it is the adult version. The British will tell you they have never needed an adult version. Both can be true. (NZ Marmite is a third thing again, made by Sanitarium, sweeter still, and not really the topic for today. Have you ever *tried* Kiwi Marmite?) Where it actually matters, of course, is national pride. Vegemite is built into Australian identity in a way that very few foreign brands ever manage to do to a British food. Marmite is built into ours by way of toast, war rations, advertising, and the small national habit of taking a yeast extract very seriously indeed. ## Anyway Take the compliment, even if it came wrapped in a self-deprecating joke. An Australian satirical paper put "Marmite is better than Vegemite" in a headline. That is not nothing. Just do not show our Australian readers we said Vegemite has earned its place. We have a reputation to keep up. *Source: The Betoota Advocate.* --- ================================================================================ ## A Marlborough boutique has painted itself in Marmite stripes - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-stripes-marlborough-boutique-willow-and-wolf - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-stripes-marlborough-boutique-willow-and-wolf.md - published: 2025-11-03 - document_id: 206 > Isabella Wookey, who runs Willow & Wolf on the high street in Marlborough, Wiltshire, has painted the front of her shop in broad stripes. The stripes are a slightly pinker brown than the proper Marmite yellow-and-oxblood, but the reference is instant. Walk past it and you think, jar. ## A shopfront that reads as Marmite at fifty paces Isabella Wookey, who runs Willow & Wolf on the high street in Marlborough, Wiltshire, has painted the front of her shop in broad stripes. The stripes are a slightly pinker brown than the proper Marmite yellow-and-oxblood, but the reference is instant. Walk past it and you think, jar. Half of Marlborough thinks the stripes are wonderful, a bit of life on a slightly precious high street. The other half thinks they are inappropriate for a Wiltshire market town that has worked very hard at looking exactly like a Wiltshire market town. ## The bit about it being Grade II-listed This is the awkward part. The building is Grade II-listed. Listed buildings need consent from the council before you do anything visible to them, and "paint the whole front in bold stripes" is the platonic example of something visible. Wookey did not ask for consent. Wiltshire Council are now looking at it. The likely outcome is an enforcement notice and a fresh coat of something more compliant. None of which she does not know. ## What this tells us about Marmite This is the genuinely interesting bit, if you put the listed-building drama aside for a second. Wookey did not paint a Marmite logo on the shop. She did not paint a jar. She painted stripes in roughly the right colours, and everyone in town recognised what she was doing. Very few food brands could pull that off. Cadbury purple does it. The Heinz red. The Coca-Cola wave. After that the list runs out quickly. The fact that Marmite has its own shorthand colour scheme, recognisable from across the street with no copy on it, is the sort of brand equity that most companies spend tens of millions and never reach. ## A small thought It is also entirely on-brand for the resulting story to be split down the middle. Heritage town versus contemporary boldness, conservation versus expression, the council's letterhead versus a small business owner with a paint roller and an idea. The story about Marmite stripes provoking strong opposing reactions is itself a story about Marmite provoking strong opposing reactions. The shopfront did not need to do anything else. Whichever way the council goes, Willow & Wolf will have been the most-photographed boutique in Wiltshire this month. That is not the worst commercial outcome for a small shop. *Source: local press, photographs in circulation, common sense.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite sausages: how a Shropshire butcher built an award-winning banger around the yeast extract - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/craft-butcher-wins-national-award-marmite-sausage - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/craft-butcher-wins-national-award-marmite-sausage.md - published: 2025-10-20 - document_id: 205 > Morgan's Country Butchers, based at Waters Tump just outside Newport in Shropshire, have walked away from this year's National Craft Butchers Awards with two prizes for a Marmite-flavoured pork sausage. The awards were held at Harper Adams University in October. ## A Marmite sausage, and a panel of butcher-judges who liked it Morgan's Country Butchers, based at Waters Tump just outside Newport in Shropshire, have walked away from this year's National Craft Butchers Awards with two prizes for a Marmite-flavoured pork sausage. The awards were held at Harper Adams University in October. Two prizes for the same idea is not nothing. The Craft Butchers do not give them out for novelty, they give them out because the panel actually liked the sausage. So someone in that room sat with a forkful, nodded, and ticked the box for both categories. ## Why it works (probably) Pork and yeast extract is not the obvious pairing, but it is not the daft one either. Marmite is, fundamentally, a savoury bomb. A teaspoon does what half a stock cube does. In a sausage mix, where you are trying to bring out the meat and add a small backbone of umami without pushing the seasoning into the foreground, a little Marmite is, in principle, a sensible idea. Whether it works in practice depends on dose, and getting that wrong is the difference between "interesting" and "what is in this". Two awards suggests Morgan's did the maths. ## On putting Marmite into things that are not toast The interesting thing here is not the sausage. The interesting thing is that the food trade is now perfectly willing to put Marmite into product categories that have nothing to do with breakfast. Crisps, cheese, bread, the M&S Marmite sandwich, the Joe & Seph's popcorn, this sausage. None of these are launches that needed Marmite. Each of them used Marmite because Marmite does a specific thing to other ingredients that you cannot easily get from a bottle of soy sauce or a Knorr cube. That is a small and genuine compliment to the brand. The chefs and the food technologists are picking it up because it works. ## Anyway Congratulations to Morgan's. If you are anywhere near Newport, the shop is at Waters Tump. The sausage may or may not still be in production, but if it is, that is the one to ask for. *Source: National Craft Butchers Awards 2025, Harper Adams University.* --- ================================================================================ ## A Marmite glaze for roast vegetables - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-glazes-roasted-vegetables - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-glazes-roasted-vegetables.md - published: 2025-10-15 - document_id: 204 > A teaspoon of Marmite, a tablespoon of oil, a splash of just-boiled water to thin it. Whisk together until it is loose enough to pour. That is the base glaze. It will coat about a roasting tray's worth of vegetables for four people. Add the glaze at the end, not the start. ## The basic idea A teaspoon of Marmite, a tablespoon of oil, a splash of just-boiled water to thin it. Whisk together until it is loose enough to pour. That is the base glaze. It will coat about a roasting tray's worth of vegetables for four people. Add the glaze at the end, not the start. Marmite will scorch and turn bitter if you put it in the oven for an hour. Roast the vegetables first, glaze them when they are nearly done. ## Variations worth bothering with A teaspoon of honey turns the glaze sweet-salty, which is what parsnips were invented for. A teaspoon of sweet chilli sauce gives it a slow back-of-the-throat heat. A clove of grated garlic and a few rosemary needles take it in a Sunday-roast direction. Pick one and commit. All three at once is too much. ## What to put it on Parsnips. Roast potatoes (the glaze goes on after the potatoes are crisp, so it sticks rather than steams). Carrots. Sweet potato. Whole shallots. A tray of mixed root vegetables for a midweek dinner. Cauliflower works, but cauliflower is sturdy and needs the glaze applied a bit earlier and a heavier hand to get past the brassica flavour. It is also surprisingly good on whole roasted garlic bulbs, which then go onto bread or into mash. ## Method 1. Heat the oven to 200°C, or 220°C if you want crisper edges. 2. Cut the vegetables to roughly even pieces, toss with oil, salt and pepper, and roast for thirty to forty minutes until they are nearly done and starting to colour. 3. Mix one teaspoon of Marmite, one tablespoon of olive oil, and one tablespoon of hot water in a small bowl. Whisk with a fork until smooth. Add honey or chilli if you want it. 4. Tip the roasting tray, pour the glaze over the vegetables, toss to coat. 5. Back in the oven for ten more minutes. Watch it. The glaze will go from glossy and right to burnt and wrong in about two minutes if you wander off. 6. Serve straight away. Sprinkle with a few toasted seeds or chopped parsley if you remembered to buy any. That is the whole job. --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite popcorn: the Joe & Seph's bag, what it tastes like, and how to make a better version at home - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/unilever-joe-and-sephs-launch-official-marmite-popcorn - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/unilever-joe-and-sephs-launch-official-marmite-popcorn.md - published: 2025-10-10 - document_id: 203 > Joe & Seph's, the gourmet popcorn people based in north London, have done a deal with Unilever Food Solutions UK to produce the first officially licensed Marmite popcorn. ## A Marmite popcorn with the actual jar on the bag Joe & Seph's, the gourmet popcorn people based in north London, have done a deal with Unilever Food Solutions UK to produce the first officially licensed Marmite popcorn. Unilicensed Marmite popcorn has existed for years on TikTok, in pubs, and in the home kitchens of anyone with a saucepan and a teaspoon of Marmite. This one comes with the proper black-and-yellow jar on the bag. This is a nicer collaboration than most. Joe & Seph's are not a budget brand bolting Marmite onto something cheap. They are the people behind Gin & Tonic popcorn, Toffee Apple & Cinnamon, and a string of Great Taste Awards. So Marmite is being treated as a flavour grown-ups would order on purpose, not as a novelty stocking-filler. ## Why popcorn actually does work with Marmite The trick with Marmite-on-popcorn at home is that Marmite is sticky and popcorn is airy, and trying to coat one with the other in a bowl ends in a clumpy mess at the bottom. The professional method is to melt the Marmite into butter first, drizzle it over the corn while it is still warm, and toss it around like a salad. That, presumably, is roughly what Joe & Seph's are doing at scale. The pay-off is that the corn carries the yeasty bit, the butter softens the salt, and the texture stays light. Done well, it is one of the better Marmite-in-things products you can buy. ## Speaking of Marmite-in-things This is landing in the same news cycle as a Morrisons Marmite Mac 'n' Cheese ready meal (350g, around £3.25). Add the Joe & Seph's popcorn, the M&S Marmite cheddar sandwich, the various Marmite crisps, the peanut butter, and the cheese, and you can see the pattern. Unilever are quietly running Marmite as a flavour licensing business as much as a jar. That is fine. It works as long as the products are good, and Joe & Seph's is one of the right partners to keep that bar up. ## Where to find it Joe & Seph's sell direct and stock through the usual gift and food halls. The bag is the recognisable Joe & Seph's kraft pouch with a Marmite jar on the front, so it is hard to miss. Worth a punt. *Source: Joe & Seph's, Unilever Food Solutions UK, October 2025 trade press.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite went to war, and the B vitamins came with it - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-wartime-rationing-role - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-wartime-rationing-role.md - published: 2025-10-10 - document_id: 202 > Marmite spent both World Wars in British army ration tins. Not as a luxury, as a piece of medicine. ## The army issued it Marmite spent both World Wars in British army ration tins. Not as a luxury, as a piece of medicine. A teaspoon of yeast extract carries a real dose of B vitamins, and B vitamins, specifically thiamine (B1), are what stop you developing beriberi when your diet is mostly biscuit, tinned meat, and tea for months at a stretch. The army quartermasters of the day were not romantic about it. They were trying to keep large numbers of young men upright. Marmite was cheap, kept indefinitely, took up almost no space in a ration tin, and prevented a nutritional disease that would otherwise have invalided people out at scale. That is the entire reason it was in there. ## And the hospitals used it too On the home front, civilian hospitals were running into the same problem at the other end of the scale: malnutrition in children, especially in deprived urban areas where the rationing was bearing down hard on already poor diets. Marmite turned up there as well, sometimes in solution, sometimes spread thin on whatever bread the ward could get hold of. The doctors of the period wrote up cases of children recovering on a regime that included regular Marmite, and the spread was promoted in maternity and infant care guidance through both wars. This is not the brand reading too much into its own history. There are real ration cards, real War Office documents, and real medical papers behind it. Marmite was one of a small handful of British food products that had a documented public health role in wartime, alongside cod liver oil and the orange juice concentrate that fuelled a generation of post-war babies. ## The other half: morale The official line was the vitamins. The unofficial line was that a tin of stew with a teaspoon of Marmite stirred in tastes like a real dinner instead of a punishment. Recipe pamphlets of the period are full of "stretch your rations" tricks built around Marmite, the same way recipe pamphlets of our own period are full of "stretch your shopping" tricks built around tomato puree. Cheap, intense, savoury, and a little goes a long way. Wartime cooks worked out the same things home cooks work out now. ## Why this is worth remembering The wartime story is the reason there is so much loyalty to the jar in older British households. People grew up on a product the state was actively recommending, the army was actively issuing, and their mother was actively rationing the spoonful of for everyone at the breakfast table. That is the sort of thing that builds a lifetime habit. Most heritage-brand stories are advertising-led nonsense. This one is not. Marmite genuinely was a piece of Britain's wartime health infrastructure. It just happens also to be quite good on toast. *Sources: Imperial War Museums; War Office ration records; period medical literature on infant nutrition; Wikipedia on Marmite history.* --- ================================================================================ ## Does Marmite turn white if you stir it? Almost, and the reason is pure physics - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/does-marmite-turn-white-when-stirred - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/does-marmite-turn-white-when-stirred.md - published: 2025-10-07 - document_id: 683 > Most Marmite myths fall apart the moment you check them. This one does the opposite. Whip a blob of Marmite hard enough and it really does lighten dramatically, from near-black to a pale milky beige. Not, despite the legend, pure white, but startlingly pale. It is not a trick or a chemical reaction. It is physics, and you can do it on your own toast. Most Marmite claims fall apart the moment you check them. This one survives, which is rare enough to be worth a whole piece. Take a blob of Marmite on a plate and whip it, hard, with the back of a spoon, for a minute or two. It lightens. Keep going and the famous near-black paste turns the colour of weak coffee, then milky beige, then something close to cream. I have tried it, and in the interest of honesty mine never went pure white. It went very pale, the colour of a milky coffee, which is exactly what the science says should happen. The "white" in the legend oversells it slightly. The transformation does not. People assume it is a trick. It is completely real, and the reason is quietly elegant. ## It is physics, not chemistry The instinct is to reach for a chemical explanation, some reaction with air that bleaches the stuff. That is not what is happening. The Marmite is not changing what it is made of at all. You could scrape the pale whipped version back together, leave it, and it would slowly darken again. Nothing has been created or destroyed. What has changed is what the Marmite is doing to light. Marmite looks almost black for a simple reason: it is very good at absorbing light. Shine light at a smooth blob and most of it goes in and does not come back out, so your eye registers near-black. When you whip it, you beat thousands upon thousands of tiny air bubbles into the paste. Each bubble is a little boundary between air and Marmite, and at every one of those boundaries light gets bounced and bent rather than swallowed. The more you whip, the more bubbles you cram in, and the more the light is scattered back out towards your eye instead of being absorbed. Scatter enough light back and the surface stops looking dark and starts looking pale. It is the same physics that makes other dark things go pale when you fill them with bubbles. Black coffee is nearly opaque, but the froth on top of it is fawn-coloured. Stout is famously dark, yet its head is creamy white. The liquid has not changed colour. The foam is just full of bubbles throwing the light around, and whipped Marmite is doing exactly that, only with a much stiffer paste that holds the bubbles in place so you can sit and admire the effect. ## Why it feels like a myth So why does "Marmite turns white if you stir it" get filed alongside the prison ban and the mosquito nonsense, as if it were another tall tale? Partly because it sounds like one. It has the same too-good-to-be-true ring as the fictions, and most things that sound like that about Marmite turn out to be wrong, so people reasonably assume this one is too. Partly because hardly anyone has a reason to whip Marmite for two solid minutes, so almost nobody has seen it happen, which keeps it in the realm of the rumoured rather than the witnessed. But it has been a known piece of kitchen-table science for years, demonstrated in classrooms as a neat way to teach how colour and light and scattering work, written up by the popular science magazines, and it holds up every time. This is the rare Marmite "did you know" that you can settle yourself in the time it takes to make breakfast, with no equipment beyond a spoon, a plate and a bit of patience. ## The one that is true Every collection of myths needs one that turns out to be real, if only to keep the others honest, and this is it. Marmite is not banned in [Denmark](/articles/was-marmite-banned-in-denmark) or [British prisons](/articles/is-marmite-banned-in-british-prisons), it will not [keep the mosquitoes off you](/articles/does-marmite-repel-mosquitoes), and [Margaret Thatcher almost certainly never ate it](/articles/margaret-thatcher-marmite-politician). But it really will go startlingly pale if you whip it long enough, for the most respectable of reasons. For more on why the unwhipped jar is so dark and so strong in the first place, there is a piece on [why Marmite tastes the way it does](/articles/why-does-marmite-taste-like-that). ================================================================================ ## Why a teaspoon of Marmite makes everything taste better: the umami multiplier - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-umami-synergy-why-it-makes-food-taste-better - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-umami-synergy-why-it-makes-food-taste-better.md - published: 2025-10-07 - document_id: 492 > There is a real reason a teaspoon of Marmite turns a flat stew into something with depth. It is umami synergy, discovered in 1957: glutamates and certain nucleotides multiply each other rather than add. Marmite is pure glutamate looking for a partner. Anyone who cooks with Marmite knows the trick. A teaspoon stirred into a stew, a gravy, or a tomato sauce, and the whole thing suddenly tastes like it has been simmering twice as long. The odd part is that you cannot taste the Marmite. It disappears, and leaves depth behind. There is an actual reason for this, and it is one of the more satisfying bits of food science I know. ## The 1957 discovery The savoury taste we now call umami comes mainly from glutamate, the thing a Japanese chemist named Kikunae Ikeda identified in seaweed stock back in 1908. Marmite is loaded with free glutamate, which is most of why it tastes the way it does. The better story is what happened next. In 1957 another Japanese scientist, Akira Kuninaka, noticed something strange while tasting compounds in the lab. On their own, certain substances called nucleotides (the ones with names like inosinate and guanylate) have only a weak savoury taste. But when he tasted one straight after glutamate, without rinsing his mouth, the umami hit was enormous. The two were multiplying each other. He had found umami synergy. Put glutamate together with these nucleotides and the savoury taste is not added, it is multiplied, by something like eight times in human tasting. Not eight per cent. Eight times. ## Where Marmite fits This is the whole secret of cooking with Marmite. Marmite brings a huge amount of glutamate to the party. What it does not bring much of is the nucleotides. So Marmite does its most dramatic work when you add it to foods that are rich in those nucleotides but short on glutamate. Which foods? Meat and fish carry inosinate. Mushrooms, especially dried ones, are loaded with guanylate. So: - A beef stew or gravy has the meat nucleotides but tastes thin. A teaspoon of Marmite supplies the glutamate, the two multiply, and the gravy goes from flat to deep. - A mushroom risotto or a mushroom sauce is the textbook case. Mushrooms plus Marmite is the synergy effect in its purest kitchen form. - A tomato sauce already has some glutamate of its own, so Marmite helps but the jump is smaller. Add a little anchovy or a parmesan rind as well and you have stacked the whole effect. This is also why a scrape of Marmite on cheese on toast is more than the sum of its parts. Cheese, particularly a hard aged one like parmesan, brings glutamate of its own, and toast under melted cheese is exactly the sort of savoury base the jar was born to lift. ## The practical rule You do not need to remember the chemistry to use it. The rule is simply this: a tiny amount of Marmite, stirred in early, makes savoury cooked food taste richer and more finished, and it works best on anything with meat or mushrooms in it. Start with half a teaspoon for a pan that feeds four, taste, and add more only if you must. The point is depth, not a Marmite flavour. If you can taste the Marmite, you have used too much. Nigella worked this out in her kitchen years before any of us were calling it synergy on TikTok. Kuninaka worked it out in a lab in 1957. The jar has been quietly doing the maths in British kitchens the whole time. ================================================================================ ## Remember when Marmite vanished from Tesco? - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/when-marmite-disappeared-brexit-tesco-standoff - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/when-marmite-disappeared-brexit-tesco-standoff.md - published: 2025-10-01 - document_id: 201 > For about a week in October 2016, you could not buy a jar of Marmite in Tesco. There was a price tag where it should be, a gap on the shelf where it should be, and absolutely no jar. What was actually happening was a fight over a price rise. ## October 2016, and the shelves were empty For about a week in October 2016, you could not buy a jar of Marmite in Tesco. There was a price tag where it should be, a gap on the shelf where it should be, and absolutely no jar. What was actually happening was a fight over a price rise. The pound had fallen sharply after the Brexit referendum that summer, Unilever's input costs had gone up, and Unilever wanted to push roughly ten per cent onto wholesale prices across a long list of brands. Tesco said no. Unilever stopped supplying. Tesco's shelves emptied. Both sides assumed the other would blink. ## Why Marmite became the story The thing is, Unilever were trying to push the rise on dozens of products. Persil. PG Tips. Comfort. Hellmann's. All of them affected. None of them made the news. The only one that made the news was Marmite, because Marmite is the brand the press reaches for whenever it needs a metonym for "an ordinary British thing that everyone has an opinion about". You cannot write a sad headline about Persil. You can write a sad headline about Marmite all day. So a perfectly ordinary post-referendum corporate row about FX-hedged input costs became, in the press, "Marmitegate". Front pages, talking heads, Question Time references, the lot. The currency was the story. Marmite was the picture. ## Marmite, of course, ended up winning The shelves were back inside a week. Tesco and Unilever did their grown-up deal in private. The jars returned to the shelves at a higher price, which is what would have happened anyway, just with less drama. And then the punchline. Sales of Marmite, the brand the press had spent a week shouting about, went up sixty-one per cent the following week. Three hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds in extra sales out of pure free publicity. There is a marketing director somewhere who has had a quiet career-long chuckle about that. ## What the episode actually showed Two real things, mostly. The first is that British supermarket supply chains are tighter than they look, and when a major supplier turns the tap off, you have days, not weeks, before the shelves go bare. The second is that even a brand like Marmite, which feels permanent, is at the end of a long chain of contracts and pricing negotiations that can go wrong without much warning. The Brexit-specific bit is mostly historical interest now. The pound is where it is, the wholesalers have done their re-pricing, the shelves are stocked. But the lesson, that a jar of yeast extract can become a national news story because of a row about wholesale margins, is still funny. ## A footnote The 2016 row is also the reason "non-core" being said about Marmite in the recent Grocer reporting (see the other article from this week) makes some of us nervous. Marmite is small enough for Unilever to walk away from, and big enough for the press to riot about. That is an interesting place to be. *Source: contemporary press coverage, October 2016. Reuters, FT, Grocer.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite is one of the longest-running memes on the internet - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-memes-social-media-trends - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-memes-social-media-trends.md - published: 2025-09-28 - document_id: 199 > Bartle Bogle Hegarty wrote "Love it or hate it" for Marmite in 1996. Twenty-nine years later, half the internet is still using it. That is the kind of longevity ad agencies dream of and almost never achieve. The reason it travelled is that it does not actually sell Marmite. ## A slogan from 1996 that the internet adopted Bartle Bogle Hegarty wrote "Love it or hate it" for Marmite in 1996. Twenty-nine years later, half the internet is still using it. That is the kind of longevity ad agencies dream of and almost never achieve. The reason it travelled is that it does not actually sell Marmite. It describes a kind of opinion. Once you have a phrase that captures a feeling neatly, the phrase escapes the brand and goes off to do work elsewhere. So "a bit Marmite" gets applied to films, footballers, prime ministers, restaurants, fonts, sitcom characters, weather, modern architecture, and, on one memorable occasion, Will Smith. ## The meme formats There are roughly four recurring Marmite meme shapes that turn up on social media in some form most weeks: The first is the "I am Marmite" confessional, mostly from comedians, musicians and the occasional pop star, accepting that they are not for everyone and embracing it. Lily Allen did this in 2007 and the format has been borrowed ever since. The second is the toast photograph, posted with deliberate provocation: someone scraping Marmite on so thickly that the slice is almost black, captioned to enrage the haters; or alternatively someone applying a transparently thin smear, captioned to enrage the lovers. Either side will rise to the bait. The third is the cultural-comparison meme: "X is a bit Marmite", where X is anything from a Christopher Nolan film to a particular type of jeans, by way of one or two politicians along the route. The format is so worn that it has wrapped around to being charming again. The fourth, and probably the funniest, is the meme that mocks the meme. The "I have a controversial Marmite opinion" tweet, where the opinion turns out to be entirely banal. The joke is that Marmite has become such a meme that people parodically deploy it for opinions that are not divisive at all. ## What the brand has done about it To Unilever's credit, mostly stayed out of it. The Marmite social accounts will occasionally lean into the joke, but they have largely allowed the internet to do its own thing. That is the right call. The fastest way to kill an organic meme is for the brand to start trying to participate in it. Marmite has resisted that temptation more than most. The Hate Party will not be pleased to learn that the Love Party are winning the meme war by sheer volume. But that, again, is part of the joke. ## Why this is a small marvel Most advertising language is forgotten the day after the campaign ends. "Love it or hate it" survived because it described something the language did not have a word for, and once it was loose, people kept finding new uses for it. Twenty-nine years on, it is one of perhaps a dozen advertising lines from the modern era that has properly entered the public vocabulary. Not bad for a jar that sells thirty million units a year on the back of one good sentence. --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite toasties are on the autumn menu boards - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/autumn-menu-innovation-marmite-toasties-uk-cafes - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/autumn-menu-innovation-marmite-toasties-uk-cafes.md - published: 2025-09-25 - document_id: 198 > According to the latest Bakery Info roundup, Caffè Nero, Costa, M&S Café, Pret and Starbucks are all running Marmite-based toasties this autumn. Not as a fringe special at one branch, but as proper autumn menu items printed on the boards. ## The high street has finally noticed According to the latest Bakery Info roundup, Caffè Nero, Costa, M&S Café, Pret and Starbucks are all running Marmite-based toasties this autumn. Not as a fringe special at one branch, but as proper autumn menu items printed on the boards. Five of the biggest names on the high street, all in the same season. This is not new for any of us at home. The Marmite-and-cheese toastie has been a thing in British kitchens for as long as anyone can remember. What is new is that the procurement and product-development teams at the big chains have all looked at the same focus-group data and arrived at the same conclusion: Marmite is no longer too divisive for a menu board. ## Why this is the right time of year for it The autumn menu cycle is when the chains stop pretending people want salads and start admitting they want something hot and savoury at lunch. Marmite goes in beautifully here. The yeast extract intensifies under heat, the salt cuts through the cheese, and the toaster does the rest of the work. The most obvious format is the Marmite-and-cheddar. The slightly less obvious format is Marmite-and-mushroom, which is the one to order if you see it. Either of these on sourdough at one in the afternoon, with the weather doing its September-in-Britain thing outside, is a real comfort. ## What is actually happening on the menus Caffè Nero have something with a fancy Italian name on it. Pret are doing a Marmite-and-cheddar toastie that is, by all accounts, a very straight read of the home version. M&S Café have a Marmite cheese melt that has been on a soft trial since spring and seems to have survived. Costa's involvement is on the bakery side, with a Marmite cheese twist. Starbucks, surprisingly, are running a Marmite focaccia. The Pret one is the one I would expect to do best, mostly because Pret are very good at executing a small idea cleanly and not over-engineering it. ## The bigger pattern If you read this alongside the Joe & Seph's popcorn deal earlier this month, the Morrisons Marmite Mac 'n' Cheese, the Marmite cheddar sandwich at M&S, and the various Marmite-laced snacks now in supermarkets, what you are looking at is a brand that has quietly broken out of the breakfast cupboard. For most of its life Marmite was a jar on a shelf. Now it is also a sandwich line, a popcorn flavour, a ready meal, a butcher's sausage, and a cafe toastie. None of those products needed Marmite. Each chose Marmite because Marmite does a specific umami job that nothing else quite replicates. That is more interesting than another own-brand range extension. ## Anyway If you spot a Marmite toastie on a high street menu and you are even slightly Marmite-curious, give it a try. The chains will only keep these on the boards if they sell. Voting with your lunch budget is how we keep this run going. The Hate Party are welcome to the cheese-and-tomato. *Source: Bakery Info autumn 2025 menu roundup.* --- ================================================================================ ## London loves Marmite, Glasgow really does not - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-regional-divide-uk - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-regional-divide-uk.md - published: 2025-09-20 - document_id: 197 > Consumer surveys have repeatedly shown the same pattern. In London and the south-east, roughly six in ten people say they either love Marmite or are happy to eat it. In Scotland and the north of England, that figure drops to closer to three in ten. The midlands sit somewhere between. ## The split, in numbers Consumer surveys have repeatedly shown the same pattern. In London and the south-east, roughly six in ten people say they either love Marmite or are happy to eat it. In Scotland and the north of England, that figure drops to closer to three in ten. The midlands sit somewhere between. The eastern counties, including Norfolk where I live, lean to the loving side, but more quietly. That is a properly large gap for a single food product. It is bigger than the gap for most other British store-cupboard staples, and it has been stable across a couple of decades of survey work. ## What probably explains it Three honest guesses, none of them complete. The first is just brand exposure. Marmite was always heavier on advertising spend in the south. The big-budget TV-era campaigns ran nationally, but the press, the outdoor, and the agency-pitched stuff was disproportionately London-skewed. A generation that grew up seeing more Marmite in front of them grew into adults who buy more Marmite. The second is taste tradition. Northern English and Scottish breakfast cultures sit slightly differently to southern ones. Where the south has settled around toast-and-Marmite as a normal weekday breakfast, the north has historically had more savoury options at breakfast already, so the toast-spread market splits more between butter, jam, and not much. Marmite is competing for a slot that is already filled. The third is the price-per-jar question. Marmite is more expensive per gram than most spreads, and the price-conscious shopper passes it over for own-brand jam or chocolate spread. Regional income variation goes some way to explaining why the further-north markets buy less of the premium-end of the spread aisle, and Marmite sits at the premium end whether the marketing department wants to admit it or not. ## What the pattern is not It is not, despite what every "regional divide" piece on the internet tells you, a culture-war thing. Glaswegians who say they hate Marmite are not making a political statement about southern softness. They have simply not been brought up on it. The same shoppers will happily eat Bovril, which is structurally a similar product, because Bovril sat better with the existing regional taste habits when both brands were establishing themselves. So the Marmite map of Britain is mostly a map of which households put Marmite on the toast in 1965 to 1995, plus a bit of pricing. Most "regional preference" stories turn out to be that, eventually. ## A small Norfolk note Eastern England is interesting on this. We are not a high-loving region, but we are a stubbornly loyal one. Per-capita Marmite consumption among people who eat it is among the highest in the country, even though the proportion of households eating it sits in the middle of the table. We do not have many lovers, but the ones we have are committed. I do not know what to do with that data point, except to nod and pass the toast. *Source: aggregated YouGov and Kantar consumer surveys; Mintel category reports.* --- ================================================================================ ## M&S have put Marmite in the Christmas caramel sauce - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/ms-christmas-2025-marmite-caramel-festive-range - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/ms-christmas-2025-marmite-caramel-festive-range.md - published: 2025-09-17 - document_id: 196 > M&S have done the unthinkable and put Marmite into a Christmas dessert range. ## A Marmite caramel sauce, in the M&S Christmas catalogue M&S have done the unthinkable and put Marmite into a Christmas dessert range. Two products, both for the food-to-order list: - a Caramel Sauce with Marmite, 310g, around £3 - Pecan and Salted Caramel Blondies with Marmite, 185g, around £5 The caramel sauce is the more obvious one, in the sense that salted caramel has been a thing for years and Marmite is, fundamentally, a more interesting source of salt and umami than crystalline sodium chloride. The blondies are the unhinged one. Both are landing on shelves and food-to-order menus around the end of November. ## Why the caramel sauce is almost certainly going to work The reason salted caramel is everywhere is that a small amount of salt makes the sweetness of caramel taste sweeter, by giving the tongue something to push against. Marmite carries salt, but it also carries roasted glutamates, which is what gives mushrooms, parmesan, soy sauce and seaweed their savoury depth. Drop a teaspoon of Marmite into a caramel base, and you get a sauce that reads as salted caramel, but with a longer back-of-the-tongue umami note that ordinary salted caramel does not have. Restaurant pastry chefs have been doing this quietly for at least a decade. The Marmite-caramel ice cream pairing has done the rounds at every food festival since about 2014. M&S putting it in a jar at three quid is not a brave experiment, it is a delayed catch-up. ## Why the blondie is the brave one A blondie is a vanilla brownie. Sweet, buttery, slightly caramelised at the edges, no chocolate to hide behind. The pecan and salted caramel version is already sitting at the limit of how sweet you would want it. Adding Marmite to that, even in trace amounts, is more ambitious than the sauce, because you can taste it directly rather than as a backnote in something molten. The bet M&S are making is that the blondie has enough sugar and enough butter that the Marmite reads as depth rather than as Marmite. If they have nailed the dose, this will work. If they have not, the blondie will go down in M&S product-development history alongside the chilli chocolate everyone remembers fondly but nobody actually finished. I would, frankly, try it. ## The food science footnote Marmite is a fermented yeast extract, full of the same Maillard-reaction compounds that caramel develops when sugar browns. At the molecular level the two products are already cousins. That is the real reason the combination works at all, and the reason M&S can put both into a jar and on a counter and expect the people who buy them to be quietly delighted. ## The Hate Party will not be pleased The Hate Party will, of course, see the words "Marmite" and "caramel sauce" in the same sentence and consider it a hate crime against pudding. They are wrong, but their position is at least internally consistent, and we should respect that. For the rest of us, this is the most interesting thing M&S have put in the Christmas catalogue for a couple of years. If the sauce shows up in your local branch, get one. Pour it over vanilla ice cream. If you are still hungry, get the blondies too. *Source: M&S Food Christmas 2025 food-to-order range, via the Sun and Scottish Sun coverage.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite is doing a 50-year retrospective, which is weird because the jar is 123 - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/celebrating-50-years-of-marmite-innovation-partnership - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/celebrating-50-years-of-marmite-innovation-partnership.md - published: 2025-09-15 - document_id: 195 > Marmite has published a 50-year anniversary interview this month, which is the sort of brand-PR exercise that I would normally skim and ignore, except that there is a small problem with the maths. Marmite was first sold in 1902. It is one hundred and twenty-three years old. ## Fifty years of what, exactly? Marmite has published a 50-year anniversary interview this month, which is the sort of brand-PR exercise that I would normally skim and ignore, except that there is a small problem with the maths. Marmite was first sold in 1902. It is one hundred and twenty-three years old. So the 50 years is not the brand itself. Reading the press piece carefully, it is fifty years of a particular Unilever-era partnership arrangement and a connected design and innovation programme, dating back to the mid-1970s. That is a real thing and worth marking. It just needs the word "partnership" in the headline to make sense, and the press release does not quite do that. This is the kind of thing the fan-site sector is for. Untangle the marketing language, then tell you what the actual story is. ## What is actually worth your time Two things, more than the headline. First, the design archive. The Marmite jar has had real graphic-design love over five decades. The 1970s label, the 1980s "British Cuisine" range styling, the 1990s "Love it or hate it" rebrand by Bartle Bogle Hegarty, the various Diamond Jubilee, Olympic, Elton John Pride, and World Cup specials. Lay them out chronologically and you have an unusually good visual history of British packaging design at the consumer end. Some of those collector-edition jars now go for proper money on eBay. Second, the run of brand collaborations. From the inside, Marmite has been one of the more interesting British brands at picking partners. The Walkers Marmite crisps in 2008. The Cathedral City cheese collaboration. The Joe & Seph's popcorn this month. Each one was a small, careful experiment. None of them turned out to be a one-season stunt. That is unusual for a heritage food brand, and credit to whoever has been holding the line on which deals to do and which to politely decline. ## The bit I personally remember I should be in there too. I did tonnes of stuff for Marmite from its 100th anniversary until life got too hectic ;) The 2002 centenary was genuinely a different scale of celebration to anything they have done since. There was a big presence at the BBC Good Food Show, a fan-club tier that I was, embarrassingly, a paid-up member of, and a run of media coverage that put the brand into colour supplements that ordinarily would not have touched a yeast extract. The 50-year version of this press piece is, by comparison, a much quieter thing. That is not a criticism. Brands do not get to throw a centenary every decade. But if you are reading the anniversary copy and wondering why it does not feel like a proper bells-and-whistles birthday, that is why. The bells were spent in 2002. ## Where to read the original If you want the interview itself, it is on the Marmite press site, easy enough to find. It is the usual brand-anniversary read: smooth, slightly euphemistic, gives you almost no concrete numbers, but the design-archive references are real and the collaborations list is accurate. The next genuine birthday is the 125th, in 2027, by which time McCormick may or may not own the brand. That one will be the proper one to watch. --- ================================================================================ ## Tim Spector says Marmite is good for your gut, sort of - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/science-backs-the-jar-tim-spector-marmite-gut-health - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/science-backs-the-jar-tim-spector-marmite-gut-health.md - published: 2025-09-10 - document_id: 194 > Tim Spector, the professor of genetic epidemiology at King's College London who runs the Zoe nutrition app, wrote a piece in the Independent this month listing the fermented foods he thinks are worth eating regularly. ## Spector, the Independent, and the zombie-microbe line Tim Spector, the professor of genetic epidemiology at King's College London who runs the Zoe nutrition app, wrote a piece in the *Independent* this month listing the fermented foods he thinks are worth eating regularly. Kimchi, kefir, sauerkraut, all the usual suspects, and a slight surprise at the bottom of the list: Marmite. He calls the yeast cells in Marmite "zombie microbes", which is the kind of phrase that makes a nutrition column readable. The yeast is dead by the time it reaches the jar, but the proteins, cell wall fragments and B vitamins are still there, and there is some emerging research suggesting that even dead-yeast material can interact usefully with the live bacteria already in your gut. ## What he is actually claiming, and what he is not The claim is modest and worth being precise about. Spector is saying that Marmite belongs in the broad category of fermented foods that, eaten regularly in normal amounts, seem to be associated with a healthier gut microbiome and slightly better self-reported wellbeing. He is not claiming Marmite cures anything, replaces a balanced diet, or has the same effect as live fermented foods like kefir. The evidence he is drawing on is from the Zoe citizen-science trials, which are large but self-reported. People who eat more fermented food generally feel slightly better, report less bloating, more energy, and a slightly improved mood. Whether the Marmite specifically is doing the work, or whether Marmite eaters are also kefir eaters and kimchi eaters and the whole effect is from the diet pattern, is harder to tease apart. That is the honest version. The headlines around the piece have been less careful. ## The B12 bit is rock solid What is not in any doubt at all is the B12. Marmite contains a serious dose of vitamin B12 in a small spoonful. B12 is one of the genuinely tricky vitamins to obtain from a non-animal diet, which is why vegans tend to keep a jar of Marmite on the shelf permanently. The Zoe gut-microbiome angle is the new and slightly speculative bit. The B12 contribution to a plant-based diet is well-established and was true long before anyone called yeast cells zombies. ## A small note on Zoe For the people who instinctively distrust anything that comes with an app attached: Spector's academic work is independently strong, and the Zoe trials are real research, even if the commercial app side is, well, an app. He has been doing this for decades and his name is on a lot of properly peer-reviewed twin studies and nutrition papers. I would take what he says about food and gut health more seriously than most of the people in the wellness space. ## The takeaway If you already eat Marmite, carry on. You are now eating a fermented food, which is officially a fashionable thing to do, on top of the historical "B vitamin source" reason that has been true since 1902. If you do not already eat Marmite, the gut-health angle is not, on its own, a good reason to start. The good reason to start is that it is delicious on toast. The gut-health thing is a bonus. If you really do not like Marmite, do not force yourself. Eat the kimchi. The gut microbiome does not mind which fermented thing you choose. *Source: Tim Spector, the Independent, September 2025; Zoe published trial data.* --- ================================================================================ ## Is Marmite actually British? The German invention behind the very British jar - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-british - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/is-marmite-british.md - published: 2025-09-09 - document_id: 687 > Marmite is the most British thing in the cupboard, and the invention behind it is not British at all. The discovery that brewer's yeast could be turned into an edible savoury extract was made by a German chemist, Justus von Liebig. Britain did not invent Marmite. It commercialised someone else's idea, brilliantly, in 1902. If you had to name the single most British thing in an ordinary kitchen cupboard, Marmite would be on the shortlist. It is made in Burton-on-Trent, it has divided the nation for over a century, it carried a royal warrant until recently, and the Queen was said to love it. And yet the invention at the bottom of all that Britishness was German. That is the fact that genuinely stops people. ## Britain did not invent yeast extract The idea that you could take the spent yeast left over from brewing beer and concentrate it into a thick, savoury, meaty-tasting and entirely vegetarian paste did not come from Burton, or anywhere in Britain. It came from the German chemist Justus von Liebig, one of the giants of nineteenth-century science, who worked out that brewer's yeast could be concentrated, bottled and eaten. The whole category, the thing in the jar, is his. Liebig is one of those names that turns out to be behind half the food cupboard once you start looking. His work on extracts of all kinds shaped a wave of late-Victorian products, and the savoury-extract idea he set going led, in different hands and different countries, to a small family of dark, salty, intense spreads and drinks. Marmite is the most famous survivor of that family. But the founding idea was a German chemist's, not a British grocer's. ## What Britain actually did So what is the British bit? The business. The genius of turning a scientist's discovery into a product people would buy, argue about and miss when they travel. In 1902 the Marmite Food Extract Company was set up in Burton-on-Trent, and that is the moment Marmite as we know it begins. The choice of Burton was the clever part. The town was the brewing capital of Britain, home to Bass and a quarter of the nation's beer, which meant an endless free supply of exactly the spent yeast Liebig's process needed, right on the doorstep. Britain did not have the idea. Britain had the breweries, the commercial nerve and, as it turned out, the national temperament to make the idea into an institution. That is a real distinction. Marmite is a British product built on a German invention, using the by-product of British beer. All three of those things are true at once, and only the middle one ever makes it onto the label. ## German idea, British jar, American future The twist on top of the twist is where the story is heading. Marmite was invented, in concept, by a German. It was made British in 1902 and has been fiercely British ever since. And it is now on its way to being American: in 2026 Unilever agreed to sell its food business, Marmite included, to the American company McCormick. The most British thing in the cupboard started as a German discovery and is ending up, ownership-wise, in the United States. So, is Marmite British? As a product, a brand and a national habit, completely. As an invention, not in the slightest. It is one of the great examples of Britain doing what Britain has often done best, which is take someone else's clever idea and turn it into something the whole country feels it owns. For why Burton specifically, there is a piece on [why Marmite is made there](/articles/why-marmite-is-made-in-burton-brewing-capital), and for where the ownership goes next, there is [who owns Marmite now](/articles/who-owns-marmite). ================================================================================ ## If you are vegan, Marmite is doing real work - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-vegan-vegetarian-essential - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-vegan-vegetarian-essential.md - published: 2025-09-05 - document_id: 193 > If you are vegan, your single hardest nutrient is vitamin B12. It is found almost exclusively in animal products, and it does real work: nerve function, red blood cell production, DNA synthesis. ## The B12 problem, and why Marmite is part of the answer If you are vegan, your single hardest nutrient is vitamin B12. It is found almost exclusively in animal products, and it does real work: nerve function, red blood cell production, DNA synthesis. A deficiency creeps up slowly and the symptoms are vague (tiredness, brain fog, peripheral nerve symptoms) which is why it sneaks up on people who have been vegan for years and assume their diet is fine. Most committed vegans take a B12 supplement, which solves the problem. But food sources matter too, because they are easier to stick to and they show up consistently in daily meals. Marmite is one of the few non-supplement food sources that delivers B12 in a meaningful dose. A single teaspoon, spread thinly on toast, contributes a noticeable chunk of the recommended daily intake. Not the whole thing, but a real contribution. That is the entire reason vegan households disproportionately keep a jar of Marmite in the cupboard. ## The other B vitamins, briefly Marmite is also a useful source of B1 (thiamine), B2 (riboflavin), B3 (niacin) and B9 (folate). All of these are reasonably available in a varied plant-based diet, but Marmite delivers them in a concentrated form that makes the daily numbers easier to hit. Nothing about Marmite is magic. It is just a particularly dense delivery vehicle. ## The umami trick, separately The nutritional case is one half of the answer. The other half is that Marmite happens to be a properly useful umami ingredient in a vegan kitchen. The thing that meat does for a stew or a gravy is, mostly, contribute glutamates and a long savoury back-note. Marmite has glutamates by the bucketload. A teaspoon stirred into a mushroom gravy, a lentil shepherd's pie, or a tomato-based pasta sauce gives you the depth that omnivore cooks would normally pull out of beef stock or anchovies. Used like this, Marmite is genuinely transformative. The reason the famous Nigella Marmite spaghetti recipe works for everyone (vegan or not) is that the umami is doing the work that a parmesan rind or a piece of bacon would otherwise do. Plant-based cooking has been using Marmite as a secret weapon for as long as plant-based cooking has existed. ## What to use it in Stews, gravies, soups. Brush it on tofu before roasting. Add a teaspoon to a vegetable stock. Stir it into vegan cheese sauce. Mix it with vegan butter or olive oil for an instant umami spread. None of these are tricks, they are just ways of getting the most out of a small jar. The classic application is still the right one: a thin layer on hot buttered (or vegan-buttered) toast. If you are new to it, start there. ## The salt caveat, again Marmite is salty. A teaspoon a day is fine for almost everyone. A tablespoon a day is too much. The dose is the answer to most "is Marmite healthy" questions. ## The vegan-jar check The classic black-lid Marmite jar is vegan. The squeezy version is vegan. The peanut butter Marmite is vegan. Some of the very limited-edition collaborations have been less clear (a couple of cheese-laced specials, for instance), so check the back of any unfamiliar one. But the standard jar you reach for is fine. *Sources: Marmite ingredient list; the Vegan Society on B12; British Dietetic Association.* --- ================================================================================ ## How Marmite is actually made: the yeast that eats itself - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/how-marmite-is-made-yeast-autolysis - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/how-marmite-is-made-yeast-autolysis.md - published: 2025-09-02 - document_id: 490 > Marmite starts as the spent yeast left over from brewing beer. Salt makes the yeast cells digest themselves, the husks are sieved out, and what remains is a thick brown paste full of natural glutamates. The science of the jar, in plain English. Most people know that Marmite has something to do with beer. Fewer know that the jar is, in the most literal sense, made of yeast that has been persuaded to eat itself. It is a slightly gruesome process for such a comforting product, and once you understand it the spread makes a lot more sense. Here is the whole thing, start to finish, without the chemistry-lesson dread. ## It begins at the brewery Brewing beer leaves a lot of spent yeast behind. For centuries this was a low-value by-product, and the clever bit of Marmite, going right back to the founding of the Marmite Food Extract Company in 1902, was spotting that the leftover could be turned into food. The town of Burton-on-Trent was chosen precisely because it was one of the great brewing centres of the country, which meant surplus brewer's yeast in industrial quantities, cheaply, on the doorstep. The jar and the pint have been linked from the very first day. ## Salt, and a kind of self-destruction To turn yeast into yeast extract, you make the yeast destroy itself. This is called autolysis, and the trigger is salt. Add enough salt to a suspension of yeast and the solution becomes hypertonic, which is a tidy way of saying the water inside the cells is pulled out and the cells shrivel. Under that stress the yeast's own digestive enzymes switch on and start breaking the cell's proteins down into much simpler pieces, mainly amino acids and the building blocks of nucleic acids. The yeast, in effect, digests itself from the inside. Heat is then used to finish the breakdown and stop the process. It sounds violent, and it is, but it is also exactly what gives Marmite its character. One of the amino acids released is glutamic acid, the natural form of the thing better known as monosodium glutamate. That free glutamate is the source of the deep savoury hit, the umami, that makes a teaspoon of Marmite do so much work in a stew or on toast. ## Sieving out the bits Yeast cells have tough walls, and nobody wants a gritty spread, so the husks are filtered out. What you are left with is the smooth, soluble, intensely savoury liquid, which is then concentrated down into the thick paste you know. Salt for flavour and preservation, a little vegetable extract and spice, and the B vitamins that have been added since the 1930s, and the jar is essentially complete. ## The Liebig footnote None of this was invented in Burton. The science of treating yeast and meat as concentrated food goes back to the German chemist Justus von Liebig in the nineteenth century, whose work underpins the whole family of extracts, Marmite and Bovril included. Liebig died in 1873, decades before the first jar, with no idea that his chemistry would one day end up dividing British breakfast tables. The heat-and-autolysis method that bears his fingerprints is still the basic approach behind almost every yeast extract on the shelf. So the next time someone tells you Marmite is an acquired taste, you can tell them what it actually is: brewing waste, talked into eating itself, sieved, and concentrated into one of the most efficient flavour delivery systems in the kitchen. It does not sound appetising for a second. It is also completely brilliant. ================================================================================ ## Marmite around the world: New Zealand, South Africa, Vegemite, and why none of them are British Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-global-variations - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-global-variations.md - published: 2025-08-30 - document_id: 192 > Yeast extract spreads are a small global family. They are all built from the same trick: take leftover brewer's yeast, autolyse it (let the cells digest themselves with their own enzymes), and concentrate the result. ## The family, briefly Yeast extract spreads are a small global family. They are all built from the same trick: take leftover brewer's yeast, autolyse it (let the cells digest themselves with their own enzymes), and concentrate the result. What comes out is a dark, salty, B-vitamin-rich paste, the exact character of which depends on which yeast you started with, which beer-style brewery you took it from, and what your country thinks counts as "savoury". Below, in rough order of seriousness, are the major members of the family. I am, for the record, partisan. British Marmite is the original and the best. The others are mostly interesting deviations. ## Marmite (UK) The original. Made in Burton-on-Trent since 1902. Made from Bass brewery yeast, which historically gave it its particular character; the brewery is gone but the lineage continues. Soft, slightly sweeter than the antipodean spreads, more rounded, intensely savoury without being aggressive. Designed to be spread thinly. Anyone in this family who tells you Marmite is the bland one has not had it. ## Marmite (New Zealand) A different product. Made in Christchurch by Sanitarium under licence. The recipe diverged a long time ago and is now distinctly its own thing: thicker, darker, slightly sweeter, less complex. Many New Zealanders grew up on it and are loyal to it. That is fine, but it is not the same product. Have you ever *tried* Kiwi Marmite? It is fine. It is not the British one. This is one of the small confusions of the Marmite family. Two products, same name, different recipes, owned by different companies, on opposite sides of the world. Causes a lot of unnecessary internet arguments. ## Vegemite (Australia) The famous rival. Developed in Melbourne in 1922 by Cyril Callister after the First World War made British Marmite hard to import. Thicker, saltier, more aggressive, with a distinct bitter edge. Now owned by Bega Cheese (since 2017). Vegemite is properly Australian in a way the Aussies take seriously. A national food, not a spread. It is not the same as Marmite. People who say "Vegemite is just Australian Marmite" have not eaten both with attention. Different beast. ## Promite (Australia) The other Australian yeast extract, much less famous, sweeter than Vegemite (added sugar in the recipe), thinner texture, less salt-forward. Owned by Mars these days. Invented in the 1950s. Worth trying if you find Vegemite too intense and you want a softer entry point. Or just buy Marmite, which already exists and is better. ## Cenovis (Switzerland) The Swiss one. Made since 1931. Lighter colour, slightly milder flavour, fairly close in character to softer interpretations of Marmite. Loved by older Swiss-Germans, less commonly seen in the rest of the country, almost never exported. If you find a tube on a holiday in Lucerne, get it for novelty. ## Vitam-R (Germany) The German one. Vegan, organic, slightly less salty than the British or Australian spreads, more of a health-food-shop product than a supermarket one. The German organic-supermarket chain Alnatura stocks it as standard. Pleasant if you like a milder yeast extract. ## Vegex (United States) Almost extinct. A vegetable-and-yeast-based spread that has survived in small American health-food circles since the 1920s, mainly associated with Seventh-Day Adventist communities. Hard to find. If you see it, buy it for the novelty. ## A note on the so-called South African Oxo spread You will sometimes see "South African Oxo spread" listed as a yeast extract. Technically true, except the South African version also contains a small portion of beef extract, which makes it not really a yeast-extract spread in the strict sense. More of a savoury cousin. Worth being clear about, because it is not vegan if you go looking for it. ## So which one wins? The British one, obviously. I am not pretending to be neutral, this is the British Marmite fan site. But if you want a slightly more grown-up answer: - For depth and balance: Marmite UK - For raw aggression: Vegemite - For something sweeter: Promite - For mildness and a holiday souvenir: Cenovis - For "I am in a German organic shop and curious": Vitam-R The whole family exists, broadly, because someone in each country looked at British Marmite and thought "we should have one of these". They mostly did. None of them did it better. *Sources: Wikipedia, the Spruce Eats, manufacturer websites, my own jars.* --- ================================================================================ ## A NASCAR rookie has called Marmite \"vomit in a can\" - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/nascar-rookie-calls-marmite-vomit-in-a-can - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/nascar-rookie-calls-marmite-vomit-in-a-can.md - published: 2025-08-28 - document_id: 191 > Shane van Gisbergen, the New Zealand-born racing driver currently doing rookie season in NASCAR (and doing it surprisingly well, let me say), went on The Rock's Morning Rumble in Auckland last week and was asked, in a rapid-fire round, his opinion of Marmite. ## The quote Shane van Gisbergen, the New Zealand-born racing driver currently doing rookie season in NASCAR (and doing it surprisingly well, let me say), went on The Rock's Morning Rumble in Auckland last week and was asked, in a rapid-fire round, his opinion of Marmite. His exact words: "vomit in a can." Lovely. A racing driver delivers commitment to the bit at 200 miles an hour, and apparently also at the breakfast table. ## Two small problems with the quote First, Marmite does not come in a can. It comes in a glass jar, and has done since 1902. So already we are off to a slightly shaky start, factually. Second, and more importantly: he is a Kiwi. He grew up on Sanitarium-made New Zealand Marmite, which is sweeter and thicker than the British original (have you ever *tried* Kiwi Marmite?). He has also, presumably, eaten his share of Vegemite, which is the actual antipodean spread that the Brits have spent a hundred years gently mocking. So when Shane van Gisbergen says he hates Marmite, what he really means is "I hate Sanitarium NZ Marmite, possibly also Vegemite, and have not at this point in my life had a serious encounter with the proper British jar". Which is the polite British way of saying the man's whole hate-Marmite premise is built on the wrong product. ## What this is, properly This is the rare case of a celebrity Marmite-hate quote where the celebrity is not actually hating Marmite. He is hating one of Marmite's cousins. That makes it actually less interesting than the genuinely-hostile celebrity quotes from people who definitely have tried the British one and still consider it a war crime. (See Madonna in 2014, who definitely had eaten the British one and described it as "vile". That was a real Marmite-hate moment. This one is more of a misidentification.) ## A standing offer Shane, if you ever happen through London on a sponsor week, the offer is this: a proper jar of British Marmite, a toaster, a knife, some good butter, and a piece of sourdough. No tablespoon-sized scoops. A thin scrape. Done correctly, the way it has been done since you were not yet born. If you still hate it, fair play, but you will at least be hating the right product. The Hate Party will be disappointed to lose you, but the Love Party can survive without you. In the meantime, congratulations on the rookie season. The Mexico City road course was genuinely impressive. *Source: The Rock's Morning Rumble, Auckland, 27 August 2025.* --- ================================================================================ ## Cocktails with Marmite in them, briefly and honestly - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-cocktails-unexpected-twist - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-cocktails-unexpected-twist.md - published: 2025-08-25 - document_id: 190 > For the last few years there has been a small but persistent trend in higher-end cocktail bars of using Marmite as a savoury cocktail ingredient. ## The bartender's secret ingredient that nobody asked for For the last few years there has been a small but persistent trend in higher-end cocktail bars of using Marmite as a savoury cocktail ingredient. The logic is sound: Marmite is concentrated umami, umami works in cocktails the same way it works in food, and the more interesting bars are running out of obvious savoury options. Whether any of the results are worth ordering is a separate question. Below, an honest field guide. ## The Marmite Bloody Mary: yes, obviously This is the only no-brainer in the category. A Bloody Mary is already a savoury cocktail, the tomato juice already carries umami, the celery salt and Worcestershire are already doing variations on the same theme. A quarter-teaspoon of Marmite, dissolved in a splash of hot tomato juice and stirred back into the cocktail, makes a Bloody Mary that is properly long and properly savoury without tipping into "salty water". This one works. Order it if you see it. ## The Marmite Old Fashioned: surprisingly yes The one I genuinely did not expect. The bourbon Old Fashioned is built on caramelised brown sugar, bitters, and orange peel. Marmite plays in roughly the same flavour register as caramelised sugar (back to the Maillard-reaction point again), and a tiny amount stirred into the syrup before the whiskey goes in gives the drink a longer, slightly meatier finish. I had this at a bar in Hoxton a couple of years ago and it changed my mind on the whole category. If you see a Marmite Old Fashioned, try it. If the bartender has been heavy-handed it will be terrible, but if they have the dose right it is genuinely interesting. ## The Marmite Martini: no, generally A dry martini is gin or vodka and almost nothing else. The whole architecture is icy alcohol and a single aromatic note. Adding Marmite to that is like adding marmalade to a glass of chilled white burgundy. You can do it. You will not enjoy it. Some bars are doing a Marmite-rimmed martini glass instead, which is fractionally less awful, because at least you can choose how often to engage with the rim. But mostly: no. ## The Marmite Espresso Martini: actively bad Espresso martinis are already too sweet for some people and too coffee-y for others. Adding Marmite gives you a third axis of "and also salty", which means the drink now has three competing things shouting at the tongue, none of which is winning. Hard pass. ## The Marmite-rimmed glass: a cheat Salt-rimming a margarita is a respectable tradition. Marmite-rimming a savoury cocktail is, frankly, a cheat. It lets the bar claim it has a Marmite drink without actually having to integrate the flavour into the cocktail. The rim is intense, the drink underneath is whatever you ordered with no Marmite in it at all, and the two have an awkward conversation across each sip. I have seen this done well exactly once, with a Marmite-and-celery-salt rim on a particularly herbaceous gin cocktail. Otherwise it is the bar phoning it in. ## The home cook's version If you want to try this at home, the entry point is the Bloody Mary. Make your usual recipe, dissolve a small piece of Marmite (about the size of a pea) into a tablespoon of hot tomato juice, stir it back into the cocktail. That is the entire trick. Adjust salt accordingly, because Marmite is already salty and you do not need additional seasoning. The rest of the category is the bartender's problem, not yours. ## Anyway The savoury cocktail movement is mostly a good thing. It has given us better Bloody Marys, the occasional excellent Old Fashioned, and a generation of cocktail bars willing to try something other than another aperol spritz variant. Marmite has earned a small place in that movement. Not a starring role, not the headline act, just a useful supporting ingredient in the right hands. --- ================================================================================ ## Why is Marmite called Marmite? The French pot on the label - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/why-is-marmite-called-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/why-is-marmite-called-marmite.md - published: 2025-08-19 - document_id: 686 > Marmite is named after the picture on its own label. A marmite is a French cooking pot, and the spread was first sold in little earthenware versions of one in 1902. The pot stayed on the jar long after the jar stopped being a pot. And the French word itself has a much stranger past: it once meant a hypocrite. The answer to why Marmite is called Marmite has been printed on every jar for over a century, and almost nobody has noticed it. It is the little picture in the middle of the label: a round, bulging, lidded pot. That pot is a marmite, and the spread is named after it. ## A marmite is a cooking pot Marmite is a French word for a large covered cooking pot, the deep earthenware or metal kind you would leave simmering a stew or a stock in all day. Nothing to do with the spread at first. Just a pot. The connection is delightfully literal. When the Marmite Food Company started up in Burton-on-Trent in 1902, the spread was sold in small earthenware containers shaped like a French marmite, little pots with that same bulging, lidded form. So the product was, quite simply, named after the thing it came in. You bought a marmite of Marmite. The earthenware pots gave way to glass jars in the 1920s, and the rest of the jar has barely changed since: the same squat bulging shape, the same red and yellow, the same picture. But the picture is now a small monument to a packaging decision everyone forgot. The pot on the front of your jar is a drawing of the original pot the jar replaced. The spread kept the portrait of the container it outgrew. ## The stranger story behind the word The pub-fact version gets better the deeper you go. The French word marmite did not start life meaning a pot. The traditional etymology traces it back through Old French to a word for a hypocrite. The logic, as it is usually told, is rather wonderful: a covered pot hides what is bubbling away inside it, the same way a hypocrite hides their real nature behind a calm lid. The pot that conceals its contents took the name of the person who conceals their character. Word historians are a little cautious about how solid that derivation really is, and you will see it described as charming but not certain, so treat it as the traditional account rather than gospel. But it is too good not to know. Which gives Marmite a name with an almost suspiciously fitting double meaning. The spread that splits the nation into people who love it and people who cannot abide it, the one thing nobody is honestly neutral about, is named, at one remove, after a word for someone who is not quite what they seem. You could not invent it. ## So, the short version Marmite is named after the French cooking pot it was first sold in, and the pot is still drawn on the label as a memento of those original 1902 earthenware versions. Dig one layer deeper and the French word for that pot once meant a hypocrite, on the grounds that a lidded pot keeps its secrets. For the taste that earns all the strong feelings, there is a piece on [why Marmite tastes the way it does](/articles/why-does-marmite-taste-like-that), and for the word's other modern life, as an adjective for anything divisive, there is [the meaning of 'a bit Marmite'](/articles/a-bit-marmite-meaning). ================================================================================ ## The Marmite jar has flat sides, which is not news - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-jar-flat-sides-revelation-packaging-design - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-jar-flat-sides-revelation-packaging-design.md - published: 2025-08-17 - document_id: 189 > Last week, the internet collectively discovered that the Marmite jar has flat sides, and you can lay it on its side, and this makes it easier to scrape out the last bits. Greg James called it life-changing on Radio 1. The clip went around TikTok. The Marmite press office got a small flurry of calls. ## The "discovery" Last week, the internet collectively discovered that the Marmite jar has flat sides, and you can lay it on its side, and this makes it easier to scrape out the last bits. Greg James called it life-changing on Radio 1. The clip went around TikTok. The Marmite press office got a small flurry of calls. This is fine. The trick works. Lay the jar on its side, gravity pools the residual Marmite at the bottom (which is now the flat side), and you can get a clean scrape with a butter knife at an angle you cannot achieve when the jar is upright. The thing the internet has not quite registered is that this is not why the jar has flat sides. ## Why the jar has flat sides Glass jars on pallets stack better when they are square or have flat sides. They do not roll. They take up less wasted air in the case. They break less during shipping. They sit on the shelf without rolling forward. This is not Marmite-specific. Look in your kitchen cupboard. Jack Daniel's, square. Hendrick's, square. HP Sauce, flat-sided. Gordon's, square shoulder. Cointreau, square. Most spice jars, square or hexagonal. The reason is always the same: getting through the supply chain in one piece. Marmite has had flat sides since the modern jar was introduced. It is not a recent design innovation. It is not a secret feature wired in by clever Burton engineers thinking about your breakfast. It is bog-standard industrial design. ## So why has it gone viral now Honest answer: TikTok needed a thing to be amazed about, and "lay your Marmite jar on its side" is exactly the kind of mid-difficulty domestic tip that produces good engagement. It is satisfying to watch, it makes the viewer feel slightly cleverer than they were a minute ago, and it costs them nothing to share. None of that means it is not a useful tip. It is. Just stop calling it a "revelation". ## The actually useful tips for an almost-empty jar While we are here, the things that genuinely help with the bottom of a Marmite jar: A wider butter knife reaches more surface area. Use the proper one, not a thin steak knife. A few minutes in a basin of warm water (lid off) softens the residue and makes it spreadable rather than scrapable. If you are about to make gravy, soup or a stew, splash a tablespoon of hot water into the jar, seal it, shake it for a few seconds, and pour the resulting Marmite-water straight into the pan. You will get every last molecule out and the dish will be the better for it. Or just buy the squeezy bottle, which Marmite already makes specifically to solve the extraction problem. Three pound fifty. The jar is for keeping in the cupboard and looking right. ## Marmite's response, if you missed it The Marmite press office gave a polite "yes, you can do that, the jars were also designed for sensible packaging" reply, and reminded everyone the squeezy version exists. The right answer. They did not pretend the flat sides were a deliberate end-user feature, but they also did not stop anyone enjoying the moment. There is a thing brands do where a piece of internet enthusiasm lands in their lap and they wreck it by trying to "engage" with it. Marmite chose not to. Credit. ## Anyway If you didn't know about the flat-side trick, now you do, and it does work. If you did know about it, you have spent the last week being mildly smug. Both are valid uses of a Wednesday. Pass the toast. --- ================================================================================ ## Why Marmite is made in Burton: how the spread became a Midlands accident - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/why-marmite-is-made-in-burton-brewing-capital - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/why-marmite-is-made-in-burton-brewing-capital.md - published: 2025-07-21 - document_id: 493 > Marmite is made in Burton-on-Trent for one practical reason: it was the brewing capital of Britain, with roughly a quarter of the nation's beer and a mountain of spare yeast. The jar exists because of the pint, and it always has. People assume Marmite comes from Burton-on-Trent for some deep heritage reason, as though the town has always had a special relationship with savoury spreads. It has not. Marmite is made in Burton for a reason as practical as it gets: in 1902 the town was sitting on more spare brewer's yeast than anywhere else in the country, and somebody finally worked out what to do with it. ## The brewing capital By the end of the nineteenth century, Burton-on-Trent was the brewing capital of Britain, and it was not close. The town had around thirty breweries running at once, and between them they accounted for something like a quarter of all the beer made in the country. The water did it. Burton's water is naturally high in the mineral salts, gypsum especially, that suit pale ale, so much so that brewers elsewhere started "Burtonising" their own water to copy it. At the centre of all this was Bass, founded in the town in 1777. By 1877 Bass was the largest brewery in the world, turning out a million barrels a year, its red triangle eventually becoming Britain's first registered trade mark. A town brewing on that scale produces an enormous amount of one particular by-product: spent yeast, left over once the beer is made, and for centuries treated as near-worthless. ## The bright idea The science of turning that leftover yeast into food had been worked out on the Continent, building on the nineteenth-century chemistry of Justus von Liebig, who showed that yeast could be concentrated into something nourishing and savoury. What Burton had that the chemists did not was the raw material, by the tankerful, going cheap. So in 1902 the Marmite Food Extract Company was formed in the town, and the by-product yeast for the very first jars was supplied by Bass. The logic is almost comically simple. You make Marmite where the spare brewer's yeast is, and the spare brewer's yeast was in Burton, because the beer was in Burton. The jar is, quite literally, built from the bottom of the brewing industry. ## Why it still matters More than a century later the factory is still there, on the same town's industrial edge, and Marmite is still made from brewer's yeast. The brewing landscape around it has shrunk a great deal since Bass ruled the world, but the link between the pint and the jar never broke, which is exactly why the 2020 lockdown, when the pubs shut and the breweries slowed, briefly threatened the supply of Marmite as well. It is a good thing to know the next time someone tells you Marmite is an ancient British institution. It is British, and it is well over a century old, but it is also a clever piece of recycling that happened in one Staffordshire town because that town happened to make more beer than anywhere else. Burton did not choose Marmite. Marmite chose Burton, because that was where the yeast was. ================================================================================ ## The M&S Marmite pizza outsold the Margherita - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/ms-launches-marmite-pizza-and-mac-and-cheese-range - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/ms-launches-marmite-pizza-and-mac-and-cheese-range.md - published: 2025-07-10 - document_id: 188 > In its first week on shelves, the new M&S three-cheese Marmite pizza outsold the standard M&S Margherita. The Margherita has been an M&S Food fixture for, what, twenty years? The Marmite pizza had been on sale for seven days. That is a properly good launch number. ## The headline In its first week on shelves, the new M&S three-cheese Marmite pizza outsold the standard M&S Margherita. The Margherita has been an M&S Food fixture for, what, twenty years? The Marmite pizza had been on sale for seven days. That is a properly good launch number. The full range is three products: the wood-fired three-cheese Marmite pizza, a Marmite mac and cheese ready-meal, and crispy Marmite mac bites. All exclusive to M&S Food and Ocado. It is the sixteenth M&S × Marmite collaboration since the partnership started in 2020, and one of the more ambitious. ## Why the pizza works The trick on the pizza is that the Marmite is on the base, brushed thin over the dough before the cheese goes on. It is not stirred into the tomato sauce, it is not drizzled on top, it is doing structural duty as a savoury underlayer that you mostly notice as depth rather than as a separate Marmite hit. Three cheeses (mozzarella, cheddar, parmesan or similar; the actual blend has been quietly tweaked over the trial runs) on top, baked hot enough for the dough edges to char properly. The first bite tastes like a very good white pizza. Bite three or four, the Marmite starts to register, but as length-of-flavour, not as "oh, there's Marmite". That is the right way around. For a launch product this is unusually well-judged. M&S's product development team have clearly spent a long time getting the dose right. ## The mac and cheese, and the mac bites The mac and cheese is the more obvious play. Marmite stirred through a cheese sauce works the way you would expect, and the M&S version is solid. Not the most adventurous thing they have ever made, but reliably good comfort food. The mac bites are the surprise of the range. Small balls of mac and cheese, breaded, deep-fried. The Marmite hit comes through more sharply here because the surface area is higher and the crispy shell concentrates the savoury notes. These are dangerous. You will eat the whole tray. ## Why this matters as a product launch The interesting thing here is not the products themselves. It is what they suggest about the direction of Marmite-licensed development. The previous decade of Marmite collaborations were mostly novelty spreads, snacks, and a few crisps. The new direction, of which this range is the clearest example, is "Marmite as an umami ingredient in proper meals you actually buy for dinner". The M&S Marmite pizza is not a novelty product, it is an alternative pizza. The mac and cheese is not a stunt, it is a Tuesday-night dinner with a small twist. Get this right and Marmite stops being a shelf in the spreads aisle and becomes a flavour profile that turns up in the chiller cabinet, the bakery aisle, and the ready-meal section. That is a much larger commercial footprint. ## What to buy first The pizza, obviously. Around five quid, large enough for one hungry person or two if you have a side salad. The mac bites, second, because they will be the surprise of your week. The mac and cheese is fine and will hold its own as a midweek meal, but you can probably skip it if you are not a ready-meal person. All three are M&S Food and Ocado only. Worth a Saturday trip. *Source: M&S Food, July 2025 launch; Marmite × M&S press release.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite has made a popcorn slab - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-popcorn-slab-boldest-snack-innovation-2025 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-popcorn-slab-boldest-snack-innovation-2025.md - published: 2025-06-25 - document_id: 187 > In late June, a limited-edition Marmite popcorn slab arrived on supermarket shelves. Imagine a flat bar, roughly the size of a thick chocolate slab, made of caramelised popcorn fused together with a Marmite glaze. You break a piece off and eat it as you would a flapjack. Stupid idea, on paper. ## The slab In late June, a limited-edition Marmite popcorn slab arrived on supermarket shelves. Imagine a flat bar, roughly the size of a thick chocolate slab, made of caramelised popcorn fused together with a Marmite glaze. You break a piece off and eat it as you would a flapjack. Stupid idea, on paper. Surprisingly good, in the hand. ## Why it works The popcorn carries the Marmite the same way the Joe & Seph's popcorn bag carries it (see the article from earlier this autumn), which is by giving the yeast extract a neutral, airy vehicle. The slab format adds a second trick: the Marmite is baked into the surface caramel, so it browns alongside the sugar, picking up Maillard-reaction depth in a way that drizzled Marmite never quite manages. The result tastes more "popcorn brittle with savoury edge" than "Marmite snack". The savoury notes sit underneath. The crunch comes first. The umami comes second. The salt is well-judged. The proportion of Marmite to caramel to popcorn has clearly been worked out by someone who has thought about it for more than an afternoon. ## Who is it for Marmite lovers, obviously. Anyone who likes salted caramel and is willing to take the next step into properly-savoury-caramel. Cinema-snack people. People who quite enjoy a snack that is, structurally, a flapjack but tastes nothing like a flapjack. Not for: the Hate Party, who will recoil from the smell of the wrapper. Anyone who finds the texture of caramelised popcorn unpleasant (it sticks in the teeth like a normal bar of caramel popcorn does). ## The format question Slab snacks are having a moment, mostly on the back of the Dubai chocolate craze of 2024 and the broader "TikTok food" trend of an absurdly photogenic break-and-pull product. The Marmite slab is squarely in that lineage: it is designed to look good when you snap it in half on camera. It also tastes good, which is a fairer bonus than most viral foods can claim. The limited-edition framing is, I suspect, the brand's way of testing whether this category works. If it sells out faster than the production runs replace, we will see a second batch by the autumn. If it sits on shelves through July, the slab will quietly disappear and that will be that. I would bet on the second batch. ## Where to find it, while you can The usual suspects. Tesco, Sainsbury's, Waitrose, Asda. Smaller convenience shops have been carrying it sporadically. Unilever's official Marmite shop also had a small allocation. Limited editions disappear quickly, so if you see it and you have not tried it, get it. If you wait a fortnight and they are all gone, do not say I did not warn you. --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite Peanut Butter is back, nine months after Unilever killed it - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-peanut-butter-triumphant-comeback-2025 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-peanut-butter-triumphant-comeback-2025.md - published: 2025-06-19 - document_id: 186 > Marmite Peanut Butter is back on shelves. ## The U-turn Marmite Peanut Butter is back on shelves. Unilever quietly dropped it last September with the usual "changing shopper preferences" line, then quietly brought it back this month after nine months of complaints, petitions, and the kind of social media noise that the brand insists it does not respond to but evidently does. It is back in Tesco, Sainsbury's, Co-op, Ocado, at the same 225g tub, for around £3 to £3.50. Same recipe, same label, same product. Welcome back. ## Why it deserved to come back Marmite Peanut Butter, for the uninitiated, is exactly what it sounds like: peanut butter with Marmite mixed through it. Sounds horrible, works beautifully. The peanut butter softens the Marmite's sharper edges, the Marmite carries the peanut butter's slightly cloying sweetness back to the savoury side, and the resulting spread is one of the more genuinely useful things in your toast options. It is also a properly good cooking ingredient. A spoonful into a satay sauce gives it depth that plain peanut butter does not have. Stirred into noodles with chilli oil and a splash of soy, it is a five-minute lunch. The 2019 launch was one of the better Marmite spinoffs. So losing it last autumn was a small bereavement for the people who actually used it. ## Why Unilever pulled it in the first place The boring corporate answer: SKU rationalisation. Large CPG companies are constantly killing off products that fall below an internal volume threshold, and Marmite Peanut Butter, being slightly niche even within Marmite's user base, was probably bumping along just under whatever the internal cutoff was. The slightly less boring answer: somebody on the team had not realised quite how loud the user base would be. The Peanut Butter Marmite community is small but absolutely committed, and they spent the autumn explaining at considerable length on social media why the discontinuation was wrong. ## What this tells us Three small things. First, that Unilever do read the complaints. Whatever the brand reps tell you about being driven by spreadsheets, a coordinated audience can change a decision. This is genuinely useful to know. Second, that this cycle (launched 2019, killed 2024, back 2025) is fast in CPG terms. Most failed products do not come back. This one did, in nine months, which means somebody was already nervous about the discontinuation when they made it. Third, that the Marmite brand is sitting in an interesting place. With the parent company looking at "non-core" classifications (see [the non-core classification story](/articles/marmite-future-under-scrutiny-unilever-portfolio-focus)), the bits that need stronger user loyalty are the bits worth protecting. Reinstating a niche product nine months after killing it is, I would guess, partly about reminding everyone that the brand has a genuine fan base, not just a wholesale order book. ## What to do about it Buy a tub. Eat it. If you genuinely use it, buy a second tub for the cupboard, because the bigger lesson of the past nine months is that the next time Unilever decides to "rationalise the portfolio", this is the kind of thing that goes. A jar bought is a vote cast. Vote for the peanut butter. *Source: Unilever press, June 2025; Tesco, Sainsbury's, Ocado availability data.* --- ================================================================================ ## Is Marmite brain food? What the 2017 York study really found - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-gaba-brain-study-2017-york - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-gaba-brain-study-2017-york.md - published: 2025-06-17 - document_id: 491 > In 2017 the headlines said Marmite was good for your brain. The actual University of York study was 28 people, a teaspoon a day, and a measurable change in brain activity the press cheerfully oversold. What the research did and did not show. Every so often a study comes along that Marmite's marketing team could not have written better themselves. The University of York's brain research in 2017 was one of those, and for a week the papers were full of the idea that a daily spoonful was making the nation cleverer. The truth is more modest, more interesting, and worth getting straight, because "Marmite is good for your brain" is not quite what the scientists said. ## What they actually did The York team, led by researchers including Daniel Baker and Anika Smith, ran a small randomised trial. Twenty-eight people ate either a teaspoon of Marmite or a teaspoon of peanut butter every day for a month. The peanut butter group were the control. Throughout, the volunteers wore a non-invasive cap of electrodes that measures electrical activity in the brain, while looking at a flickering striped pattern on a screen, a standard way of measuring how strongly the visual part of the brain responds. The result: the Marmite eaters showed roughly a 30 per cent reduction in their brain's electrical response to that visual stimulus, compared with the peanut butter group. The work was published in the Journal of Psychopharmacology in April 2017. ## What it means, and what it does not Here is the part the headlines skated over. A reduced response is not obviously "better". The researchers linked the effect to GABA, a chemical messenger that calms neural activity down, turning the volume of the brain's responses down rather than up. The likely driver was Marmite's high level of vitamin B12, which the body uses in making GABA. A more tightly regulated, less jumpy visual response is associated with healthy brain function, which is why this is a genuinely interesting finding. But "your brain reacts less to a flickering pattern" is a long way from "Marmite makes you smarter", which is roughly where the tabloids parked it. And the study itself was careful to stay small. Twenty-eight people is not a population. The effect was measured weeks after eating, hinting at something that builds up rather than a quick hit. The authors did not claim Marmite prevents anything, treats anything, or boosts anything. They found a measurable, repeatable change in brain activity tied to a nutrient Marmite happens to be loaded with, and they said so plainly. It was the rest of us who reached for the word "superfood". ## So should you eat it for your brain? Eat it because you like it. A teaspoon of Marmite is a real and useful source of B12, which matters, especially for vegetarians and vegans who can struggle to get enough, and B12 genuinely is involved in keeping the nervous system working properly. That is a fair, grounded reason to keep a jar in the cupboard. What you should not do is treat one neat little study from 2017 as a doctor's note. The York research is a lovely example of how a careful, honest piece of science gets dressed up into a health miracle by the time it reaches the front page. The scientists measured a calmer brain response. Everyone else heard "Marmite makes you brainy". Both the lovers and the haters, for once, were given exactly the headline they wanted. ================================================================================ ## The final Elton John Pride jar, and a million quid for the AIDS Foundation - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-unveils-final-pride-jar-elton-john-aids-foundation - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-unveils-final-pride-jar-elton-john-aids-foundation.md - published: 2025-06-16 - document_id: 185 > Marmite has just put out the fourth and last in its limited-edition Pride jar series with the Elton John AIDS Foundation. The 2025 jar is themed around I'm Still Standing , Elton's 1983 single, and it carries off the run with the strongest design of the four. ## The fourth and final jar Marmite has just put out the fourth and last in its limited-edition Pride jar series with the Elton John AIDS Foundation. The 2025 jar is themed around *I'm Still Standing*, Elton's 1983 single, and it carries off the run with the strongest design of the four. The series went: *Goodbye Yellow Brick Road* (2023, for the album's 50th anniversary), *Rocketman* (2024, for the film), Dodger Stadium 1975 (2024 second-half), and now *I'm Still Standing* (2025). Four jars, four references to landmark Elton moments, three years and a bit of running. ## The money This is the bit that genuinely matters. Across the four-year partnership, Marmite has paid the Elton John AIDS Foundation one million pounds. Unconditionally. Meaning not "ten pence per jar", not "matched to sales", but a flat million quid as a charitable donation, contractually unrelated to whether the jars sold one unit or a million units. That is unusual for a brand collaboration. Most "buy this jar, we donate" campaigns are structured so that the brand mostly profits and the charity mostly waits. Marmite's structure here is the opposite: the money flows whether the jars sell or not. The jars themselves are the visibility, and the visibility funds the awareness, but the headline donation is decoupled from the till. EJAF do the prevention, testing, treatment, and support work that the NHS and equivalents around the world cannot or do not. One million pounds is real money to them. Worth saying clearly. ## The jar itself Design-wise, the *I'm Still Standing* jar is the best of the four. The label leans into rainbow colour blocks behind a stylised piano-key motif and the song title in a slightly hand-drawn serif. Less literal than the *Yellow Brick Road* one, less photo-referential than the *Rocketman* one. Better than the Dodger Stadium one, which was busy. This one feels confident. It is the same Marmite inside (do not be a Marmite snob about limited-edition jars, the contents are the contents), three quid, available at all the main supermarkets. Collector's market will push the price up within a year. Buy one to use, buy a second for the cupboard. ## The art installation Worth flagging separately: Marmite have done a thing at Eccleston Yards in London with the artist Ashton Attzs called *We're Still Standing*, a large-scale piece built around real personal stories of people EJAF has supported. It is up through Pride season. If you are in the area, go and see it. It is more substantial than the brand-tie-in PR usually warrants. ## What the partnership leaves behind Three things, in rough order of importance. The million for EJAF, paid in cash, no strings, no quarterly KPI gating. Real impact, in real lives. A four-year visible association between a heritage food brand and a long-standing LGBTQ+ charity, in an era where that association is not safe ground for every brand and where some have quietly retreated from it. Marmite did not retreat. Credit. And four genuinely good jars in collectors' kitchens, which will be on eBay listings for the next twenty years and will keep the partnership alive in small private conversations about what the labels meant. For a brand campaign, that is a properly good legacy. *Source: Marmite × Elton John AIDS Foundation press, June 2025; ejaf.org for the Foundation's work.* --- ================================================================================ ## When M&S was hacked, Tesco started delivering them Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-hero-ms-cyber-attack-tesco-rescue - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-hero-ms-cyber-attack-tesco-rescue.md - published: 2025-06-12 - document_id: 184 > In late April 2025, Marks & Spencer's IT systems were taken out by a ransomware attack. Online orders went down. Inventory management went down. The internal supply chain went down. ## The ransomware attack, briefly In late April 2025, Marks & Spencer's IT systems were taken out by a ransomware attack. Online orders went down. Inventory management went down. The internal supply chain went down. For roughly two months, M&S was running its food halls on manual workarounds and paper-based stock control, which is not how a modern supermarket is supposed to work. The financial damage was very real. Around three hundred million pounds in lost operating profit, according to the public estimates. Among the costliest retail cyber-attacks in British history. ## The Tesco intervention The interesting bit, and the bit that surprised the retail trade press, was Tesco's response. Tesco's wholesale arm, Booker, started delivering essential branded products into M&S stores to keep the shelves stocked while M&S got its systems back up. Two products were specifically called out as priority items in the trade press: Coca-Cola and Marmite. Tesco's CEO Ken Murphy described it as a "short-term emergency measure". Which, fair enough, but it is also unusual. Tesco and M&S are competitors. Booker is set up to supply convenience stores and independents, not the food hall of the rival down the road. The fact that the arrangement happened at all, and happened quickly enough to keep stock on M&S shelves, says something about how the British retail sector quietly cooperates when one of its members is down. ## Why Marmite specifically This is the bit fans of the jar will quietly enjoy. Marmite was deemed essential enough to ship across enemy lines. There were probably twenty product lines on the priority list, and we only saw the headline ones. But the headline ones are revealing. Coca-Cola makes obvious sense, because it is the single most-sold branded soft drink in the country and an empty Coca-Cola shelf gets noticed within minutes. Marmite is more interesting. It is not the highest-volume product in the food hall by any stretch. What it is, is a product that loyal shoppers will quietly cross to a different supermarket for if their usual stockist runs out. That is the threat. Marmite shoppers are not casual. If you go to M&S for your Marmite and it is not there, you do not switch to a different spread. You go to Sainsbury's. The Tesco-via-Booker shipment was protecting against exactly that kind of customer drift. ## What this tells us about the brand Three things, briefly. First, the trade view of Marmite is consistent with the consumer view. It is small but loyal. The volume is modest, but the user attachment per unit volume is unusually high. That is the kind of brand position you want. Second, Marmite has the kind of distribution footprint where the question "will Tesco supply Marmite to M&S?" actually had a workable answer, because the supply chain behind the jar is fundamentally one and the same. Unilever sells to both. Booker can pull from the same warehouse that supplies independents. The product moved through existing pipes. Third, and a little more speculatively, the fact that the press wrote up the Marmite angle as the story is itself a brand asset. Coca-Cola has bigger problems than getting Marmite-style human-interest coverage out of a ransomware response. Marmite gets to be the underdog hero of a story about retail resilience. That is the sort of thing the marketing department gets for free. ## A small note on the broader point The M&S attack is also a quiet reminder that modern supermarket supply chains are more fragile than they look. Just-in-time logistics is wonderful until somebody encrypts the database. The Marmite-on-Tesco-trucks-into-M&S story is a small piece of a much larger story about cyber risk in retail that the sector is, mercifully, taking more seriously than it did this time last year. M&S are mostly recovered now. Marmite is back through their normal supply chains. The Tesco arrangement was, as Murphy said, short-term emergency. But the next time someone tells you Marmite is "just a spread", remember that when British retail had to choose what was essential enough to truck through an emergency, the jar made the list. *Source: trade press, May to June 2025; Tesco public statements; M&S earnings disclosure.* --- ================================================================================ ## How Much Salt Is in Marmite? (And Is It Bad for You?) - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/a-salty-situation-understanding-marmite-sodium-content-health - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/a-salty-situation-understanding-marmite-sodium-content-health.md - published: 2025-05-09 - document_id: 183 > A teaspoon of Marmite (8g) holds about 0.8g of sodium, around 40% of an adult's daily limit. Here is what that means for your blood pressure, without the panic. ## The headline that did the rounds A health blogger spent the first week of May reporting that a single serving of Marmite caused a 26 per cent spike in their blood pressure. The piece travelled. Half the Marmite community panicked. The other half assumed it was nonsense. Both reactions were roughly half right. Let me unpack it properly. ## What is actually in a teaspoon A standard 8g serving (one teaspoon, spread thinly across a slice of toast) contains about 0.8g of sodium. That is roughly 40 per cent of the UK Recommended Daily Intake for adults. So Marmite is, factually, a high-sodium food. Nobody is going to argue with the chemistry. The argument is about whether 0.8g of sodium in a teaspoon-sized serving is a health issue or not. For most healthy adults eating Marmite a couple of mornings a week as part of an otherwise normal diet: no, it is not. For people with elevated blood pressure, kidney issues, or who are salt-sensitive (a real and individual thing): yes, it can be, and worth being thoughtful about. That, more or less, is the whole story. The 26 per cent spike is real and is also one data point in one salt-sensitive individual. It is not a population-level prediction. ## Why the salt is there in the first place Marmite is made by concentrating brewer's yeast extract. The process pulls B vitamins, glutamates and proteins into a thick paste. Salt is added partly as flavour, partly as preservative, partly because the yeast-extract concentrate, on its own, would not have the savoury punch that defines Marmite. The salt is doing structural flavour work, not just seasoning. You cannot, in other words, make low-salt Marmite without it being a noticeably different product. Which is why the existing Low Salt Marmite (yes, this exists, and yes, it has occasional supply problems) is genuinely a different recipe rather than just the regular product with the salt taken out. ## Who should actually worry Three categories of person should think about it carefully. First, anyone with diagnosed hypertension or who is on blood pressure medication. Talk to your GP about how Marmite fits into the daily sodium budget. The dose is the answer, and the dose depends on what the rest of your diet looks like. Second, anyone with kidney disease. The kidneys regulate sodium balance, and impaired kidneys are less good at it. Sodium-restricted diets are usually part of the management. Third, anyone who, like the health blogger, has noticed they are particularly salt-sensitive. Some people's blood pressure responds sharply to sodium. Some people's barely registers it. If you are in the first group and you know it, you already know what to do. For everyone else, a sensible attitude to Marmite is the same as a sensible attitude to anchovies, soy sauce, parmesan, or a piece of well-aged ham. Used in normal quantities as part of a varied diet, fine. Used as the basis of three meals a day, not fine. ## The "spread thinly" instruction is genuine advice There is a reason every Marmite jar has said "spread thinly" since the 1920s. It is not branding. It is the right amount. A thin scrape across hot buttered toast is what the product is calibrated for. A tablespoon-sized smear is too much, both flavour-wise and sodium-wise. If you are routinely eating a tablespoon of Marmite at a time, you have either decided you really love it (fair), or you have lost calibration and should restart from a thinner scrape (also fair). ## What the public health context actually is It is also worth being honest about where most of the sodium in the average British diet comes from. It is not Marmite. It is sliced bread (yes, really, more salt than you would think), processed meats, ready meals, takeaways, restaurant cooking, crisps, and a long tail of own-brand sauces. The total daily sodium contribution of one teaspoon of Marmite on toast is a rounding error in most people's daily intake. That does not mean Marmite gets a free pass. It does mean that the productive conversation about reducing your sodium is mostly about everything else in your diet, with Marmite as a small consideration in a long list. ## So what should you actually do If you are healthy, blood pressure is fine, no kidney issues: eat your Marmite. A teaspoon on toast a few times a week is unremarkable. If you are not sure about your blood pressure: get it checked. The NHS does this for free at most GPs and at many pharmacies. Once a year is enough for most adults. If you are diagnosed with hypertension: keep eating Marmite if you want to, but factor it into the daily sodium budget your GP or dietitian has discussed with you. If you are profoundly salt-sensitive and you have done the experiments and Marmite spikes your numbers: yes, eat less of it, or switch to Low Salt Marmite, which exists for exactly this reason. *Sources: NHS sodium guidance; British Heart Foundation on blood pressure; Marmite ingredient label.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite roast potatoes, in a bag, on the snack aisle - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-roast-potatoes-the-snack-innovation-no-one-saw-coming - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-roast-potatoes-the-snack-innovation-no-one-saw-coming.md - published: 2025-04-28 - document_id: 182 > Tesco are now stocking Marmite-glazed roast potatoes, as a snack, in a 350g bag, for £3.50. Whatever next. ## Sunday dinner in a bag Tesco are now stocking Marmite-glazed roast potatoes, as a snack, in a 350g bag, for £3.50. Whatever next. Properly, they are small chunks of roast potato (skin on, properly browned, the size of a small new-potato half) coated in a Marmite-and-butter glaze and bagged in the same crinkly foil-lined pouch you would expect for posh crisps. They sit in the snack aisle next to the Tyrrell's and the Pipers, priced like a premium nut bag. This is one of the more genuinely surprising Marmite spinoffs of the year. Crisps were obvious. Cashews were obvious. Mac and cheese was obvious. Roast potatoes, in a bag, on the shelf next to popcorn, were not obvious. ## What they actually taste like They taste, mostly, like a roast potato that has been brushed with Marmite-butter and given an extra few minutes in the oven to crisp up. Which is to say: very good. The Marmite is well-judged (the dose-control problem again, and they have nailed it), the skin is properly crisp, the inside is fluffy. They are recognisably the same flavour as the home-made version of "roast some potatoes, brush them with Marmite-butter for the last ten minutes", but in a portable, pre-cooked format. Texture-wise, they are denser than a crisp and lighter than a proper hot roast potato. Think of them as somewhere between a cocktail-snack potato and a tapas patata. Eaten warm (a couple of minutes in the oven) they are excellent. Eaten cold from the bag they are still good but the Marmite glaze is at its best when the potato is warm. ## What you actually do with them Three answers, in order of how likely you are to actually do them. Eat them straight from the bag like crisps. You will. They are designed for it. The 350g bag will not survive an evening of telly. Reheat them as a side dish for a quick midweek dinner. Five minutes in a hot oven, served alongside grilled chicken, lamb chops, or a sausage and onion gravy. They do the work of a proper roasted side without the hour of prep. Use them as the potato in a Tuesday-night Sunday-roast-mood meal. The combination of these, a bit of gammon, a poached egg and some greens is properly satisfying and takes about twelve minutes. You will not, despite the M&S-style serving suggestions on the back, take them on a picnic. They are too rich for picnic food. ## Will they last on shelves Limited editions in the Marmite catalogue have a roughly 50/50 hit rate. The Marmite XO faded. The peanut butter survived (and survived a discontinuation, see [its discontinuation and comeback](/articles/marmite-peanut-butter-triumphant-comeback-2025)). The hummus has held a small but real shelf presence. The popcorn slab is a slab, and slabs do what slabs do. The roast potatoes have the structural advantage of being a genuinely useful product, not just a novelty flavour. If the price-per-gram comes down a touch from £3.50 a bag, this becomes a regular shopping-list item. If the price stays where it is, it stays a treat. Either way, I would bet on a second batch by autumn. ## Anyway Buy a bag. Try them. If you have not already, you are about to discover that the home-made Marmite-roast-potato trick (which is the seasoning that turned my own roast dinners around about a decade ago) now comes in pre-made form, and is, surprisingly, almost as good as the one you would make yourself. The Hate Party will dismiss them. The Hate Party can eat their plain salted crisps and live in their grey, sodium-restricted world. We have roast potatoes in a bag. *Source: Tesco, April 2025; my own kitchen.* --- ================================================================================ ## Unilever is moving Marmite marketing to TikTok creators - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-goes-digital-influencer-marketing-strategy - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-goes-digital-influencer-marketing-strategy.md - published: 2025-03-10 - document_id: 181 > Unilever's CMO put out a statement in early March confirming what most of the trade press had already worked out. ## The strategy shift, briefly Unilever's CMO put out a statement in early March confirming what most of the trade press had already worked out. Marketing spend for a chunk of the British brand portfolio, Marmite included, is being moved out of traditional advertising channels (TV, print, outdoor) and into influencer partnerships and social-first content. Fewer thirty-second ads on Channel 4, more food creators on TikTok. For most heritage brands this would be a slightly nervous moment. For Marmite, it is actually the right call, for reasons that are worth being precise about. ## Why this works for Marmite specifically Marmite's entire commercial identity is built on personal opinions. The whole "love it or hate it" positioning is, structurally, a piece of user-generated content waiting to happen. Every Marmite first-time-trier post on TikTok is a free Marmite ad, paid for by the creator's audience and delivered with more credibility than any TV spot could ever manage. For thirty years, the brand's TV campaigns have been trying to make people talk about Marmite. Now there is a global platform where people talk about Marmite for free, twenty-four hours a day, in thirty-second clips, and the brand can simply lean into the conversation rather than trying to start one. Moving the budget to support that conversation, instead of paying TV agencies to simulate it, is the obvious move once you see it laid out. ## The risk, briefly The risk of influencer-led campaigns is always the same: pay too obviously for endorsements, and the audience smells it immediately. TikTok and Instagram users have spent five years learning to spot sponsored content, and a creator who looks like they are forcing a Marmite mention into otherwise unrelated content will lose more credibility than the brand gains. The way around this is to do what the smart brands have already worked out: find creators who genuinely already use the product, give them creative freedom rather than scripted ad reads, and accept that some of the resulting content will be off-brand or mildly chaotic. That last bit, accepting some loss of control, is the hard part for any large corporate marketing team. Marmite's advantage here is that the underlying product is already polarising and chaotic enough that off-brand content tends to land in a Marmite-shaped place anyway. A creator who hates Marmite making a video about hating Marmite is still doing the brand's work for it. That is the unusual position the jar sits in. ## What you will probably see A few predictable categories. Recipe creators using Marmite as a "secret ingredient" in adventurous dishes. The Nigella spaghetti and the Marmite ragu have both been TikTok formats for a few years. Expect more, with better production values and a small "in partnership with" disclosure that nobody really reads. First-time-trier reaction videos, mostly from American creators discovering the jar via their British partner. These are evergreen content, they have always existed organically, and the brand can now amplify the good ones. Cooking-tip and hack content: "the right way to make Marmite on toast", "how to use Marmite in your scrambled eggs", that sort of thing. These will be reliable mid-tier engagement and the bread-and-butter of the strategy. A handful of bigger collaboration moments, where Marmite partners with a creator on a one-off piece of content that gets pushed across the brand's own channels too. This is where the real production money will go. ## What it tells us about TV The Marmite shift is part of a much bigger shift across the Unilever portfolio and across the CPG sector generally. TV advertising spend is in long-term decline as a share of marketing budgets. Premium streaming services have made it harder and more expensive to reach the audiences brands used to reach on terrestrial broadcasters. The big creative campaigns of the 1990s and 2000s (which is, mostly, where the BBH "Love it or hate it" work sat) belong to an era that is finishing. This is not the death of TV advertising. There is still a place for big-budget brand-building work, particularly for heritage brands like Marmite that benefit from occasional reminders of their cultural presence. But the share of total budget is shrinking, and the new spending is going where the audience is, which is on their phones. ## The slightly sad note The thing this shift loses is the occasional truly great TV ad. The 1996 Bartle Bogle Hegarty "Love it or hate it" launch campaign was a piece of genuinely great advertising that shaped how British people talked about the brand for thirty years. TikTok has a lot of strengths, but it does not produce campaigns like that. It produces a thousand smaller moments instead. Whether the thousand smaller moments add up to the same cultural footprint is the question the marketing trade will be arguing about for the rest of this decade. For Marmite, given how well the brand sits in user-generated formats, the answer is probably yes. For brands with less natural conversational territory, the answer is going to be less clear. *Source: Unilever marketing comms, March 2025; Marketing Week and Campaign coverage.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite in the comfort-food repertoire, properly - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-british-comfort-food - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-british-comfort-food.md - published: 2025-01-01 - document_id: 180 > If you only eat Marmite on toast, you are using maybe a tenth of what the jar can do. The teaspoon trick is this: a small amount, stirred into something else, gives that other thing the long savoury back-note that a stock cube and a teaspoon of soy sauce together cannot quite manage. ## The teaspoon trick If you only eat Marmite on toast, you are using maybe a tenth of what the jar can do. The teaspoon trick is this: a small amount, stirred into something else, gives that other thing the long savoury back-note that a stock cube and a teaspoon of soy sauce together cannot quite manage. Once you have noticed it, you start finding places to put it. What follows is the comfort-food repertoire, in roughly the order I cook them through a winter. Not in priority order, just in the order they happen. ## Macaroni cheese This is the obvious one. A teaspoon of Marmite stirred into the cheese sauce before the macaroni goes in. The Marmite disappears into the cheese, the resulting sauce reads as a deeper, longer, more grown-up cheese sauce. It does not taste of Marmite. It tastes more of cheese. If you want to push it, stir a little extra Marmite into a few tablespoons of melted butter and toss the breadcrumb topping in it before baking. Properly transformative. ## Three-onion soup French onion soup made with three different onions (regular yellow, red, and shallot, slowly caramelised) is one of the best winter dinners. A teaspoon of Marmite stirred in towards the end, with a splash of madeira if you have it, replaces the dark beef-stock backbone that most onion soup recipes call for. Stilton or Gruyère on the crouton on top, under the grill. Done. ## Cheese and Marmite scones This is the one I make most often. A standard cheese scone recipe (self-raising flour, butter, grated cheddar, milk, salt) with two teaspoons of Marmite worked into the dough before the milk goes in. Bake hot, eat warm with more butter. These are slightly miraculous. The Marmite flavour is barely there as Marmite but the savoury depth is exactly what cheese scones need to stop being a bit one-note. Half the people you serve them to will ask what is in them. The other half will assume you bought them. ## Spaghetti with Marmite and butter Nigella's recipe, basically. Boil spaghetti. Drain, retaining a cup of pasta water. Melt a big knob of butter into the pan with a teaspoon of Marmite, splash in some of the pasta water to loosen. Toss the spaghetti through. Parmesan over the top. Five minutes from start to dinner. Cheap. Genuinely delicious. The plant-based version (vegan butter, no parmesan) is also excellent, see [the vegan kitchen note](/articles/marmite-vegan-vegetarian-essential) for the vegan kitchen note. ## Roast potatoes Brush par-boiled, oil-roughed potatoes with a teaspoon of Marmite dissolved in a tablespoon of melted butter for the last ten minutes of the roasting time. Crispier, glossier, deeper. Be careful with the timing because the Marmite will burn if it goes in too early. See [the Marmite-glazed vegetables recipe](/articles/marmite-glazes-roasted-vegetables) for the proper full version of the technique. ## Bubble and squeak This is the one that surprised me. Bubble and squeak is leftover mash and leftover cabbage fried together until brown, eaten with the leftover gravy. A teaspoon of Marmite stirred through the mash before frying gives the whole dish a savoury anchor that I had not realised it was missing. Add bacon if you have it. Egg on top, runny yolk. Sunday morning, sorted. ## Cheese, Marmite and bacon sausage rolls For when you have made the dough and you are looking for the next-level filling. Pork sausagemeat, a tablespoon of Marmite worked through, crumbled streaky bacon, grated cheddar, fresh thyme. Roll into puff pastry, brush with egg, bake. They go very fast. ## What this list is not It is not a recipe collection. It is a permission slip. The point of all of these is that Marmite is a kitchen ingredient and the jar belongs near the salt and the soy sauce, not at the back of the spreads cupboard. Once it lives there, you start reaching for it without thinking about it, and the things you cook get gently better. That, more or less, is the whole comfort-food argument. The toast is wonderful. The toast is not the limit. *Source: my kitchen; delicious magazine collected Marmite recipes; Nigella.* --- ================================================================================ ## A teaspoon of Marmite belongs in your soup - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-in-soups - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-in-soups.md - published: 2024-07-16 - document_id: 178 > If you have made a vegetarian soup that tasted thin, the answer was almost certainly a teaspoon of Marmite stirred in towards the end. Marmite is a concentrated lump of glutamates, the savoury compounds that give meat stock its meatiness. ## The cheat code If you have made a vegetarian soup that tasted thin, the answer was almost certainly a teaspoon of Marmite stirred in towards the end. Marmite is a concentrated lump of glutamates, the savoury compounds that give meat stock its meatiness. A small amount, dissolved in hot broth, gives a vegetarian or vegan soup the long savoury back-note that it otherwise has to work very hard to develop. It is the single most useful thing you can do to a winter soup that is not quite singing. ## Where it works best French onion soup is the most obvious one. The classic recipe relies on a strong beef stock for its dark depth. A vegetarian version made with vegetable stock plus a teaspoon of Marmite, stirred in five minutes before serving, holds its own against any beef-based version. Top with a sourdough crouton and a slice of Gruyère under the grill. Lentil soup is the next one. Lentils are filling but flavour-quiet. A teaspoon of Marmite stirred into a pot of green lentil soup with carrots and celery turns it from "fine" to "the soup I will actually want again tomorrow". Cauliflower and cheddar soup is the third. The Marmite anchors the cheese flavour and stops the cauliflower tasting like cauliflower water. A few Marmite-buttered croutons on top, properly excellent. Mushroom and potato soup, ditto. Anywhere you have an earthy vegetable that needs a longer back-of-the-tongue note than the vegetable can deliver on its own. ## Where it does not work Light, fresh, summery soups. Gazpacho. Cold cucumber soup. Anything where the brief is "bright and clean". Marmite will weigh those down and ruin them. Save it for the heavier, autumn-and-winter end of the soup spectrum. ## The dose A teaspoon for a pot of soup that serves four. Half a teaspoon if you have not done this before and you want to feel your way in. Stir it into a ladleful of hot broth first to dissolve, then back into the pot. Taste, then add a touch more salt if needed (the Marmite will already have done some of the salting work). That is the whole technique. --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite in sauces and dressings, properly - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-sauces-dressings - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-sauces-dressings.md - published: 2024-07-15 - document_id: 177 > This is the one that surprises people. A teaspoon of Marmite, dissolved in a tablespoon of hot water, whisked together with two tablespoons of olive oil, one tablespoon of white wine vinegar, and a teaspoon of Dijon mustard. Salt, pepper. ## The vinaigrette This is the one that surprises people. A teaspoon of Marmite, dissolved in a tablespoon of hot water, whisked together with two tablespoons of olive oil, one tablespoon of white wine vinegar, and a teaspoon of Dijon mustard. Salt, pepper. Use it on a green salad, a grain bowl, roasted vegetables, any robust salad that can take a heavier dressing. The Marmite gives it a savoury depth that ordinary vinaigrette never quite achieves. Particularly good over hot roasted vegetables (it almost glazes them as it hits the heat) and over a salad of bitter leaves like chicory or radicchio. This is the single most useful Marmite trick if you eat a lot of salad. ## The pasta water sauce A knob of butter melted with a teaspoon of Marmite in a hot pan, a splash of pasta water added to loosen, a generous handful of just-drained spaghetti tossed through, parmesan on top. Nigella did this years ago and is right. Five minutes. Cheap. Surprisingly good. The Marmite reads as deeply savoury parmesan, not as Marmite. Anyone who has not been told what is in it will not guess. ## The cheese sauce upgrade Standard cheese sauce is butter, flour, milk, grated cheese, mustard, salt. Add a teaspoon of Marmite to the milk before you make the roux, and the resulting cheese sauce is markedly better. Deeper, more rounded, longer on the tongue. Use it on macaroni cheese, cauliflower cheese, leek-and-potato bakes, anything that involves pouring a cheese sauce over a starch and baking it under a top of breadcrumbs. The Marmite makes the dish taste like a slightly better version of itself. ## The miso-Marmite dressing For grain bowls and grilled halloumi. A teaspoon of Marmite, a teaspoon of white miso, a tablespoon of rice vinegar, two tablespoons of sesame oil, a teaspoon of honey, a grated clove of garlic. Whisk together. Drizzle. This is the slightly fancier Marmite dressing if you are eating something that wants more depth than the basic vinaigrette can provide. Particularly good on grilled aubergine. ## The bread sauce twist A teaspoon of Marmite stirred into a classic bread sauce alongside the cloves and the bay leaf. Particularly good with roast chicken or roast turkey. Adds the savoury anchor that bread sauce can sometimes lack. A small intervention, a big improvement. ## The dose A teaspoon, in almost every case. The jar is a strong ingredient and the recipes above are calibrated around that. If you double the Marmite, you will tip the balance and the dish will taste of Marmite rather than of the dish it is supposed to be. Restraint is the trick. The exception is the bread sauce, where you can probably get away with a teaspoon and a half if you are using it for a serious Christmas dinner. That is the entire saucing repertoire. Add it to your kitchen. --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite sandwich combinations worth bothering with - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-sandwich-creations - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-sandwich-creations.md - published: 2024-07-14 - document_id: 176 > Marmite on hot buttered toast. That is the platonic form. Everything else is a variation. If you do not eat this regularly you do not really live in the Marmite world. Two slices of decent sourdough, properly toasted, salty butter, a thin scrape of Marmite. That is breakfast. ## The classic, briefly Marmite on hot buttered toast. That is the platonic form. Everything else is a variation. If you do not eat this regularly you do not really live in the Marmite world. Two slices of decent sourdough, properly toasted, salty butter, a thin scrape of Marmite. That is breakfast. What follows is the small list of sandwich variations that are worth the extra effort. ## Cheese and Marmite, toasted The grown-up toastie. Two slices of bread, a thin scrape of Marmite on the inside of one slice, mature cheddar grated thick, butter on the outside of both slices, toasted in a hot pan or under the grill until the cheese is properly melted and the bread is dark gold. The Marmite stops the cheese being one-note. The cheese mellows the Marmite. The toasted bread brings the whole thing together. This is the sandwich most people in the UK will already know about, but it is worth saying clearly: it is not a snack, it is a proper Saturday-afternoon lunch. ## Cucumber and cream cheese and Marmite This is the one nobody believes until they try it. Soft white bread, a thin layer of full-fat cream cheese on one side, a thin scrape of Marmite on the other, thinly sliced cucumber in the middle, salt, pepper, the lightest squeeze of lemon. Crusts off if you are feeling formal. The cream cheese tames the Marmite into a mild backnote. The cucumber adds cold crunch. The whole thing reads as a slightly more interesting version of an afternoon-tea cucumber sandwich, with the savoury depth that the original lacks. I would not have believed it either if a friend had not put one in front of me about a decade ago, and I have been making them for visiting parents ever since. ## Avocado, tomato and Marmite A modern brunch staple, but worth doing properly. Sourdough, toasted. A thin scrape of Marmite on the toast. Sliced avocado layered on top, sliced tomato over the avocado, a pinch of flaky salt, a grind of black pepper, a few chilli flakes if you like them. Done. The Marmite is the savoury floor of the sandwich, the avocado is the fat, the tomato is the acid. All three are doing distinct jobs. It is much better than plain avocado on toast, which is mostly just fat on toast. ## Cheddar and honey and Marmite, on a crumpet The most divisive one. A toasted crumpet, butter, a thin scrape of Marmite, a slice of sharp cheddar, the lightest drizzle of runny honey. Under the grill until the cheese melts. The honey-Marmite combination is the surprise. The salt-sweet axis is the same trick as salted caramel, but routed through cheese and crumpet rather than through sugar and cream. People who like the savoury-sweet thing will love this. People who do not will think it is heresy. Both reactions are valid. ## The bacon and egg breakfast roll A soft white roll, scraped with Marmite on the inside of both halves, filled with crispy streaky bacon and a soft-yolked fried egg. The Marmite is doing the work that brown sauce would otherwise do, and doing it better. Properly the best breakfast roll. Sunday-morning material. ## The dose, in every case A thin scrape. Always. A tablespoon of Marmite in a sandwich is a sandwich nobody can eat. A teaspoon at most, spread thin enough to read as a colour change on the bread rather than as a visible layer. The jar already labels this as "spread thinly" and the jar is correct. Anyway, that is the catalogue. Try the cucumber one. You will not believe me, then you will. --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite in puddings, which is less unhinged than it sounds - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-desserts - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-desserts.md - published: 2024-07-13 - document_id: 175 > Marmite in puddings sounds unhinged. It is not. ## The principle Marmite in puddings sounds unhinged. It is not. The savoury-sweet combination has been a respectable culinary move since the first chef stuck a piece of bacon on a maple-syrup pancake, and Marmite is structurally the same trick: a salty, glutamate-rich savoury element placed against a sweet element to make both more interesting. The reason it specifically works with chocolate and caramel is that Marmite's Maillard-reaction compounds (the same browning chemistry that caramel develops when you cook sugar) overlap heavily with chocolate and caramel's own flavour molecules. They are cousins at the molecular level. Putting them together is less of a clash than people expect. ## The brownie The starter project. Make a standard fudgy brownie. Whisk a teaspoon of Marmite into the melted butter before it goes into the chocolate. Bake as normal. The Marmite is undetectable as Marmite. What you taste is a brownie that has slightly more salt than usual and noticeably more depth. People will ask you what you put in it and refuse to believe the answer. If you want to push it further, make a caramel sauce (sugar, butter, cream) with a teaspoon of Marmite stirred in once it has come off the heat, and ribbon it through the brownie batter before baking. Marmite caramel brownie. Properly good. ## The ice cream A scoop of dark chocolate ice cream with a quarter-teaspoon of Marmite stirred through, frozen. The Marmite is just-perceptible as a savoury back-note that makes the chocolate taste more chocolatey rather than more Marmite-y. Particularly good as the cold side of a warm-pudding-and-ice-cream pairing. Tin & Thyme published the canonical Marmite-chocolate ice cream recipe a few years back, which is worth tracking down if you want to do it properly. ## The ganache A standard dark chocolate ganache (equal weights of dark chocolate and double cream, melted together), with a teaspoon of Marmite stirred in at the end. Use it to fill macarons, dip strawberries, sandwich whoopie pies, or pipe onto small biscuits. The Marmite adds a savoury edge that stops the ganache being aggressively sweet. This is the move that won the Marmite × M&S caramel sauce in the 2025 Christmas range a place on supermarket shelves. The principle is identical. If they can do it commercially, you can do it at home with a bowl of ganache. ## The M&S Christmas hint Speaking of which: M&S have, separately, launched a Marmite-caramel sauce as part of their 2025 Christmas food-to-order range (see [the M&S Christmas caramel range](/articles/ms-christmas-2025-marmite-caramel-festive-range)). If you want the lazy version of all of the above, that sauce drizzled over vanilla ice cream is the entire dessert. No baking required. ## Where it does not work Anything fruit-led. Apple pies, lemon tarts, summer berries, fruit fool. The savoury-sweet trick relies on the sweet side being substantial enough to take a savoury counter-punch. Light fruity puddings just get muddied. Save the Marmite for the chocolate-and-caramel end of the dessert menu. ## A note on quantities Halve everything the first time you try this. Marmite is potent. Two grams in a brownie batter is enough. Five grams is too much. The line between "deeper, better brownie" and "this brownie tastes of Marmite" is narrow and worth respecting. But yes, do try it. The first Marmite-chocolate-anything you eat will be a small revelation. The next twelve will be excellent puddings. --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite board games: every official board game licensed with the yeast extract jar - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-board-games - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-board-games.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 172 > Marmite, over the years, has produced or licensed three actual board and card games for the home market. None of them is going to make it onto the BoardGameGeek top hundred, but all three exist, and all three are genuinely on-brand in a way most licensed games are not. ## The official catalogue Marmite, over the years, has produced or licensed three actual board and card games for the home market. None of them is going to make it onto the BoardGameGeek top hundred, but all three exist, and all three are genuinely on-brand in a way most licensed games are not. In order of seriousness: ## Marmite Love It or Hate It A family-friendly party game where you try to guess which of your fellow players are Lovers and which are Haters, on various everyday questions (not all of them about Marmite). The Marmite branding is more of a framing device than a mechanic. The game itself is a perfectly serviceable round-the-table party game. You could play it at Christmas with relatives you do not see often, which is, structurally, the entire purpose of a party game. Inoffensive, mildly amusing, not actually about Marmite. The kind of thing that turns up at the back of a cupboard, gets played once, and is then there forever. ## Who Put the Marmite in the Fridge? A faster, more obviously themed card game. You match pairs of cards, but if you end the round holding the Marmite-jar card, you lose the round. The implicit joke is that you have, in the metaphor of the game, ruined the Marmite by putting it in the fridge. (For the record: yes, you can put Marmite in the fridge, but you absolutely do not need to. The salt content keeps it stable at room temperature for months and the cold makes it harder to spread. The fridge is for jam.) The game is short, snappy, works with children, and the rules can be explained in a minute. It is a good travel game, although the deck is slightly bigger than ideal for a coat pocket. ## The Marmite Truffle Game The genuinely chaotic one. A Russian-roulette-style game where players take chocolate truffles from a box. Most of the truffles are normal chocolate truffles. A few of them have a small amount of Marmite hidden inside. The unlucky players bite into one and find out. This is not really a game so much as a way of finding out which of your friends will react with grace to a savoury surprise and which will spit it across the room. As a social-engineering exercise it is unmatched. As a board game it is, structurally, a single round. It also requires you to actually trust that the Marmite truffles are accurately produced, which depends entirely on which limited-edition packaging run you happen to have bought. ## Why none of these are properly serious games Marmite is one of those brands where the licensed-product output is, by necessity, more about the brand presence than about the product quality. A serious board game from Marmite would be no more authentically Marmite than a serious board game from Coca-Cola or Heinz. The fun thing is that Marmite is on the box at all. What I would actually like to see is a Marmarati-style escape room, in which you progress through clues to be inducted into a fictional Marmite society. Marmite have not made one. They should. The 2010 Marmarati campaign already did most of the worldbuilding work for them. In the meantime, all three of the existing games turn up in odd shops, often on eBay, occasionally at car boot sales. None is essential. All are at least mildly funny to own. The Hate Party, of course, will not own any of them. The Hate Party's loss. *Source: Marmite Shop archive; eBay listings.* --- ================================================================================ ## Ma'amite, the Diamond Jubilee Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/maamite-jubilee-edition - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/maamite-jubilee-edition.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 171 > Marmite's marketing team are usually quite restrained. The name "Ma'amite" was the exception. Ma'am as in the way one addresses the Queen, mite as in Marmite. ## The pun Marmite's marketing team are usually quite restrained. The name "Ma'amite" was the exception. Ma'am as in the way one addresses the Queen, mite as in Marmite. A pun on the precise side of acceptable, in a context where almost any pun would land because the rest of the country was busy hanging out bunting. This was 2012. The Queen's Diamond Jubilee. The country was sixty years into the reign and decided to celebrate by having a bank holiday weekend, painting the Mall with crowds, running a flotilla down the Thames, and producing approximately every possible commemorative product the British retail sector could conceive of. Ma'amite was Marmite's contribution. ## The jar Properly nice. Red, white and blue across the label, in classic Union Jack composition. A gold crown sat in the place where the logo usually sits. The lid was red. The Marmite inside was the standard recipe, unchanged. Three hundred thousand jars were produced. That number is small enough to make the jars collectible now, and large enough that they were not entirely impossible to get hold of at the time. I bought four. Three are still unopened in the cupboard. The fourth I ate at the time, on toast, for the Jubilee weekend itself, with butter and a cup of tea, watching the river flotilla on the television. ## The wider context Marmite has a small but proper history of commemorative jars. Ma'amite. The two Olympic editions in 2012. The various Diamond, Sapphire and other anniversary jars across the decades. The Pride series with the Elton John AIDS Foundation. The recent Walkers and Cathedral City collaborations. The reason they keep working as collectibles is that the underlying jar is itself iconic. Most commemorative products age badly because the underlying product is forgettable. The commemorative Coca-Cola bottle from the 1996 Atlanta Olympics is interesting because Coca-Cola bottles are themselves interesting. The Ma'amite jar is interesting because Marmite jars are themselves interesting. There is no commemorative version of a forgettable brand that succeeds. ## What they are worth now A complete, unopened Ma'amite jar in good condition will currently fetch somewhere between twenty and forty pounds on eBay. Boxed-and-mint versions, with the cardboard outer sleeve some of them came in, can go higher. Not life-changing money, but a real return on a three-pound jar from 2012. If you have one in the cupboard, leave it there. The 125th anniversary of Marmite is in 2027, and the collectibles market for Marmite jars will tick up around that. *Source: Marmite 2012 release; eBay completed listings.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite does not, sadly, repel mosquitoes - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-mosquito-repellent-myth - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-mosquito-repellent-myth.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 170 > It goes like this. The B vitamins in Marmite, particularly thiamine (B1), are excreted through the skin in small amounts. Mosquitoes find the smell of thiamine unattractive. Therefore, eating Marmite makes you a less appealing target. ## The folk theory It goes like this. The B vitamins in Marmite, particularly thiamine (B1), are excreted through the skin in small amounts. Mosquitoes find the smell of thiamine unattractive. Therefore, eating Marmite makes you a less appealing target. Therefore, the British tourist on the Greek islands who has had Marmite on toast every morning of the trip will be relatively un-bitten compared to the tourist who has not. It is a charming theory. People have believed it for generations. Travel guidebooks have repeated it. Mothers have packed jars of Marmite into the suitcases of children going abroad on the strength of it. It is also, unfortunately, complete rubbish. ## What the actual research says The London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine has run the experiments. So has the broader entomological literature on B-vitamin supplementation and biting-insect attraction. The consistent finding across multiple properly-controlled studies is that eating Marmite, taking B-vitamin supplements, or in any other way loading your body with B1 has no measurable effect on how attractive you are to mosquitoes. The things that do affect mosquito attraction (which the researchers also know about, because they keep being asked) include carbon dioxide output (which is more or less fixed), lactic acid in sweat (which varies with exercise), body temperature, certain skin bacteria, and, modestly, the colour of your clothing. None of these is affected by eating Marmite. ## What actually works Two things. First, DEET. The chemical N,N-diethyl-meta-toluamide, available in spray form, applied to the skin. It is the most effective broad-spectrum insect repellent ever developed and the WHO recommends it for travel in malaria zones. It is not lovely, but it works. Second, lemon eucalyptus oil. The proper extract, marketed as a slightly more natural alternative, is the second-best-evidenced option after DEET. Less effective than DEET, but better than anything else in the natural-products category. A jar of Marmite, alas, is in a separate category called "things that are very nice but not actually mosquito repellents". ## Why the myth persists Two reasons. The first is that some people are genuinely less attractive to mosquitoes than others (the skin-bacteria thing, mostly), and if those people happen to also eat Marmite, they will cheerfully attribute their good fortune to the jar rather than to their personal microbiome. The second is that Marmite is a delightfully British thing for a British traveller to take abroad, and the mosquito-repellent story is the kind of folk-belief that gives you a small extra reason to enjoy your morning toast in a hot country. Take the toast, take the joy of British-breakfast-while-on-holiday, just do not skip the DEET on the strength of it. ## Eat the Marmite anyway The B vitamins are still doing real work even if they are not deterring the bugs (see articles 200 and 173 for the proper nutritional case). The taste is still there. The morning ritual is still pleasant. Just put on the actual insect repellent before you go out for dinner. *Source: London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine field studies on B-vitamin and DEET efficacy; NHS Fit for Travel guidance.* --- ================================================================================ ## Someone made Rodin's The Kiss out of 420 jars of Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-the-kiss-statue - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-the-kiss-statue.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 169 > This is one of my favourite genuine Marmite stories. ## The statue This is one of my favourite genuine Marmite stories. The sculptor Jeremy Fattorini took 420 jars of a special Champagne-flavoured Marmite (a limited-edition variant, no longer available, do not write in) and sculpted a life-sized version of Rodin's The Kiss with it, the two embracing figures and all. The finished piece was installed for public viewing in London's Greenwich Park. Greenwich Park is the right venue. The Royal Observatory, the Maritime Museum, the rolling Thames-side hill, and now a life-sized Marmite Rodin. Tourists arriving for Greenwich Mean Time got a bonus. ## How long it took Two and a half weeks. Fattorini did most of the modelling work by hand, packing the Marmite into a framework and shaping it the way a sculptor would shape clay. He said in the interviews at the time that it was a good thing he liked the taste, because he was licking his fingers throughout the entire process. The Champagne-flavoured Marmite, for reference, was a 2008 limited edition that paired the classic yeast extract with a noticeable note of, yes, Champagne. It was an acquired taste even for Marmite lovers. Sculpting two and a half weeks' worth of it into a Rodin must, by the end, have done some quiet violence to Fattorini's palate. ## Why this is, actually, charming The sensible reaction to "someone has sculpted Rodin's The Kiss out of Marmite" is to roll one's eyes at yet another brand stunt. But the stunt itself is too sincere to dismiss. A real sculptor, doing real sculpting work, with a recognisable piece of fine art as the source material. Not a Marmite jar made to look like a statue, which would be the lazy version. An actual statue, the right scale, the right pose, made out of Marmite. The thing was reportedly hard to keep upright in warm weather (Marmite, as anyone who has left a jar in the sun knows, does soften), and it was eventually dismantled. No-one ate any of it on aesthetic principle, although there were jokes about it. ## What is left of it Photographs. A small piece of British advertising history. The good question, when one thinks of Marmite stunts, of "was that real or did I imagine it?", because of course someone sculpted Rodin's The Kiss out of Marmite. Of course they did. The Hate Party would have been unmoved either way. *Source: Marie Claire UK, 2008 coverage.* --- ================================================================================ ## A man called Saire Marmite, by his own request - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/saire-marmite-name-change - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/saire-marmite-name-change.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 168 > Saire May, then thirty-eight, got out his deed poll forms and officially became Saire Marmite. His reasoning, as reported at the time, was that he wanted to demonstrate proper devotion to the jar. ## The name change Saire May, then thirty-eight, got out his deed poll forms and officially became Saire Marmite. His reasoning, as reported at the time, was that he wanted to demonstrate proper devotion to the jar. He was, on his own account, getting through one a week, and his Marmite memorabilia collection had passed a hundred items. His family thought he was a bit mad. Saire Marmite himself was very clear that this was a price he was happy to pay. ## In defence of Saire People do silly things in the name of brand loyalty all the time, and most of them are not interesting. Tattoos of corporate logos. Limited-edition trainers. Apple keynotes. The usual. Saire Marmite's choice is funnier than any of those because it is so committed. There is no half-measure in a deed poll name change. You can take the tattoo off if you regret it. You cannot un-deed-poll yourself without making a second trip to the deed-poll office, which most people do not do, because at that point you might as well lean into being a man called Marmite. This is the kind of behaviour the Hate Party will, of course, point to as evidence of Marmite-related derangement syndrome. We in the Love Party prefer to think of it as Saire's quiet, dignified contribution to British culture. ## Whatever next? Whether Mr Marmite is still Mr Marmite, all these years on, is a fair question and one to which I do not currently have an answer. If anyone bumps into him on the high street, do let us know. *Source: Chronicle Live, original interview circa late 2000s.* --- ================================================================================ ## Nigella's Marmite spaghetti, the right way - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-pasta-recipe - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-pasta-recipe.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 167 > The Marmite spaghetti recipe originated, in its modern form, with Nigella Lawson in the early 2000s. ## The story The Marmite spaghetti recipe originated, in its modern form, with Nigella Lawson in the early 2000s. She published it, the internet went mad about it for a fortnight, the Hate Party complained, the Love Party started cooking it on Wednesday nights, and twenty-odd years later it is one of the most reliable quick suppers in the British home cook's repertoire. If you have somehow never made it, here is the proper version. ## Ingredients (for two) - Two hundred grams of spaghetti (good-quality bronze-die spaghetti is worth the extra) - Fifty grams of unsalted butter - One to two teaspoons of Marmite (start with one if you have not made it before, two if you know) - One small clove of garlic, finely grated - Fifty grams of parmesan, freshly grated - Black pepper Salt for the pasta water, but no salt for the sauce. The Marmite and the parmesan have it covered. ## Method Bring a large pot of properly salted water (a heaped tablespoon of salt is the right amount, the pasta water should taste of the sea) to a rolling boil. Drop in the spaghetti. Set a timer for one minute less than the packet instruction. While the pasta cooks: melt the butter in a small pan over a low heat. Add the grated garlic, sweat for a minute, do not let it brown. Stir in the Marmite. It will resist for two or three seconds, then dissolve into the butter, turning the whole thing a glossy dark caramel. When the pasta timer goes, lift out a coffee-mug-sized cup of the starchy pasta water before you drain. Drain the spaghetti (do not rinse, ever) and tip it straight back into the pot with the heat off. Pour the Marmite butter over the pasta. Add a generous splash of the reserved pasta water (maybe sixty millilitres to start). Tip in the grated parmesan. Toss vigorously with tongs for thirty to forty-five seconds. The sauce should go from "liquid in the bottom" to "silky emulsion coating every strand" as the starch from the pasta water binds the butter and Marmite together. If it looks too dry, add another splash of pasta water and keep tossing. Plate, grind black pepper over the top, serve immediately. That is the whole recipe. ## Notes The pasta water matters. Without it, the sauce is just butter, Marmite, and parmesan sitting in the bottom of the pan refusing to come together. The starch in the pasta water is what turns three ingredients into a sauce. Do not skip it. The dose. One teaspoon is mild, two is the proper full Marmite hit, anything more than two is too much for this dish. Start at one if you are nervous. You can always add another half teaspoon at the end. The cheese. Real parmesan, grated yourself, from a block. The pre-grated parmesan in tubs is not parmesan, it is a different and inferior substance, and it will not melt into the sauce properly. Spend two extra quid on the block, grate it as you cook. The pasta shape. Spaghetti is correct because the long strands trap the sauce. Penne and rigatoni do not work as well. Linguine is acceptable. Anything short is wrong. The garlic is optional but improves it. Nigella's original does not include garlic. I have added it in the version above because it lifts the dish slightly without overwhelming the Marmite. Skip it if you prefer the purer version. ## What to drink with it A glass of cold lager. Or a chilled, slightly acidic white (a young Sauvignon or a Picpoul). The dish is salty and rich, so you want something that cuts through rather than rests alongside. That is dinner. *Source: Nigella Lawson, original recipe circa 2002; my own kitchen.* --- ================================================================================ ## Creamy Marmite chicken, the recipe that earns its place in your weeknight rotation - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/creamy-marmite-chicken-recipe - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/creamy-marmite-chicken-recipe.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 166 > Chicken in a creamy, savoury Marmite-and-parmesan sauce. The Marmite is hidden in the sauce, doing the long-savoury-back-note work that a slow-reduced stock would otherwise do, except this version takes twenty-five minutes start to finish. This is a proper weeknight recipe. ## What it is Chicken in a creamy, savoury Marmite-and-parmesan sauce. The Marmite is hidden in the sauce, doing the long-savoury-back-note work that a slow-reduced stock would otherwise do, except this version takes twenty-five minutes start to finish. This is a proper weeknight recipe. It is not a novelty Marmite dish. The Marmite is functional rather than decorative, and the resulting chicken is genuinely better than the cream-and-mustard variants it superficially resembles. ## Ingredients (for four) - Four chicken breasts, skin on - One tablespoon olive oil - One large onion, finely chopped - Two cloves garlic, crushed - One tablespoon Marmite (yes, a whole tablespoon, the dose is right) - Two hundred millilitres low-salt chicken stock - One hundred and fifty millilitres crème fraîche - Fifty grams parmesan, freshly grated - A handful of chives, chopped, to garnish - Salt, black pepper A nonstick frying pan with a lid is the right tool. ## Method Pat the chicken dry, season the skin side with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in the pan over medium-high. Lay the breasts in skin-side down. Brown for five minutes, untouched, until the skin is properly golden and crisp. Flip, brown the other side for two minutes. Remove the chicken to a plate. Drop the heat to medium. Add the chopped onion to the same pan and soften for five to seven minutes, stirring through the chicken fat. Add the garlic, cook for another minute. Stir in the tablespoon of Marmite. It will resist for a second, then dissolve into the onions. Pour in the stock, stir until smooth. Stir in the crème fraîche. Stir in the parmesan. The sauce will go from thin to silky in about thirty seconds. Return the chicken to the pan, skin-side up so the skin stays crisp. Spoon a little of the sauce over the meat, not over the skin. Reduce the heat, cover with a lid, simmer for fifteen to twenty minutes, until the chicken is cooked through (the juices should run clear when a sharp knife goes into the thickest part of the breast). Lift the chicken to plates. Stir the sauce one more time, check the seasoning (it will probably need black pepper but not salt, the Marmite and parmesan have already covered that). Spoon the sauce around the chicken. Garnish with the chopped chives. ## What to serve with it Mashed potatoes, properly. The sauce is built for mash. A pile of buttery potato, the chicken on top, sauce ladled over. Steamed broccoli or green beans on the side. If you want to go lighter: buttered orzo, or a pile of plain rice. The starchy element matters because it has to absorb the sauce. Salad alone is not enough. ## Notes The tablespoon of Marmite is correct. A teaspoon would be too little for this dish, because the cream and the parmesan both need a counter-weight. If you halve everything for two people, halve the Marmite to one and a half teaspoons. Do not use Greek yoghurt instead of crème fraîche. It will split when it meets the hot pan. Crème fraîche is structurally more forgiving. Use the skin. Yes, you can do this with skinless breasts, but the rendered chicken fat in the pan is what gives the sauce its base, and skin-on browned chicken is properly the right move. *Source: BBC Good Food, adapted for the right Marmite dose.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite Vaseline lip balm: the 2007 April Fool that nearly became a real product - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-vaseline-april-fools - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-vaseline-april-fools.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 165 > On 1 April, in a year I have decided not to dignify by looking up, the Marmite and Vaseline teams together announced a limited-edition product: Vaseline Lip Therapy with Marmite. Promotional materials. Quotes from brand managers. A claimed exclusive Facebook availability. ## The "launch" On 1 April, in a year I have decided not to dignify by looking up, the Marmite and Vaseline teams together announced a limited-edition product: Vaseline Lip Therapy with Marmite. Promotional materials. Quotes from brand managers. A claimed exclusive Facebook availability. The whole apparatus of a real consumer-goods launch. The internet, predictably, divided into two camps. The first camp said "of course this is fake, look at the date". The second camp said "no, wait, this actually sounds plausible" and went looking for the Facebook page. ## Why it was clever The reason the joke worked is that Marmite, more than almost any other British brand, will plausibly do absolutely anything. Marmite peanut butter, real. Marmite cashews, real. Marmite chocolate, real. Marmite popcorn, real. Marmite roast potato snacks in a bag, real. Marmite caramel sauce in a Christmas range, real. At what point in that list do you stop and decide the next thing on it is fake? The Vaseline crossover sat exactly on the line of plausibility. Salty, dark, vaguely savoury lip balm sounded ridiculous, but it sounded ridiculous in the specific way that all of Marmite's actual limited editions sound ridiculous before you actually find them on shelves. That is what made the prank land. The joke was on the audience for being unable to distinguish a fake Marmite stunt from any of the real ones. ## What the campaign actually achieved A small amount of free publicity for both brands. A nice piece of social media content. A test of how far the Marmite brand could be stretched into completely unrelated product categories before someone called the bluff. The answer, helpfully, turned out to be: a long way. Whether the Marmite team have ever thought about doing the joke for real is a separate question. A Marmite lip balm is not, structurally, much madder than Marmite caramel sauce. The lip balm just has a higher barrier to entry because lip balm consumers are not Marmite consumers, and the product would have to find shelf space in a category Marmite has no other presence in. The caramel sauce makes sense because M&S can put it on the food-aisle shelf next to other Marmite products. The lip balm would be alone in Boots, on a shelf with no friends. So probably it will stay an April Fool. But you can never quite be sure. The Hate Party, of course, will assume that any product with Marmite in it is an April Fool every day of the year. We have learned to ignore them. *Source: contemporary coverage, Red online, the original Vaseline-Marmite April Fool campaign.* --- ================================================================================ ## The time Paddington tried Marmite and Michael Bond was not pleased - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/paddington-bear-marmite-advert - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/paddington-bear-marmite-advert.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 164 > In October 2007, Marmite released a television advert featuring Paddington Bear, made in the classic stop-motion style of the original 1970s BBC series. Paddington, in his duffle coat and hat, picks up a Marmite and cheese sandwich, tries it, and declares it "really rather good". ## The advert In October 2007, Marmite released a television advert featuring Paddington Bear, made in the classic stop-motion style of the original 1970s BBC series. Paddington, in his duffle coat and hat, picks up a Marmite and cheese sandwich, tries it, and declares it "really rather good". A passing seagull objects. Chaos follows, in the way that chaos follows in Paddington stories. The ad ran in autumn 2007, generated a respectable amount of attention, and then quietly disappeared. ## Why this caused a row Paddington Bear, as anyone who has read a Paddington book will know, is a marmalade enthusiast. Specifically, he is a marmalade enthusiast. Cut marmalade, from a jar, on toast, ideally in a sandwich kept under his hat for emergencies. This is not a peripheral character trait. It is, structurally, the first thing you learn about Paddington in the original books. Marmite, with respect, is not marmalade. The two are, gastronomically and morally, opposite ends of the spread spectrum. Marmalade is sweet, bitter and orange. Marmite is salty, savoury and dark. The two are not interchangeable, and they are certainly not interchangeable in the diet of a fictional bear whose entire literary identity rests on his unswerving allegiance to one of them. So the Marmite advert showed Paddington apparently abandoning his core principle, on television, in a paid endorsement. The Paddington community noticed. Michael Bond, the author, was reportedly quite cross. ## The Bond statement Bond did the right thing. He issued a public statement reminding everyone that Paddington's first love was, would always be, marmalade. The Marmite sandwich was, in Bond's view, an unfortunate one-off. The licensing deal was not renewed. This was the correct response. Paddington's marmalade loyalty is a load-bearing fictional truth, and an ad agency does not get to overwrite it for a season of TV spots, no matter how charmingly the stop-motion is animated. Bond's quiet authorial intervention preserved the character. Credit to him. ## The advert itself was actually quite good The funny thing is, judged purely as a piece of advertising, the Paddington Marmite ad was a good ad. The stop-motion was lovingly done. The seagull was a nice piece of slapstick. The sandwich looked properly buttered. If it had featured any character other than Paddington Bear it would have been a perfectly successful Marmite campaign. But the Marmite team picked the wrong bear. There are bears in British children's literature who would have been perfectly happy to try Marmite. The Berenstain Bears, possibly. Rupert the Bear, certainly, at a pinch. Paddington was the one bear in the lineup whose published works specifically and repeatedly establish his single-minded devotion to a different spread. ## What is left of it The ad still exists somewhere on the internet if you want to track it down. The original stop-motion animator deserves credit for technical work that holds up. Marmite have, sensibly, not tried this trick again with another beloved fictional figure. And Paddington, undamaged, has gone on to two enormously successful film adaptations in which his marmalade habit is foregrounded, and one in which he infiltrates the Royal Family on a marmalade pretext. Marmalade has won. As it should. *Source: the Guardian, the Independent, October 2007 archives.* --- ================================================================================ ## The Marmarati, the fake secret society Marmite invented - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/secret-of-the-marmarati - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/secret-of-the-marmarati.md - published: 2024-07-11 - document_id: 163 > Marmite XO (the extra-strong, double-aged version) launched in 2010. The standard launch playbook for an extension of a heritage brand is, broadly, "advertise on television, put it in supermarkets, hope for the best". Marmite did not do that. ## The setup Marmite XO (the extra-strong, double-aged version) launched in 2010. The standard launch playbook for an extension of a heritage brand is, broadly, "advertise on television, put it in supermarkets, hope for the best". Marmite did not do that. Instead, the brand invented a secret society called the Marmarati. Fictional, of course. Members were the original tasters of Marmite XO, sworn to secrecy, organised into ranks (the founding members were the First Circle), inducted through ceremonies, photographed in candlelit rooms with wax-sealed envelopes and brass keys. The whole thing was structured as if it were a leaked dossier from a real secret society that the public had stumbled across. Marmite fans applied to join. The genuinely keen ones got hand-stamped, wax-sealed Marmarati cards and were sent advance jars of XO. The rest watched the campaign play out across cleverly-staged photography on the brand's website and in the trade press. ## Why it worked The Marmarati campaign worked because it took the existing Marmite-fan-base posture (a slightly obsessive subculture, devotion to a single product, occasional name-changes by deed poll) and gave it a piece of theatre to play in. Fans who had been waiting for the brand to acknowledge their devotion suddenly had a structure, ranks, and a way of feeling officially part of something. It also worked because the marketing was sincere. There is a version of this campaign that would have been condescending, an ad agency winking at the audience while pretending to take it seriously. The Marmarati version did not wink. The candle-lit photography was straight-faced. The wax seals were real wax. The whole conceit was committed to. When you commit to a joke, the audience commits with you. That is the rule. ## The shelf life of the joke Marmite XO is still sold, still extra-strong, still the same product the Marmarati launched. The Marmarati apparatus has quietly faded as a marketing live-fire exercise, but the original cards and induction packs are now collector's items, and the photography is still circulated online when British advertising people are listing their favourite campaigns. It is also, structurally, one of the early examples of what would later be called "community marketing", a generation before the term was in widespread use. The agency that pitched it understood that Marmite's fan base was already a community looking for a structure to belong to. They built the structure. The rest was inevitable. ## Sequels would have been a mistake The other thing the brand did right is they only did this once. There was no Marmarati: The Return when the next Marmite extension launched. No Marmarati Goes To Pride. No Marmarati Christmas Special. The joke is preserved as a 2010 artefact, untouched by subsequent attempts to milk it. That is unusual restraint and worth pointing to. Most brands cannot resist the second outing. The Marmarati existed for one launch, did its job, and went quietly back into the velvet-lined box. If you have an original induction card, hang on to it. Eventually it will be worth proper money. *Source: Marmite XO 2010 launch campaign; the Grocer; the Marmite Museum.* --- ================================================================================ ## The countries where Marmite has been, briefly, illegal - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-international-bans - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-international-bans.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 270 > In 2011, Denmark enforced a long-standing food regulation that requires added vitamins in commercial food products to be specifically approved by the Danish authorities. Marmite, which is fortified with extra B vitamins (B12 in particular), did not have the approval. ## The Denmark ban In 2011, Denmark enforced a long-standing food regulation that requires added vitamins in commercial food products to be specifically approved by the Danish authorities. Marmite, which is fortified with extra B vitamins (B12 in particular), did not have the approval. The Danish regulator's interpretation of the rule was that Marmite therefore could not legally be sold. Quietly, jars were pulled from shelves. British expats in Copenhagen, who treated their morning Marmite as a fixed point of their British identity abroad, noticed almost immediately and went mildly to war about it in the British press. The Daily Mail, predictably, ran headlines about Danish jackbooted Eurocrats banning the cherished British spread. The truth was less interesting: Denmark was applying its own pre-existing food rules consistently, Marmite happened to fall on the wrong side of one of them, and the same rules also caught Vegemite, Ovaltine, and various American fortified breakfast cereals. Marmite just got the headlines because it was British. The ban was lifted by 2014 after manufacturers went through the formal approval process. Danish Marmite consumption returned to its previous tiny levels. The expat community calmed down. ## The Canadian situation Canada has had a more sporadic relationship with the jar. There have been periodic seizures of Marmite shipments at the border on the grounds that certain ingredients (variously specified, depending on which year you ask) are not approved under the Canadian Food and Drugs Act. Whether this is the same B-vitamin fortification issue as Denmark, or a different additive question, has never been entirely clear from the public reporting. The practical effect has been that Marmite is sometimes available in Canadian shops and sometimes not, and the British-import-food shops in Toronto and Vancouver have had to be creative about their supply chains over the years. It is one of those border-states-of-affairs that nobody really decides, that simply exists. ## A note on why this happens Both Denmark and Canada are operating their own legitimate food safety regulations. The rules exist for sensible reasons (the regulators do not want manufacturers fortifying random products with random vitamins without oversight, because that is how you end up with population-scale over-supplementation problems decades later). Marmite, with its enthusiastic B-vitamin loading, sits exactly in the category of product these rules are designed to capture. The British view of all this tends to be that the jar is plainly a beloved heritage food and that obviously it should be allowed. The Danish and Canadian view tends to be that the jar is a manufactured nutritional supplement marketed as food and should be regulated as such. Both views are internally consistent. They just disagree on the priority order. The pleasing irony is that the very thing that makes Marmite worth eating (the B-vitamin content) is also the thing that gets it into trouble with the more cautious foreign regulators. The jar's nutritional virtues are inseparable from its legal awkwardness. ## What you can do about it If you are travelling to Denmark or Canada and you cannot live without Marmite, take a jar in your suitcase. Quietly. In your hand luggage if customs are likely to ask. Most British travellers have, at some point, smuggled a jar of Marmite past a customs desk in a country where it is technically not legally on sale. It is one of the more genteel forms of British contraband. Nobody has ever been arrested for it. The Hate Party, who do not travel with jars of Marmite, do not have this problem and consider it self-inflicted. They are, in a narrow legal sense, correct, but they are also not having any fun. *Source: contemporary Danish and Canadian regulatory reporting; expat forums; the Wikipedia history page on Marmite.* --- ================================================================================ ## 1984: the year Marmite changed the lid and the nation panicked - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-great-lid-outcry-1984 - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-great-lid-outcry-1984.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 269 > For most of its history, Marmite came with a metal screw-top lid. The lid was satisfying. It made the right sound when you opened the jar. It had heft. It felt durable, in the way that midcentury British packaging often did, and it suggested that the contents were a serious product. ## Before the lid For most of its history, Marmite came with a metal screw-top lid. The lid was satisfying. It made the right sound when you opened the jar. It had heft. It felt durable, in the way that midcentury British packaging often did, and it suggested that the contents were a serious product. This was the lid for, give or take, the first eighty years of Marmite's existence. ## The change In 1984, in a quiet exercise of cost optimisation, Marmite switched from metal to plastic lids. The new lid was lighter. Easier to manufacture. Cheaper. Slightly more resistant to corrosion from the salty contents. From a packaging-engineering perspective, the change was sensible and overdue. From the perspective of the British Marmite consumer, the change was an outrage. ## The outcry The letters pages of national newspapers in late 1984 carried a small but vigorous correspondence on the lid question. Devoted Marmite consumers wrote in to express their dismay. The plastic lid was not the same. It did not feel right. It did not make the right sound. It was, in a small way that nevertheless mattered, a betrayal of tradition. Some of the letters were straightforwardly cross. Some were comic. The funniest were the ones that took the change with mock-grand seriousness, comparing it to other 1984-specific cultural catastrophes (the year was, of course, peak Orwell-anniversary, peak Thatcher, peak miners' strike). A change of jar lid was a small thing to add to that list, but the Marmite faithful added it anyway. Unilever, who were the manufacturer at that point, did not reverse the decision. The plastic lid stayed. The metal lid did not come back. ## Why it mattered This is, on the surface, a very silly story. People wrote to The Times because their condiment had a different lid. Easy to mock. But it is also a useful piece of evidence for how the British Marmite consumer base operates. There is no other comparable food product in Britain whose customers would have written letters to the national press about a lid change. Heinz could have swapped the colour of their ketchup-bottle lid and nobody would have noticed. The Marmite community noticed within a week and wrote letters within a month. This is the same community that, twenty-six years later, would happily apply for Marmarati membership (see [the Marmarati](/articles/secret-of-the-marmarati)), and forty years later would still be defending its preferred packaging through social media campaigns when the squeezy bottle was discontinued (see [the squeezy comeback](/articles/the-squeezy-returns-marmite-convenient-format-comeback)). The fan base is unusually engaged with the small details of the product, and the brand has, to its credit, mostly learned to listen. ## The lid today The lid in 2025 is still plastic. It is now the original yellow-and-black plastic that anyone under fifty thinks of as the proper Marmite lid. The 1984 plastic lid was a deeper yellow, slightly textured. It softened to the current modern lid over the next decade. Almost nobody under sixty now remembers the metal one. The few people who do are now in their seventies or eighties and quietly maintain that the metal lid was better. They may even be right. The change was made for cost reasons and not for quality reasons, and packaging changes made for cost reasons usually are slightly inferior to the things they replaced. But the plastic lid is what we have, the world has moved on, and the Marmite community has, mostly, accepted it. Just please do not change it again. *Source: Marmite Museum; the Times letters archive, October-December 1984.* --- ================================================================================ ## Lucy Wills, Marmite, and the discovery of folic acid - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-medical-marvel-folic-acid - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-medical-marvel-folic-acid.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 268 > Lucy Wills was an English physician who graduated from Cambridge in 1928 and went to work at the Haffkine Institute in Bombay in the early 1930s. She was particularly interested in a severe and often fatal anaemia affecting pregnant women in the Bombay textile mills. The condition was puzzling. ## The doctor Lucy Wills was an English physician who graduated from Cambridge in 1928 and went to work at the Haffkine Institute in Bombay in the early 1930s. She was particularly interested in a severe and often fatal anaemia affecting pregnant women in the Bombay textile mills. The condition was puzzling. It did not respond to iron supplements, which was the standard treatment for anaemia. The women were dying in childbirth in large numbers and no one could explain why. Wills did the unglamorous, careful clinical work. She investigated their diets. She noticed that the affected women were almost universally on a thin diet of polished rice and very little else, and that the unaffected women were on slightly more varied diets. Whatever was missing was clearly in the food. She started experimenting with food-based supplements. Among the things she tried, on a hunch, was Marmite. ## What happened It worked. The women on a daily Marmite regimen recovered. The anaemia, which had been killing pregnant women in Bombay for decades, responded to the yeast extract from a Burton-on-Trent factory. Wills published her results in 1931, and the substance in Marmite that was doing the work became known, somewhat charmingly, as the "Wills factor". It would take another decade for biochemists to isolate and identify the Wills factor as a specific compound. The compound turned out to be folate, otherwise known as vitamin B9 or folic acid in its synthetic form. The discovery of folate, and its later recognition as essential for the prevention of neural tube defects in pregnancy, is one of the foundational pieces of twentieth-century nutritional science. And it started, in the form of a successful clinical trial in 1931, with a doctor in Bombay handing out daily doses of Marmite. ## What this means Two things, both worth holding onto. First, Lucy Wills' work is the original reason pregnant women are now routinely advised to take folic acid supplements. The advice, which has saved enormous numbers of babies from spina bifida and other neural tube defects, traces back to her observation that a jar of yeast extract could cure something nobody else could cure. Second, Marmite was an active piece of mid-twentieth-century clinical practice. Not a heritage brand. Not a curiosity. An ingredient that working doctors put into treatment regimens because it visibly fixed a measurable health problem. The folate content was doing real medical work in real hospitals on real patients, decades before anyone knew what folate was. This is the kind of brand history that you cannot manufacture and you cannot buy. It happens once, and then you have it forever. ## A note on Lucy Wills Wills is one of the great underrated figures in twentieth-century British medicine. She continued working for decades after the Bombay study, did important work on macrocytic anaemia in pregnancy more generally, and quietly mentored a generation of women into medical careers at a time when that was rare. The medical literature treats her as a foundational figure. The general public has mostly forgotten her, which is a shame. If you ever find yourself standing in front of a jar of Marmite and feeling vaguely sceptical about its claims to be a useful piece of nutrition, remember Lucy Wills. The next time the brand puts out an anniversary campaign, this is the story they should be telling. ## The Sri Lanka footnote Marmite was also used to combat malnutrition during a major malaria epidemic in Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) in the mid-1930s. The same trick as the Bombay study, deployed at a larger scale, with similarly good results. The historical record on this is thinner than the Wills work but the broader picture is consistent: in the 1930s, Marmite was one of the most useful pieces of pocket nutrition in the British colonial medical kit. *Sources: BMJ obituary of Lucy Wills; original 1931 paper on macrocytic anaemia in Bombay; Wikipedia entries on Wills and on folic acid history.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite goes to war: the WWII workers' advertising, the Red Cross parcels, and the Burma broth - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-goes-to-war - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-goes-to-war.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 267 > By 1916, the British Army Medical Corps had a problem. Soldiers in the trenches were developing beriberi, a nerve disease caused by thiamine (vitamin B1) deficiency. ## The First World War By 1916, the British Army Medical Corps had a problem. Soldiers in the trenches were developing beriberi, a nerve disease caused by thiamine (vitamin B1) deficiency. The military diet of biscuit, tinned bully beef, tea, and the occasional jam ration was perfectly calorific but desperately short on B vitamins, and beriberi was taking men out of action at a rate the army could not afford. Marmite, by that point in production for fourteen years and well-established as a B-vitamin-rich product, was the obvious answer. The Army Medical Corps started adding small portions of Marmite to ration packs as a public health measure. A teaspoon a day was enough to keep thiamine levels in the safe range. The decision was unromantic and quietly transformative. Thousands of British soldiers who would otherwise have been invalided out with nerve damage instead carried on, in part because somebody had thought to include a yeast extract in their tin. ## The Second World War The lesson was not forgotten. By 1939, Marmite was already on the standard ration-pack inclusion list, and it remained there throughout the war. British soldiers in North Africa, Italy, Burma and across the European theatre carried small portions of Marmite alongside their other rations. It also had a civilian role. The wartime nutrition advisors at the Ministry of Food repeatedly promoted Marmite to British households as a way of stretching restricted ingredients while maintaining vitamin intake. Wartime recipe pamphlets carried Marmite-based recipes specifically for malnourished children, pregnant women, and the elderly, who were the populations most at risk from rationing-related deficiencies. ## The Lucy Wills story (separately important) In the 1930s, between the wars, the English physician Lucy Wills did the work that would eventually lead to the discovery of folic acid. She was studying anaemia in pregnant textile workers in Bombay, and she found that Marmite was an effective treatment (see [the folic acid story](/articles/marmite-medical-marvel-folic-acid) for the full story). The "Wills factor" she identified turned out to be folate (vitamin B9), and her work fed directly into the wartime nutritional case for Marmite as a folate source for pregnant women on rations. So Marmite's military CV is not just about thiamine and beriberi. It is also about folate, anaemia, and infant nutrition. The jar was, in a small but real way, doing public health work across the entire reproductive cycle. ## What this leaves us with A jar of Marmite is a small object. Its place in twentieth-century British public health is, on a per-cubic-centimetre basis, larger than that of almost anything else in your kitchen cupboard. This is the kind of thing the brand could shout about more than it does, and politely chooses not to. It is also the reason older British households have a quiet, unshakable loyalty to the jar that newcomers sometimes struggle to understand. Marmite was, for a generation, a thing the Ministry of Food was telling people to eat for serious reasons, not a thing the marketing team was telling them to enjoy for trivial ones. That history is worth remembering when the McCormick-era new owners arrive in 2027 and decide what to do with the brand. *Source: Imperial War Museums; War Office ration records; Ministry of Food wartime publications; the Wikipedia history page on Marmite.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite is a French word, and the jar used to be a pot - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/story-of-the-french-marmite-pot - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/story-of-the-french-marmite-pot.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 266 > The pronunciation argument has been running for at least a hundred years. "Mar-meet" is the original French, and is, technically, correct. "Mar-might" is the British naturalisation, and is what almost everyone in Britain actually says. Both are now acceptable. ## Mar-meet, not mar-might The pronunciation argument has been running for at least a hundred years. "Mar-meet" is the original French, and is, technically, correct. "Mar-might" is the British naturalisation, and is what almost everyone in Britain actually says. Both are now acceptable. The brand itself uses "mar-might" in its modern advertising. But the original is French. The word "marmite" in French means a large, lidded earthenware or metal cooking pot, the kind you would simmer a stew in for hours. Pronounced, originally, "mar-meet". ## Why the name Two reasons, both about marketing. First, the original Marmite Food Company in 1902 wanted to associate their new yeast-extract spread with the more sophisticated end of European cuisine. French cooking was the gold standard at the turn of the century. A French name, on a British food product made from leftover brewery yeast, lent a small piece of borrowed prestige. The same trick that put "Heinz" on tomato ketchup and "Schweppes" on tonic water. Second, the spread was originally sold in actual marmite pots. Small, lidded, earthenware. They held a few ounces of Marmite each. You bought them at the grocer, took them home, scraped out the Marmite, then either returned the pot for a refund or kept it for the kitchen. Some of these original pots still turn up at car-boot sales and are properly collectible. ## The jar arrives The earthenware pots were phased out in the 1920s in favour of the bulbous glass jars we know today. The reasons were sensible: glass was cheaper to produce at scale, easier to fill on a production line, easier to ship without breaking, and the consumer could see how much Marmite was left before buying a new one. None of which was true of the opaque earthenware pot. The picture of a marmite pot was kept on the label. It is still there. If you look at any modern Marmite jar (classic 250g, yellow label, black lid), the pot is the design element under the brand name, slightly stylised but recognisably a covered earthenware vessel. Most people who buy Marmite have looked at that picture thousands of times and never registered what it was. Now you have. You will not be able to un-see it. ## A small note on French Marmite There is no French Marmite. The product is British, the name is borrowed. France itself has never had a yeast-extract spread in the Marmite style (although various French savoury condiments like Maggi liquide do a related job). The French word that gave Marmite its name is itself still in use in French for the cooking pot, and you can buy a marmite-the-cookware at most French cookware shops. You can also buy Marmite-the-spread in French supermarkets, although it is on the expat-foods shelf, not in the mainstream condiments aisle. The continental heritage is, in other words, mostly etymological. The product is Burton-on-Trent through and through. *Source: Marmite Museum; OED on the etymology; Wikipedia on the company history.* --- ================================================================================ ## How Marmite was invented, by a German chemist and a Burton brewery - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/accidental-origins-of-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/accidental-origins-of-marmite.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 265 > Justus von Liebig was one of the most important nineteenth-century chemists, a founder of modern organic chemistry, the namesake of the Liebig condenser still found in every undergraduate lab, and a serial inventor of food products. ## The German chemist Justus von Liebig was one of the most important nineteenth-century chemists, a founder of modern organic chemistry, the namesake of the Liebig condenser still found in every undergraduate lab, and a serial inventor of food products. Among his many side projects, he developed methods for extracting useful things from food industry by-products that nobody else thought were useful. In the 1870s, von Liebig turned his attention to spent brewers' yeast. Brewing produces large quantities of yeast as a by-product. By the late nineteenth century the global brewing industry was generating millions of tonnes of it a year, and the standard disposal method was, essentially, "tip it out the back". Von Liebig worked out that the yeast, if processed correctly, could be autolysed (let its own enzymes break the cells apart) and the resulting liquid concentrated into a thick, dark, salty, B-vitamin-rich paste. The paste was nutritious. It was preservation-friendly. It was made from a waste product, so the raw material cost was effectively zero. And it tasted, in his own assessment, like a very intense piece of savoury seasoning. What von Liebig did not do was turn his discovery into a commercial product. He published the methodology, the paste was a curiosity in the food-science literature, and that was that for two decades. ## The Burton bit In 1902, a group of British businessmen looked at von Liebig's published process, looked at the colossal volumes of spent yeast being thrown away by the breweries of Burton-on-Trent (then the centre of the British brewing industry), and concluded that there was a real product in here. They set up the Marmite Food Company in a disused malt house next to the breweries, refined the von Liebig process, added a seasoning blend (the closely-guarded recipe of vegetable extracts and spices that gives Marmite its specific character, as distinct from generic yeast extract), and started selling the result in small earthenware pots. The pots, originally, gave the product its name. "Marmite" is the French word for the kind of covered cooking pot the spread was sold in (see [the story of the French marmite pot](/articles/story-of-the-french-marmite-pot) for the etymology). The pots gave way to glass jars in the 1920s. The Burton factory is still on the same site, more than a hundred and twenty years later (see [the Burton factory today](/articles/marmite-factory-burton-on-trent)). ## Why this is a good origin story Three things make it satisfying. First, it is genuinely a piece of waste turned into a delicacy. Spent brewers' yeast was, before von Liebig and the Burton company, literally garbage. After them, it was breakfast. That is an unusually clean example of industrial up-cycling, decades before "up-cycling" was a fashionable word. Second, it is a quiet collaboration between German chemistry and British food manufacturing. Von Liebig did the science. The Burton company did the product. Neither party was trying to invent Marmite specifically. The two pieces fitted together because the right people noticed. Third, the origin tells you something honest about the product. Marmite is not a luxury food and was not conceived as one. It is a clever, nutritionally dense, low-cost spread made from brewery by-products by people who knew what they were doing. The fact that it has survived for a century and a quarter, and been added to the national breakfast table by millions of people, is a kind of vindication of the original commercial bet. The Hate Party occasionally cite the origin (spent yeast, brewery waste) as evidence that Marmite is fundamentally unappealing. The Hate Party should consider that bread is, structurally, also a fermentation product made from raw materials nobody could eat on their own (raw flour, raw yeast, raw salt water). The conversion of unappealing raw materials into delicious finished products is, more or less, what cooking is. *Sources: Wikipedia on Justus von Liebig and on Marmite history; the Marmite Museum.* --- ================================================================================ ## Guinness Marmite, the limited edition with the Irish stout yeast - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/guinness-marmite-collaboration - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/guinness-marmite-collaboration.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 162 > Marmite, as anyone who has read [Burton-on-Trent, where the Marmite actually comes from](/articles/marmite-factory-burton-on-trent) will already know, has always sourced its raw material from leftover brewers' yeast. ## The collaboration Marmite, as anyone who has read [Burton-on-Trent, where the Marmite actually comes from](/articles/marmite-factory-burton-on-trent) will already know, has always sourced its raw material from leftover brewers' yeast. For a hundred and twenty-three years that yeast has come from the breweries of Burton-on-Trent. In 2007, the brand did the obvious-once-you-think-of-it thing and ran a special edition made with yeast from a different brewery: Guinness's St James's Gate brewery in Dublin. The resulting Guinness Marmite was the standard Marmite recipe with the Bass-style Burton yeast swapped out for spent Guinness yeast. Same processing, same seasoning blend, different source material. The branding was the part everyone remembers. The jars were black-and-gold (Guinness colours), the label kept the marmite-pot motif but in gold-on-black, and the tagline was "My Goodness, My Marmite", a pun on the 1929 Guinness slogan "My Goodness, My Guinness". Whoever wrote that tagline deserved the bonus. ## How it tasted Different. Specifically: deeper, slightly darker, slightly more bitter, with a faint roasted-malt note that ordinary Marmite does not have. Guinness yeast carries the influence of the dark-roasted barley used in stout production, and that character carries through into the finished spread. Was it better than the standard? Depends on who you ask. The Marmite purists (and there are more of these than you might think) thought it was an interesting variation but slightly off-balance. The Marmite enthusiasts who also like Guinness, a sizeable overlapping population, loved it. The Hate Party predictably hated both Guinness Marmite and ordinary Marmite, with the precise relative weights of their hatred varying by individual. I had one jar at the time. Used it on toast over the course of a couple of weeks. It was good but not transformative. Worth having tried; not worth campaigning for a permanent return. ## Why it worked as a campaign Three reasons. First, the cross-brand pun was genuinely clever. Pun-led collaborations usually feel forced. "My Goodness, My Marmite" is a graceful piece of writing that respects both brands' heritage and trusts the audience to enjoy the wordplay. Second, the visual identity. The black-and-gold jar in a sea of yellow-and-oxblood standard jars stood out on shelves. It was instantly recognisable as the special edition without anyone having to read the label. Third, the underlying logic of the product was honest. Marmite is made from brewers' yeast. Guinness is a brewer. Therefore Guinness Marmite. The collaboration was not a forced marketing fit, it was the most natural cross-brand pairing you could possibly invent. ## The collector's market Guinness Marmite jars now sell on eBay, depending on condition, for somewhere between fifteen and thirty pounds. Unopened, in original cardboard sleeve, you can push that into the forty-pound range. Not life-changing money, but a solid return on a three-pound jar from 2007. If you happen to find one in a cupboard during a kitchen clearout, do not open it. Even Marmite has a shelf-life eventually, and an eighteen-year-old jar is well past the point of being good on toast. As a collectible it is worth more sealed than opened. The 125th anniversary of Marmite is in 2027, and the collectible-jar market will tick upwards in the run-up. Same applies for the [Ma'amite Diamond Jubilee jar](/articles/maamite-jubilee-edition), the Olympic 2012 jars, the various Champagne-flavoured runs, and the [final Elton John Pride jar](/articles/marmite-unveils-final-pride-jar-elton-john-aids-foundation). Hoard accordingly. *Source: Marmite 2007 launch; the Telegraph contemporary coverage; eBay completed listings.* --- ================================================================================ ## Burton-on-Trent, where the Marmite actually comes from - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-factory-burton-on-trent - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-factory-burton-on-trent.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 161 > The Marmite factory has been on the same Burton-on-Trent site since 1902. It was not, you will be relieved to hear, chosen at random. ## Why Burton The Marmite factory has been on the same Burton-on-Trent site since 1902. It was not, you will be relieved to hear, chosen at random. Burton in the late nineteenth century was the centre of the British brewing industry, home to Bass, Worthington, Ind Coope and most of the other names you have ever read off the back of a beer mat in a Victorian pub. Brewing produces large quantities of leftover spent yeast as a by-product. That spent yeast is the raw material for Marmite. So when the Marmite Food Company was set up in 1902, the founders did the sensible thing and put the factory directly next to the breweries that would supply the yeast. The factory occupied a disused malt house. The supply chain was, more or less, a short walk down the road. That logic still holds, in slightly modified form. The breweries are mostly different now, the Bass brewery itself has long since shrunk, but the spent-yeast supply still comes locally and the factory still occupies broadly the same footprint. ## The smell of the town If the wind is in the right direction, the air in central Burton smells of Marmite. Faintly. Yeasty, savoury, slightly biscuity. It is the same way that towns near coffee roasters smell of coffee, or towns near bakeries smell of bread. I have been to Burton a few times. The smell is real. Locals are mostly used to it and stop noticing within a few days of moving in. Visitors notice immediately and either find it pleasant (Love Party) or off-putting (Hate Party). If you want to do the pilgrimage, the factory itself is not generally open to the public, but the town is small enough to walk around easily, and Burton has a decent National Brewery Centre that is worth a couple of hours of your time. ## The process, very briefly The spent yeast arrives at the factory. It is autolysed (the yeast cells self-digest using their own enzymes, which is a real and slightly unsettling biology word for what is essentially "letting the yeast eat itself"). The liquid that results is filtered, concentrated, and seasoned with the secret blend of vegetable extracts, salt, and spices that make Marmite Marmite. The exact recipe is closely guarded. There are obviously plenty of Marmite-style yeast extracts on the market (see [the global variations](/articles/marmite-global-variations) on the global variations), but none of them tastes exactly like Burton Marmite, and the difference is mostly in the seasoning blend that the Burton factory has held onto since the early twentieth century. ## What happens to the factory next This is the question that has been hanging over Burton since the McCormick-Unilever sale process kicked off (see [the Unilever sale-process story](/articles/marmite-future-under-scrutiny-unilever-portfolio-focus) from November 2025, and the McCormick deal in March 2026). A new owner buying the brand will, at some point, decide whether to keep producing in Burton or whether to consolidate production elsewhere. Burton is roughly two hundred and forty jobs at the factory. The town has been making Marmite for a hundred and twenty-three years. The factory is, in a real sense, the brand. Moving production elsewhere would be culturally vandalising even if it made commercial sense. McCormick's public language has been about "long-term manufacturing agreements", which sounds reassuring but is the same language Mondelez used about Cadbury's Bournville plant before they substantially scaled it back. Burton should be watching closely. For now, the factory hums, the smell drifts on the right wind, and the spent yeast keeps arriving from the breweries down the road. Long may it continue. *Source: Marmite Museum; National Brewery Centre, Burton; my own visits.* --- ================================================================================ ## Whether you love or hate Marmite is, partly, in your DNA - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-genetics-of-taste - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-genetics-of-taste.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 160 > A few years back, the consumer-genetics company DNAFit ran a study they called the Marmite Gene Project. The aim was to see whether the famous love-it-or-hate-it divide had a genetic basis, beyond cultural exposure and childhood imprinting. The answer, surprisingly, was yes. ## The Marmite Gene Project A few years back, the consumer-genetics company DNAFit ran a study they called the Marmite Gene Project. The aim was to see whether the famous love-it-or-hate-it divide had a genetic basis, beyond cultural exposure and childhood imprinting. The answer, surprisingly, was yes. The study identified fifteen specific single-nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs, the small variations in DNA that explain a lot of individual differences in everything from eye colour to caffeine tolerance) that correlated meaningfully with Marmite preference. The correlations were not enormous, but they were real. Two people from the same household and the same upbringing can react to Marmite quite differently, and a chunk of that difference appears to be sitting in their genes. ## The 23andMe follow-up The much larger genetic-testing company 23andMe, with its much larger participant base, did follow-up work and identified a specific SNP near a gene called SIX3 as significantly associated with Marmite preference. SIX3 is, among other things, involved in the development of the olfactory system, which matters because most of what we experience as "taste" is actually smell. So the genetic mechanism is plausible. People with certain variants of olfactory-development genes perceive the volatile compounds in Marmite differently, and those different perceptions translate into the difference between "Mmm, delicious" and "How can you eat that". ## What this does not mean It does not mean Marmite preference is a hundred per cent genetic. Childhood exposure matters. Cultural context matters. Whether your parents put Marmite on your toast at age four matters a lot. The genetic component is one variable among several, not the whole story. It also does not mean that Marmite Haters are biologically incapable of enjoying Marmite. A person with the "less-receptive" SNP variants can still develop a taste for the jar over time, given exposure and a willingness to keep trying. Taste is plastic. The genes set the starting point; the rest is your own experience. ## Why this is comforting The next time you are at a dinner party and someone says they cannot stand Marmite, you can now, in a small way, give them the benefit of the doubt. They are not being dramatic or fussy. There is a non-trivial chance that their olfactory genes are simply reading the volatile compounds in your jar differently from how yours are. This is also a useful argument to deploy against people who claim Marmite Lovers are somehow culturally smug about their preference. We are not smug. We are genetically blessed. The two are very different things. ## The Hate Party respond The Hate Party, when confronted with this evidence, will typically reply that their dislike of Marmite is a perfectly rational response to a perfectly horrible product. The Hate Party are also, in their own way, partly correct: their genes are telling them the truth as they perceive it. We just disagree about whose truth is more interesting. Pass the toast. *Source: DNAFit Marmite Gene Project; 23andMe research blog.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite hooch, the prison-cell ferment that briefly became famous - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-hooch-recipe - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-hooch-recipe.md - published: 2024-07-10 - document_id: 159 > The brewing of alcohol at home requires no licence in the UK for personal consumption. The brewing of alcohol in prison is, however, against prison rules, and this article is not a recommendation to do either, particularly the second. It is a piece of food history. Read on accordingly. ## Disclaimer, immediately The brewing of alcohol at home requires no licence in the UK for personal consumption. The brewing of alcohol in prison is, however, against prison rules, and this article is not a recommendation to do either, particularly the second. It is a piece of food history. Read on accordingly. ## What happened in Wolverhampton In the early 2000s, the staff at Wolverhampton prison noticed something odd. Quite a few of the inmates had started ordering jars of Marmite, the standard 250g, on the regular canteen list. The Marmite was disappearing faster than would be expected for normal toast-spreading purposes. The fruit ration was also disappearing faster than expected. Plastic containers, traditionally treated as low-risk items in cell inspections, were suddenly receiving more attention. The penny dropped. Inmates were using the yeast in Marmite (which, although autolysed and not freely active, still contains enough live or revivable cells to do basic fermentation) combined with orange or apple pulp and a smuggled cup of sugar, sealed in a plastic container with a small hole for gas to escape, kept warm under the bedclothes, to brew small batches of basic prison hooch. The story made the papers. Marmite, demurely, declined to comment on the off-label use. The prison cracked down on Marmite orders. The inmates, presumably, moved on to a different yeast source. ## The principle, briefly Brewing alcohol requires three things: a sugar source, a yeast culture, and a warm place to let the two react. Conventional brewing uses malted barley or grapes (or, indeed, fruit) for the sugar, and dedicated brewer's or wine-yeast cultures for the yeast. The Wolverhampton inmates used fruit pulp for the sugar, and Marmite for the yeast. It is, by all accounts and reports, a slow and inefficient ferment compared to using proper brewing yeast. The yield is low. The alcohol content is modest, probably four to six per cent at best. The resulting liquid is cloudy, off-smelling, and very strongly flavoured of Marmite. It is not pleasant. But it is, in a strict sense, alcohol made from a jar of yeast extract. The chemistry works. ## The "recipe", with strong caveats Should you choose, in a non-prison setting, to demonstrate the chemistry to yourself, the principle is: - Two teaspoons of Marmite dissolved in warm water - A cup of sugar - The pulp of several oranges (or apples, or any sugary fruit) - A sealed container with a pinhole or simple airlock so the carbon dioxide can escape - A warm dark place, three to five days Mix everything, seal it loosely, wait. The Marmite yeast will, eventually, start to ferment the fruit sugars. You will know it is working because the container will bubble and the smell will become powerfully yeasty. What you will not produce is anything you would want to drink. The flavour is unequivocally awful. The brew is cloudy. The alcohol yield is unimpressive. As a piece of garden-shed chemistry it is interesting. As a beverage it is a curiosity. If you want home-brewed alcohol that you would actually enjoy drinking, buy proper brewing yeast (a sachet of dried Champagne yeast costs about a pound), use proper malt or fruit juice, and follow a real recipe from a real home-brew book. The Marmite hooch story is a piece of newspaper folklore. Do not actually try to live on the resulting product. ## What the story was really about The Wolverhampton episode was, in a small way, a flattering one for Marmite. The jar's yeast content turned out to be biologically active enough, even after processing, to support a fermentation. That is a quiet testament to the underlying ingredient quality. Marmite is, after all the seasoning and the salt and the concentration, still recognisably a yeast product. It is also a small reminder that human ingenuity, applied to limited resources, will find a way. Including, if necessary, by way of a smuggled cup of sugar and a jar of Marmite. The Hate Party would not have known what to do with the situation. The Love Party, of course, immediately spotted the trick. *Source: contemporary press coverage; HM Prison Service public statements at the time.* --- ================================================================================ ## M&S have launched a proper Marmite-cheddar sandwich - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marks-and-spencer-marmite-cheddar-sandwich-revolution - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marks-and-spencer-marmite-cheddar-sandwich-revolution.md - published: 2024-06-15 - document_id: 264 > M&S have launched a pre-made sandwich in their food-to-go range that pairs Marmite cream cheese with British farmhouse cheddar, on vitamin-D enriched soft white bread. Around four quid. ## The sandwich M&S have launched a pre-made sandwich in their food-to-go range that pairs Marmite cream cheese with British farmhouse cheddar, on vitamin-D enriched soft white bread. Around four quid. Available in food halls and the larger Simply Food outlets, in the chiller alongside the rest of the lunchtime sandwich range. This is a properly thought-through product. The decisions M&S have made are good ones, and worth pulling apart, because they explain why this sandwich is markedly better than the obvious DIY version you would make at home with a jar and a knife. ## The cream cheese decision The big choice is using Marmite cream cheese rather than straight Marmite. Marmite cream cheese is the existing Marmite product that blends the yeast extract with full-fat soft cheese, sold in 150g tubs in the spreads aisle. It is, in M&S's hands, the right move for a pre-packed sandwich. The problem with putting straight Marmite into a pre-made sandwich is that Marmite is, by design, intensely concentrated. Spread on toast it works because the eater controls the dose and the toast is warm enough to soften the spread. In a cold, pre-packed sandwich made by a factory line, the Marmite tends to cluster in patches. You bite once and get a properly intense mouthful, you bite again and get bread and nothing. That is the "Marmite pocket" problem. The cream cheese version solves it. The Marmite is pre-mixed into a soft, spreadable, lower-concentration carrier, which spreads evenly across the bread and stays put. Every bite tastes the same. The intensity is moderated. The result is a Marmite sandwich that consistently tastes of Marmite, without the punishing peaks and troughs of the home-made version. ## The cheddar choice British farmhouse cheddar. M&S have not specified a particular county or producer (the press release just says "farmhouse"), but the slice in the sandwich is properly mature, properly cheesy, with the slight crumble that decent cheddar gives. It is not the slightly rubbery factory cheddar of cheap supermarket sandwiches. The cheddar's job in this sandwich is to provide the protein, the cooling fat, and the slight sharpness that Marmite needs to play against. Mild cheese would not work. Extra mature cheddar might be too aggressive. The "good farmhouse cheddar" middle ground is the right specification. ## The bread Vitamin-D-fortified white. White bread is, on the face of it, a slightly boring choice. But it is the right one for this sandwich, because the bread's job is to disappear quietly. A complex sourdough would compete with the Marmite-cheese flavour combination. White bread carries the filling without arguing. The vitamin-D fortification is partly nutritional (UK populations are widely deficient in vitamin D, particularly in winter, so adding it to staple foods is a small public-health intervention), partly clever marketing. It lets M&S put the sandwich in the slightly-more-virtuous food category without changing the underlying eating experience. ## Why the partnership matters M&S is the premium tier of British supermarket food. Marmite appearing on its food-to-go shelves, presented as a proper sandwich rather than a novelty, is a quiet promotion for the brand. Marmite as Tuesday lunch, not just as Saturday breakfast. It also matters as a precedent. The M&S × Marmite collaboration that began here led to the much more ambitious 2025 range (see [the M&S pizza and mac-and-cheese range](/articles/ms-launches-marmite-pizza-and-mac-and-cheese-range) for the pizza, the mac and cheese, the mac bites), and to the 2025 Christmas caramel sauce and blondies (see [the M&S Christmas caramel range](/articles/ms-christmas-2025-marmite-caramel-festive-range)). M&S have, in 2025, become the most adventurous Marmite-licensed-product partner in the country, and this sandwich was the small early experiment that proved the audience was there. ## How to eat it As is, from the box, at a desk or on a train. The sandwich is designed for that and works well. If you have access to a toaster or a panini press, toasting it transforms the experience. The cream cheese melts slightly, the Marmite intensifies and goes from cold-cream-cheese-with-Marmite to warm-grilled-cheese-with-Marmite, and the white bread crisps into something properly satisfying. This is the move. If you have a desk panini press at work, this is the sandwich. The DIY upgrade: split the sandwich open, add a sliced tomato or a few cucumber discs. Both lift it considerably. M&S do not include these in the standard version, presumably because they would shorten the shelf-life of a chilled sandwich, but you can add them yourself. ## Should you buy one Yes. Whenever you are in an M&S food hall at lunchtime and the sandwich is in front of you, get it. Around four pounds for genuinely good sandwich is fair value in the current pricing environment, and this is one of the rare ready-made sandwiches that you will eat with actual pleasure rather than just tolerance. The Hate Party will, as always, be back at the meal-deal aisle picking up something with no Marmite in it. Let them. *Source: M&S Food, June 2024 launch.* --- ================================================================================ ## M&S have put Marmite in a salted-caramel blondie - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/mands-marmite-autumn-blondies - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/mands-marmite-autumn-blondies.md - published: 2023-10-11 - document_id: 262 > For autumn 2023, M&S put a Marmite product into their bakery range. Specifically: Pecan and Salted Caramel Blondies with Marmite. A blondie base (vanilla brownie), studded with pecans, with a Marmite-laced salted-caramel sauce swirled through, baked into a fudgy slab. On the face of it: mad. ## A bake with Marmite in it For autumn 2023, M&S put a Marmite product into their bakery range. Specifically: Pecan and Salted Caramel Blondies with Marmite. A blondie base (vanilla brownie), studded with pecans, with a Marmite-laced salted-caramel sauce swirled through, baked into a fudgy slab. On the face of it: mad. In the eating: actually rather good. Worth understanding why, because this is the early experiment that led to M&S's much bigger 2025 ambitions with the Marmite caramel sauce in the Christmas range ([the M&S Christmas caramel range](/articles/ms-christmas-2025-marmite-caramel-festive-range)) and the pizza and mac-and-cheese line ([the M&S pizza and mac-and-cheese range](/articles/ms-launches-marmite-pizza-and-mac-and-cheese-range)). ## Why this works (the food-science footnote) Marmite and caramel are chemical cousins. Both are products of Maillard-reaction browning, the chemistry that happens when sugars and proteins heat up together and produce the complex flavour molecules that we recognise as "browned" and "caramelised". Marmite is, structurally, a deeply browned yeast extract. Caramel is a deeply browned sugar. The two have a lot of shared flavour compounds. Salted caramel adds salt to caramel because salt makes sweetness more interesting. Marmite-caramel adds Marmite to caramel for the same reason but with a longer back-note: Marmite carries salt, glutamates, and a roasted depth that ordinary salted caramel does not. So the M&S blondie was applying a piece of properly-grounded food science. It is not a stunt. It is a thoughtful flavour pairing dressed up as a slightly mad seasonal product. ## The product itself The blondies were sold in packs at around five pounds for two or three pieces. The Marmite was dosed conservatively (a thin swirl of salted-caramel sauce with Marmite mixed in, not a heavy hand). The pecan provided the textural element. The blondie base was properly fudgy, not the dry sponge-cake-pretending-to-be-a-blondie that lesser bakeries produce. The flavour balance was the surprise. The Marmite was just-present, registering as a long savoury back-note rather than as a separate intrusive note. Most people I gave one to could not, on a blind tasting, identify what the secret ingredient was. Once told, they could taste it. Once tasted, they wanted another piece. If you had asked me in September 2023 whether a Marmite blondie was a good idea, I would have said no. After eating one, I changed my mind. This is, in fact, the right reaction to most thoughtful sweet-savoury food experiments. ## What it predicted The 2023 blondie was M&S's pilot project for using Marmite in their bakery and sweet-product range. The audience response was positive enough to justify a much more ambitious 2025 Christmas range with the Marmite caramel sauce, which itself is the direct descendant of the blondie's caramel-Marmite swirl, just in a jar rather than baked into a pastry. The same flavour logic applies to both products. The blondie was the small test. The caramel sauce is the scaled-up product. The Marmite-and-vanilla-ice-cream pairing that the caramel sauce enables is the dessert the blondie was a prototype for. ## Are they still available The 2023 autumn blondies were a seasonal product and disappeared from shelves by Christmas. They have not, to my knowledge, returned in subsequent years. The follow-up products (the 2025 caramel sauce, the various Marmite × M&S baked goods that have appeared in the food-to-go range) carry the same idea forward in different formats. If M&S re-issue the blondie at some point in a future autumn range, get a pack. They are properly good. Bring one to a dinner party, do not tell anyone what is in it, and watch the reactions when you announce the ingredient at the end. The Hate Party will refuse to try them on principle. The Hate Party are, in this case, missing a small piece of culinary fun. *Source: M&S Food autumn 2023 baking range; Guardian food pages contemporary coverage.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite Truffle: the posh jar of 2022 - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-truffle-2022-limited-edition - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-truffle-2022-limited-edition.md - published: 2022-05-02 - document_id: 489 > Marmite went posh in May 2022 with a truffle edition, a 250g Sainsbury's exclusive at £4.50 launched by horse-drawn carriage. The aroma is the whole event. Whether truffle and Marmite need each other is another question. There is something gloriously contrary about putting truffle, the most show-off ingredient in the kitchen, into Marmite, the least show-off jar in the cupboard. One is sold by the gram in hushed delicatessens. The other is sold by the tub in every corner shop in the land. In May 2022 they ended up in the same jar. Marmite Truffle landed on 2 May 2022, a 250g Sainsbury's exclusive at a recommended £4.50, billed by Unilever as its "most decadent" spread yet. The launch came with the sort of straight-faced grandeur the joke needs, including a horse-drawn carriage wheeled out to deliver the news. Marmite has always understood that the way to sell something silly is to present it with total seriousness. ## The taste Open the jar and the truffle does its thing immediately. That earthy, slightly mushroomy, faintly garlicky aroma is the first thing you get, before the Marmite underneath has said a word. On toast it reads as a richer, rounder version of the original, with the truffle adding a savoury depth that genuinely works with the yeast rather than fighting it. The two are both umami-heavy, so they pull in the same direction. Where I had a quibble is whether they needed each other at all. Marmite is already one of the most intensely savoury things you can spread on bread. Adding truffle is a bit like adding a second exclamation mark to a sentence that already had one. It is not wrong. It is just not obviously necessary. The version of this I liked best was not on toast but stirred, in a tiny amount, into scrambled eggs or a mushroom risotto, where the truffle note had room to breathe and the dish carried it. ## Worth it? At the time, yes, as a treat and a curiosity. It did well enough that it reappeared on shelves more than once, which tells you the posh gamble paid off. It is a better idea on a special occasion than as your everyday jar, and at four-pound-fifty it was never going to replace the standard tub in the door of the fridge. Of the brand's many attempts to dress Marmite up, this was one of the more convincing. It knew it was being ridiculous, did it with a carriage, and still produced something you would happily eat. That is roughly the whole Marmite trick in one jar. ================================================================================ ## Marmite Dynamite: the chilli jar that went off in 2021 - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-dynamite-chilli-2021-limited-edition - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-dynamite-chilli-2021-limited-edition.md - published: 2021-02-07 - document_id: 488 > In February 2021 Marmite added chilli and called it Dynamite, a six-month Sainsbury's exclusive with a lid that looked set to explode. The gimmick was loud. The spread, surprisingly, was actually good. Marmite has spent decades being the spiciest thing in a British cupboard without containing a single chilli. So when it actually put chilli in the jar, you sort of wondered why it had taken until 2021. The product was Marmite Dynamite, launched on 7 February 2021 as a six-month limited edition, exclusive to Sainsbury's. The branding leaned hard into the gag, a lid styled like the top of a cartoon bomb, and an outdoor campaign with billboards built to look like they had detonated. It was the sort of launch that knows exactly how daft it is and commits anyway, which is usually when Marmite is at its best. Underneath the fireworks it was a straightforward idea: standard Marmite with a chilli kick stirred through. Not a reformulation, not a stunt flavour that fights the original. Just heat, layered onto the umami that was already doing the heavy lifting. ## Is it any good? Yes, and I did not expect to say that. The heat is real but sensible, more a warm afterglow than an assault, and it sits naturally on top of the savoury hit you already want from Marmite. On hot buttered toast it is genuinely better than the original for anyone who likes a bit of fire with breakfast. Stirred into a bowl of noodles or a cheese toastie it does even more, because the chilli gives the umami somewhere to go. The Hate Party will not be swayed, obviously. If you already think Marmite tastes like the inside of a battery, making it spicy is not going to win you over. But for the lovers it was a rare limited edition that earned its place rather than just its headline. ## Worth tracking down? It was a six-month run, so by now any jar you find is well past its moment, and I would not eat a four-year-old one to prove a point. The reason to remember Dynamite is that it was one of the few special editions that worked on the plate as well as the poster. If Marmite ever brings it back as a permanent line, and it should, I will be first in the Sainsbury's queue. ================================================================================ ## The summer the jars ran dry: Marmite's 2020 yeast shortage - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-shortage-2020-covid-brewers-yeast - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-shortage-2020-covid-brewers-yeast.md - published: 2020-06-12 - document_id: 487 > In June 2020 Marmite vanished from shelves in everything but the 250g jar. Pure lockdown logic: the pubs shut, the breweries slowed, and Marmite is made from what is left over when beer is brewed. No pints, no spread. Of all the things lockdown took away in 2020, this is the one that felt most absurdly British: for a few weeks that summer, you could not reliably buy Marmite. The big jars, the little jars, the squeezy bottles, mostly gone. All that survived on the shelf was the standard 250g. The reason is a small lesson in how the jar is actually made, and it is the sort of thing that makes you love the product a bit more once you know it. Marmite is a by-product of brewing. It is built from the spent yeast that breweries have finished with. So the supply of Marmite is quietly chained to the supply of beer. In spring 2020 the pubs shut, the country stopped drinking draught, the breweries throttled right back, and the leftover yeast that normally flows to Burton-on-Trent slowed to a trickle. No pints, no spread. The two things you might have reached for in a difficult year turned out to be the same thing. ## What Unilever actually did Faced with the squeeze, and with everyone panic-buying store-cupboard staples at the same time, Unilever made a sensible call. It paused production of the other pack sizes and concentrated what yeast it had on the 250g jar, the size most households buy. Better to keep one format on the shelf than to spread thin supply across six and run out of all of them. It was reported widely at the time, including by NPR over in the States, who clearly found the idea of a national Marmite crisis irresistible. ## The breweries to the rescue The nice part of the story is how the trade rallied. Carlsberg's brewery at Northampton ended up sending the overwhelming majority of its surplus yeast to Marmite, something like 87 per cent of it, and the volume it shipped climbed steeply through the spring as everyone worked out how serious the pinch was. The numbers that did the rounds had the supply rising by almost half in March, then far more in April and May. And then there was BrewDog, who could never resist a moment like this, offering up yeast from Punk IPA to help keep the nation in Marmite. Whether a single jar was ever made from Punk yeast I genuinely do not know, but it was the right kind of gesture and exactly the headline BrewDog wanted. Beer rescuing the thing that beer makes. You could not script it better. ## How worried should anyone have been? Not very, in the end. This was a wobble, not a collapse. The 250g jar stayed available, the squeeze eased as breweries came back online, and the full range returned to the shelves over the following weeks. Nobody had to ration the toast for long. But it is one of those moments that explains the product better than any advert. Marmite does not come from a factory that simply makes Marmite. It comes from the end of the beer, and when Britain stopped going to the pub, the jar felt it. Of all the supply chains to be reminded of in 2020, that is a fairly cheerful one. ================================================================================ ## The year Marmite swabbed your cheeks: the 2017 Gene Project - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-gene-project-2017-dnafit-genetics - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-gene-project-2017-dnafit-genetics.md - published: 2017-09-25 - document_id: 485 > In 2017 Marmite asked the nation to spit in a tube. The Gene Project claimed your DNA decides whether you love or hate the jar, sold you a testing kit, and lifted sales 14 per cent. The marketing was brilliant, the science thin. Marmite spent the autumn of 2017 asking the public to spit in a tube. I am still not sure whether that was the bravest or the daftest thing the brand has ever done, and I say that as someone who has watched it make a knife, a board game, and a tub of lip balm. The campaign was the Marmite Gene Project, and the premise was exactly what it sounds like. adam&eveDDB, the agency behind "love it or hate it", paid a genetics-testing company called DNAFit to find out whether your feelings about the jar are written into your DNA. DNAFit swabbed the cheeks of 260 adults, fed them a spoonful, and went looking for a pattern. They came back claiming fifteen genetic markers linked to whether a person loves Marmite or recoils from it. Then, naturally, they sold you a kit so you could find out your own score. ## The advert The launch was not subtle. On a Saturday night in September the brand ran a television "roadblock", the same ad appearing across roughly 120 channels at once, with the main film debuting during The X Factor. James Rouse directed it through Outsider. The story was a family at the breakfast table, one lover and one hater, the old domestic battle now dressed up as a question of inheritance. There was an app, built by AnalogFolk, that used facial recognition to guess which side you were on before you had touched a jar. It was, as a piece of advertising, very good. Marmite has always understood that its real product is the argument, not the spread, and the Gene Project turned the argument into a thing you could order through the post. ## The science, such as it was Here is where I put the spoon down. There is genuine science about why people taste things differently. Bitter perception, for instance, is linked to a gene called TAS2R38, which is why some people find certain greens and tonic water unbearable and others do not notice. Taste preference really is part inherited. Nobody serious disputes that. What the Gene Project was, though, is a marketing exercise, not a peer-reviewed paper. A study of 260 people, run for a brand by a company that wants to sell you a swab kit, is not the same thing as published research. Preference for a food as loud as Marmite is shaped by a tangle of genes, what you were given as a child, and whether your dad ate it in front of you every morning. Reducing all of that to "you have the Marmite gene" is the bit that made scientists wince. The clever trick of the campaign was that it never quite claimed more than it could defend, while letting everyone assume it had. ## Did it work? Yes, annoyingly. Sales rose 14 per cent, which made it one of the brand's most successful campaigns, and the following year the Gene Project collected a Pencil at the D&AD awards. So the daft idea was also the brave one, and it paid. I still think about the people who paid actual money to be told, with a straight face, that their dislike of a yeast spread was genetic destiny. There is something very Marmite about that. The brand sold the haters a scientific excuse, and the haters bought it. ================================================================================ ## When Kraft Heinz tried to buy the whole pantry: the 55-hour Marmite scare of 2017 - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/kraft-heinz-unilever-bid-2017-marmite-takeover - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/kraft-heinz-unilever-bid-2017-marmite-takeover.md - published: 2017-02-19 - document_id: 486 > Nine years before McCormick, Marmite had a near-death experience. In February 2017 Kraft Heinz made a £115 billion grab for Unilever, the row lasted about 55 hours, and the government started sharpening pencils. Then it was over. Everyone is talking about McCormick buying Marmite as if a British institution has never been put on the table before. It has. In February 2017, the jar came closer to changing hands than most people remember, and the whole thing was over in about the time it takes to get through a long weekend. The buyer was Kraft Heinz, the American food giant then steered by the cost-cutting investment house 3G Capital. The target was not Marmite on its own. It was the whole of Unilever, Marmite's then owner, in a single cash-and-shares offer worth about £115 billion, or $143 billion in US dollars, at $50 a share. That is not a bid for a spread. That is a bid for the entire British pantry, Marmite, Hellmann's, Colman's, PG Tips, Pot Noodle, and a great deal of soap besides. ## The 55 hours Unilever's board read the offer and did not enjoy it. On 17 February the company rejected it flatly, saying there was "no merit, either financial or strategic", which is about as cold as boardroom English gets. Two days later, on the Sunday, Kraft Heinz issued a joint statement saying it had "amicably" withdrawn. The word "amicably" is doing an enormous amount of lifting there. From first headline to retreat, the drama lasted somewhere around 55 hours. In between, it had time to spook a government. Theresa May, then prime minister, asked officials to look at whether the deal needed scrutiny on the public-interest grounds, the same nervousness about foreign takeovers of British names that you could hear again when McCormick came calling. Unions worried out loud about UK jobs. The City worried about 3G's reputation for stripping costs to the bone. And then, before any of it could turn into a proper national argument, the buyer simply walked away. ## Why it fell apart The polite version is a culture clash. Unilever had spent years talking about sustainability and long-term brand building. 3G's model was the opposite: buy big, cut hard, repeat. The two did not fit, and once Unilever made clear it would fight, the cost of going hostile against a company that size, in a country whose government was already twitching, was not worth it to Kraft Heinz. The deeper lesson is the one worth keeping. Unilever's chief executive at the time, Paul Polman, treated the near-miss as a warning and spent the next stretch tightening the business so it could not be caught napping again. The irony writes itself. The defences built after 2017 are part of the same long story that ends, nine years later, with Unilever choosing to sell the food brands on its own terms to McCormick, rather than having them prised away by someone else. ## Why it matters now So when people say Marmite has never been at risk before, they are wrong by one near-takeover. 2017 was the rehearsal. The cast was different, the buyer was harder-nosed, and the whole thing collapsed before Burton-on-Trent had time to panic. But the question was the same one we are asking again now: who gets to own the things that feel, rightly or not, like ours. As someone with a British accent and an American passport, I had mixed feelings then and I have them now. In 2017 the jar dodged the pond by 55 hours. In 2026 it is sailing across deliberately. The difference is who is holding the wheel. ================================================================================ ## OzEmite versus AussieMite: the time two Australian yeast spreads went to court - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-mite-y-battle-when-australian-yeast-spreads-went-to-court - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-mite-y-battle-when-australian-yeast-spreads-went-to-court.md - published: 2016-08-13 - document_id: 261 > To understand the 2016 case you need to know the two products, both Australian, both yeast extracts, both founded specifically to give patriotic shoppers an alternative to Vegemite after Vegemite was sold to Kraft (later Mondelez) in the United States. AussieMite , the smaller one. ## The combatants To understand the 2016 case you need to know the two products, both Australian, both yeast extracts, both founded specifically to give patriotic shoppers an alternative to Vegemite after Vegemite was sold to Kraft (later Mondelez) in the United States. **AussieMite**, the smaller one. Founded by Roger Ramsey, a former pilot, in 2001. Gluten-free, fortified with B12 and iron, made in small batches and quietly built up a loyal following. By the mid-2010s it was being run from Byron Bay by Ramsey's daughter Elise, with the kind of small-business operating model that depends entirely on word-of-mouth from a few thousand committed customers. **OzEmite**, the bigger one. Founded by Dick Smith, the well-known Australian entrepreneur and aviator, as part of his broader Dick Smith Foods range. Smith registered the OzEmite trademark in 1999. Crucially, he did not actually launch the product until 2012, a thirteen-year gap. When it did launch, it was a gluten-free yeast extract, broadly similar to AussieMite in formulation but considerably more heavily marketed. You can already see where this is going. ## The names OzEmite. AussieMite. Read them out loud. Phonetically identical, or close enough that the average Australian shopper will register them as the same word. Spelt differently but pronounced as the same product name. This is the source of the fight. Elise Ramsey, fighting to defend the smaller brand, summed it up as well as anyone: "The names sound exactly the same. I'm a bit tired of explaining to potential suppliers that the two products are different." For a small business trying to build trade-buyer relationships, having a larger and louder competitor with a phonetically-identical name is genuinely damaging. AussieMite's potential distributors kept thinking they were already stocking the product, and saying so to the AussieMite team. Hence the lawsuit. ## The argument Australian trademark law (like UK and US law) requires that a registered trademark be "genuinely used" in commerce. If you sit on a trademark without using it for three continuous years, a competitor can challenge the registration and have it struck from the register. Roger Ramsey's argument was simple. Dick Smith registered OzEmite in 1999. He did not launch the product until 2012. That is thirteen years of non-use, much longer than the three-year threshold. The OzEmite trademark should therefore be cancelled. The Australian Trade Marks Office agreed. They ruled in AussieMite's favour and ordered the OzEmite mark removed from the register. It looked like AussieMite had won. Dick Smith, as is his prerogative, appealed to the Federal Court. ## The judgment On 12 August 2016, Justice Katzmann delivered a judgment that reversed the Trade Marks Office decision. Her reasoning was that "use" of a trademark, properly understood, includes promotional and marketing activity, not just actual product sales. Dick Smith had been talking publicly about OzEmite for years before the 2012 launch. He had appeared in media interviews discussing the product. He had made promotional statements. All of that, in Katzmann J's analysis, counted as use of the trademark. The thirteen-year gap was not a gap. It was a sustained period of promotional pre-launch activity, just without actual product on shelves. The OzEmite trademark was restored. AussieMite were ordered to pay Dick Smith's legal costs. Both products were allowed to remain on shelves. ## Why this is more interesting than it sounds It is a legal case about yeast extract spreads, and in that sense it is inherently small. But the principle Justice Katzmann established has been cited several times since in Australian trademark law, and it is a real precedent. Promotional use of a trademark, even without sales, can keep it alive on the register. For brand-strategy purposes this matters. It means a company can register a name and then sit on it for years while building anticipation, without losing the rights, provided they keep talking about it in public. That is a useful capability to have, and one that smaller competitors should now factor in when they look at apparently-dormant trademarks held by larger players. The case also illustrates something about the dynamics of small-business-versus-large-business commercial law. The Ramsey family, defending a smaller business in court, ended up paying a much larger company's legal costs. The "champion of Australian small business" branding that Dick Smith had built up through Dick Smith Foods was, in this case, being deployed against a small Australian competitor. The optics, as Elise Ramsey pointed out, were not flattering. ## What happened to the products **OzEmite**: Dick Smith Foods closed down in 2018, citing competition from Aldi. But OzEmite survived the corporate shutdown and is now produced by Spring Gully Foods. Still available in Australian supermarkets, still gluten-free, still trading under the name Smith successfully defended. **AussieMite**: still operating out of Byron Bay, still run by the Ramsey family, still a small but real business. The court loss did not kill the brand, but it cannot have helped. **Vegemite**: in a small piece of irony, Vegemite itself returned to Australian ownership in 2017 when Bega Group bought it back from Mondelez. The whole patriotic-alternative justification for OzEmite and AussieMite became, in that moment, less commercially urgent. The Vegemite-must-be-Australian-owned campaign had succeeded by the back door, just not via the OzEmite or AussieMite routes. ## A British footnote This is, from a British perspective, mostly an Australian story. But it touches Marmite tangentially. Marmite is the original. Vegemite is the Australian rip-off from 1922 (see [the global variations](/articles/marmite-global-variations) for the full global-variations note). OzEmite and AussieMite are both attempts to displace the Australian-but-now-foreign-owned Vegemite with smaller, Australian-owned rivals. The whole Australian yeast-extract market exists in a kind of permanent low-level court of public opinion about identity, ownership, and authenticity that British Marmite has, by comparison, never had to engage with. The British view of all this tends to be quietly amused. We have one Marmite. It comes from Burton. It is owned by Unilever (and shortly by McCormick). Nobody in Britain has ever felt the need to launch BritEmite or RealMite as a patriotic alternative. The Australian instinct to litigate the question of which yeast extract is the proper one is, in its way, a small national virtue. Wherever you sit on the question, OzEmite versus AussieMite remains the most entertaining trademark dispute the yeast-extract category has ever produced. It is unlikely ever to be topped. *Sources: Federal Court of Australia judgment, August 2016; contemporary Australian Financial Review and Sydney Morning Herald coverage; the Spring Gully Foods company history.* --- ================================================================================ ## Marmite Bans Cringe Pet Names - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-bans-the-most-hated-pet-names-from-personalised-marmite-valentine-jars - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-bans-the-most-hated-pet-names-from-personalised-marmite-valentine-jars.md - published: 2016-02-04 - document_id: 158 > For a limited time, you can get yourself a personalised, Valentine's Marmite jar. However, Britain's most cringe-worthy pet names are banned from appearing on the jars. For a limited time, you can get yourself a personalised, Valentine's Marmite jar. However, Britain's most cringe-worthy pet names are banned from appearing on the jars. So, you are out of luck if your nearest and dearest has the pet name; 'Bae', 'Snookums' or 'Baby Cakes', everything else, you are good to go.... Here is the full press release..... Marmite is today launching its new limited edition Valentine's Day jars, which lovers can personalise with the name of their other half via the spread's Facebook page. However, the service comes with a catch, as the makers of the popular toast topper have also banned Britain's most cringe-worthy pet names from appearing on the iconic jars. New research (Research was carried out by One Poll, surveying a total of 2,000 UK adults [so lets not judge the whole country... - ED] ) shows that 'Bae', 'Snookums' and 'Baby Cakes' are the country's top three most hated terms of endearment. In response, Marmite will be closing the lid on these names once and for all by banning then from its personalisation service. With 'Bae' having seen a huge surge in usage amongst teens during 2015, it's no surprise that this particularly stomach-curdling term has made it into the top three - with 18-24 year olds being revealed as the biggest 'Bae' haters, accounting for a third of the votes. By contrast, some of the most tolerated names included 'Honey' and 'Treacle', with 'Sweetness' coming in as the least-hated of the lot, garnering only 1.8% of the vote. And whilst the female voice led the way for votes against the top three terms, men outnumbered women when it came to their hatred of the more 'traditional' pet names such as 'Darling' and 'Babes'. Philippa Atkinson, Marmite Brand Manager, commented: "We're delighted to launch our limited edition Valentine's Day jars just in time for lovers to purchase for their 'bae'. We appreciate that Marmite is a spread best enjoyed at breakfast, and nobody wants a side helping of nausea first thing in the morning, so thought it made perfect sense to ban the most hated pet names. Who knows, we may even be responsible for saving some relationships along the way..." Valentine's romancers will be able to choose between two limited edition 'Pot of Love' designs - one with the line "Will you be my Valentine?" and one declaring "Love me or hate me, I'm yours". For those looking to surprise their loved ones with a personalised, limited edition Valentine's jar of Marmite, these will be available to customise and purchase at the personalisation Facebook app. The jars will be retailing at £4.99. ================================================================================ ## The Marmasaurus Dictionary - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-marmasaurus-the-urban-dictionary-of-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-marmasaurus-the-urban-dictionary-of-marmite.md - published: 2015-09-24 - document_id: 157 > Marmite has launched the ' Marmasaurus ', the definitive guide to all Marmite-related terminology, downloadable as an e-book for free. The Marmasaurus covers the words used by Marmite lovers when describing their yeasty joys. Marmite has launched the 'Marmasaurus', the definitive guide to all Marmite-related terminology, downloadable as an e-book for free. The Marmasaurus covers the words used by Marmite lovers when describing their yeasty joys. Created by the newly formed Ministry of Marmite, the primary official body responsible for all aspects of Marmite-related activity in the UK, the Marmasaurus is an urban dictionary that defines the Marmite habits of the nation, and should be the go-to glossary for yeast aficionados. The Marmasaurus (which I think sounds like a yeast eating dinosaur) includes terms such as:
Some things are only whispered in dark corners. Others stride out of the dark corners and confront you with heroic poses and manly stances. Manly Marmite Hiking Fudge is only suitable for those with far horizons in their eyes, windswept hair and the ability to face down an irate bear with nothing but a firm word and small periodical. This stuff may put hairs on your chest (irrespective of gender, goodness knows I had to wax for weeks after simply testing it). It will certainly fortify you through a hike of even comparatively strenuous conditions. It's marmite. And fudge. Well actually it's a bitter dark chocolate forged with marmite, over a lighter fudgy-marmite base and topped with a sprinkling of crushed, lightly salted cashew nuts. It's salty, sweet, marmity and dangerous.From Etsy.com ================================================================================ ## He Became 'Saire Marmite' - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/saire-marmite-a-man-who-loves-marmite-so-much-he-changed-his-name - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/saire-marmite-a-man-who-loves-marmite-so-much-he-changed-his-name.md - published: 2013-10-09 - document_id: 149 > Saire Marmite, no joke, that's his name. He used to be Saire May, but recently this Marmite Super-Fan changed his name by deed-poll. Saire Marmite, no joke, that's his name. He used to be Saire May, but recently this Marmite Super-Fan changed his name by deed-poll. The 38-year-old, North Shields resident says that he easily gets through a jar a week and has a collection of Marmite paraphernalia including limited edition jars, cufflinks and a recipe book dating back to the Second World War. In a press release he said: "I'm not exactly sure how old I was when I first tried Marmite, but I just remember eating it as far back as I can remember. "I like the smell, the taste, the texture. I think I pretty much like everything about it." "I changed my name to show my devotion and passion for Marmite - changing your name to the thing you have passion for shows it to the world." "My family think I'm mad. However my mum just shrugged her shoulders, she expects this kind of thing from me. I already have plenty more Marmite-mad ideas in the pipeline and will continue to do my bit to spread the love and help End Marmite Neglect." Mr Marmite, who is engaged to 32-year-old Krystie Lennon, says he eats a lot of the spread and can easily go through a jar a week. And how does he introduce himself to strangers? "I tend to say 'Hi, I'm Saire Marmite', although on the phone recently I had to say 'This is not a joke, I am Mr Marmite.'" I applaud you Mr Marmite, I see a bright future in memorabilia and Mr Men books :-)
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## End Marmite Neglect
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/end-marmite-neglect
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/end-marmite-neglect.md
- published: 2013-08-30
- document_id: 148
> [UPDATE]: Looks like Marmite have taken down their video Oh my, what a fuss those at Marmite have created. Not only does Marmite have the genius Love or Hate advertising about the product, now we have Love or Hate about their adverts. No marketing campaign has created suck vitriol.
[UPDATE]: Looks like Marmite have taken down their video
Oh my, what a fuss those at Marmite have created. Not only does Marmite have the genius Love or Hate advertising about the product, now we have Love or Hate about their adverts.
No marketing campaign has created suck vitriol.
You decide how you feel about the advert, but please, I am not part of Marmite or Unilever and if you wish to complain, please don't email me anymore, I've had enough of the hate mail.
If you want a chance to be in lights and being an Oxford Street super star? Love Marmite or hate Marmite, you could shine in the Marmite Oxford Street Xmas Lights by simply uploading your photo via the app on the Marmite Facebook page. Smile if you love, grimace if you hate it, there's space for lovers and haters!
https://www.facebook.com/Marmite/app_478792335486805
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## Visit to Marmite HQ
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/visit-to-marmite-hq-for-oxford-street-lights-briefing
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/visit-to-marmite-hq-for-oxford-street-lights-briefing.md
- published: 2012-11-02
- document_id: 146
> With just a few days to go before the big event, I went down to London to the Marmite HQ for a briefing on the what, where and who of the switch on event. Headlining will be Robbie Williams with Leona Lewis and Lawson. Further entertainment will come from the cast of Scrooge.
With just a few days to go before the big event, I went down to London to the Marmite HQ for a briefing on the what, where and who of the switch on event. Headlining will be Robbie Williams with Leona Lewis and Lawson. Further entertainment will come from the cast of Scrooge. This years switch on is going to be an awesome event and I will be behind the scenes covering it all!
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## Win VIP Oxford St Lights Tickets
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-gold-oxford-street-christmas-lights-competition-now-live-on-facebook
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-gold-oxford-street-christmas-lights-competition-now-live-on-facebook.md
- published: 2012-10-26
- document_id: 145
> Marmite is offering VIP tickets to the Marmite Gold Oxford Street Christmas Lights event. The lucky winner and a friend will be on stage for the switch on show, rub shoulders with the stars, and a enjoy a luxury hotel stay at The Langham hotel and a £250 dinner with cocktails at Roux at the Landau.
Marmite is offering VIP tickets to the Marmite Gold Oxford Street Christmas Lights event.
The lucky winner and a friend will be on stage for the switch on show, rub shoulders with the stars, and a enjoy a luxury hotel stay at The Langham hotel and a £250 dinner with cocktails at Roux at the Landau.
Visit the Marmite Facebook page to enter https://www.facebook.com/marmite?sk=app_430193683684896
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## Robbie Williams Lights Oxford St
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/robbie-williams-to-switch-on-oxford-st-christmas-lights-with-leona-lewis-and-boy-band-lawson
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/robbie-williams-to-switch-on-oxford-st-christmas-lights-with-leona-lewis-and-boy-band-lawson.md
- published: 2012-10-26
- document_id: 144
> On Monday 5 November Robbie Williams is to switch on the UK's most spectacular and iconic Christmas Lights on London's Oxford Street, hosted by House of Fraser - and I will be the behind the scenes blogger! I will be asking the Marmite questions you want asked and reporting on the whole day.
On Monday 5 November Robbie Williams is to switch on the UK's most spectacular and iconic Christmas Lights on London's Oxford Street, hosted by House of Fraser - and I will be the behind the scenes blogger! I will be asking the Marmite questions you want asked and reporting on the whole day.
Â
The former Take That star, who has sold over 60 million solo albums worldwide, will take to the stage in front of thousands of shoppers eager to be a part of the Christmas celebrations on the world's most famous high street. In addition to performing some of his hit singles, Robbie will treat shoppers to a live performance of his single, Candy â a Christmas number one contender taken from his new album 'Take the Crown' â released on 5th November.
The Marmite Oxford Street Christmas Lights, which for the first time gives people the chance to appear within the mile long interactive display, will kick start the festive season in style with tens of thousands gathering on Oxford Street for the switch-on of the 300,000 bulbs of light that are hoisted above the street, signalling the start of Christmas in London's West End.
Â
This year's switch-on will be a star-studded affair with pop sensation Leona Lewis, and four-piece boy band Lawson, supporting the headline act and treating the crowds to a variety of hits to get the celebrations underway. The catwalk stage, accompanied by two viewing screens will be hosted outside premium British department store House of Fraser and presented by official radio partner Heart 106.2. The proceedings will kick off at 5pm, hosted by Heart presenters Jamie Theakston and Emma Bunton.
For the first time, the Oxford Street Christmas Lights switch-on will be a ticketed event, with a 3,500 capacity golden viewing circle for those lucky enough to secure a place. Those wanting to be a part of this year's lights switch-on must apply for free tickets from Monday, via the Heart 106.2 website - heart.co.uk
Â
Robbie Williams says: "Oxford Street is a fantastic place to do your Christmas shopping and it's great to be part of the celebrations. I can't believe I am turning on the lights! 'Take the Crown' is released on the same day - 5th November - and I'm looking forward to performing for the amazing crowds on London's Oxford Street."
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## Reporting from Oxford St Lights
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-s-on-the-ground-roving-reporter-for-oxford-st-lights-switch-on-will-be-me
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-s-on-the-ground-roving-reporter-for-oxford-st-lights-switch-on-will-be-me.md
- published: 2012-10-10
- document_id: 143
> Well, November 5th is going to be fun, I have been asked to be the official 'behind the scenes' blogger/reported for the switch on of the Oxford St lights in London.
Well, November 5th is going to be fun, I have been asked to be the official 'behind the scenes' blogger/reported for the switch on of the Oxford St lights in London.
I'll be giving the fans eye view of the proceedings and will hopefully be doing a bit of video reporting as well as Facebook and Twitter updates.
I don't know who the 'talent' is going to be yet, but if you would like me to ask any specific question, just post them to me and I will see what I can do!
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## Marmife: the dedicated Marmite knife, and whether you actually need one
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmife-a-knife-for-marmite-not-marmite-on-wife
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmife-a-knife-for-marmite-not-marmite-on-wife.md
- published: 2012-10-09
- document_id: 141
> This could be seen as a shark jumping moment, but perhaps it's not such a bad idea when you think about it. Marmite has launched a Marmife, a knife designed to get into the nooks and crannies of a Marmite jar to get every last scrap - essential when you are down to you last jar...
This could be seen as a shark jumping moment, but perhaps it's not such a bad idea when you think about it. Marmite has launched a Marmife, a knife designed to get into the nooks and crannies of a Marmite jar to get every last scrap - essential when you are down to you last jar...
If you can get a specialised spoon for honey or a butter knife, why not for Marmite? Joanne ORiada, said: "We've had comments from our Facebook community about the difficulty people have in getting all their Marmite out of the jar. Now, finally, we have a solution that reaches the spots other utensils just can't get to." Has she not tried a finger?
The Marmife is a silicone spatula shaped around a steel core to give it a bit of strenght. It took 15 re-designs to get the Marmife just right, so perhaps it should find a place with your cutlery .
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## Marmite Sponsors Oxford St Lights
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-sponsoring-london-s-2012-oxford-interactive-street-christmas-lights
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-sponsoring-london-s-2012-oxford-interactive-street-christmas-lights.md
- published: 2012-10-03
- document_id: 142
> Marmite is giving you the chance to tell the world what you think of Marmite, on a specially designed interactive banner overlooking Selfridges as part of the Oxford Street lights.
Marmite is giving you the chance to tell the world what you think of Marmite, on a specially designed interactive banner overlooking Selfridges as part of the Oxford Street lights.
The street lights will feature classic animated Christmas characters with a love/hate twist and will run from Marble Arch to Poland Street for six weeks from Monday November 5th.
Get your moment of fame by uploading a photo on Marmite's Facebook page. You will be sent an email with a time frame for when your image will appear so you can see youself up in lights :-) If you can't make it in person, there will be a webcam and an online gallery.
Shoppers on Oxford Street will also be able to get involved through an interactive bus shelter located near Bond Street tube station. From 26 November the shelter will house a camera for shoppers to take a photo which will be uploaded to the lights within three minutes.
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## Marmite Gold: the 2010 edible gold-leaf limited edition explained
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/a-bit-of-bling-for-your-marmite-breakfast-marmite-gold
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/a-bit-of-bling-for-your-marmite-breakfast-marmite-gold.md
- published: 2012-09-09
- document_id: 140
> Marmite Gold, it has the same taste as but with the addition of edible gold flecks. GOLD FLECKS! It's a Christmas special Marmite, but you can't help but think that it coincides nicely with London 2012.
Marmite Gold, it has the same taste as but with the addition of edible gold flecks. GOLD FLECKS!
It's a Christmas special Marmite, but you can't help but think that it coincides nicely with London 2012.
What with the Golden Jubilee, the Gold rush of Medals for our Olympians this summer and that it its aslso the 110th Anniversary of Marmite, Marmite Gold is a celbration of celebrations.
It is the first time that the spread has visibly changed, I guess thats what happens when you add real edible gold flecks and add bling to your breakfast.
Marmite Gold will available in all good supermarkets and from http://www.marmiteshop.co.uk from the week beginneing 9th September.
================================================================================
## Marmite Ukulele Song
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-ukulele-song
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-ukulele-song.md
- published: 2012-07-13
- document_id: 139
> We love Marmite and we love the sweet sound of the Ukulele, so we asked LanaBel to sing us a song exclusively for http://www.iLoveMarmite.com
We love Marmite and we love the sweet sound of the Ukulele, so we asked LanaBel to sing us a song exclusively for http://www.iLoveMarmite.com
As the guardian of ILoveMarmite.com, I get to product test a lot of new Marmite products. This year has been no exception. The most exciting product I have been able to taste-test is the product of a new joint venture between Marmite and Vaseline. You read right, MARMITE AND VASELINE. As you can see from the photo, the product is very real and I have been trialling it since the new year.
Source: https://web.archive.org/web/20120426044313/http://www.ilovemarmite.com/
================================================================================ ## Celebrate 60 years of Ma'amite monarchy - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/celebrate-60-years-of-ma-amite-monarchy - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/celebrate-60-years-of-ma-amite-monarchy.md - published: 2012-04-05 - document_id: 135 > Marmite, has been given a makeover to celebrate the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. The Royal Marmite makes it the most appropriate kitchen table condiment for people wanting to toast the Queen's 60th year as the longest reigning Marmite monarch Tuesday 5th June. Marmite, has been given a makeover to celebrate the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. The Royal Marmite makes it the most appropriate kitchen table condiment for people wanting to toast the Queen's 60th year as the longest reigning Marmite monarch Tuesday 5th June. Ma'amite will be available at all good high street retailers, nationwide â including Sainsbury's, Tesco, Waitrose, Morrisons and Co-op â as well as online at http://www.marmiteshop.co.uk from Monday 30th April. Ma'amite has an RRP of £2.72 â so grab it while stocks last and don't forget to get extras as we now know that these things don't get made for a second run. ================================================================================ ## MARMITE XO - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-xo-tasting-marmarati - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-xo-tasting-marmarati.md - published: 2012-03-14 - document_id: 233 > The new, soon to be released Marmite XO tasting and swearing in of new Marmarati. myself (Seamus) and my partner Patrina (1st and 2nd Level Marmarati ;-) and the dancers from MIJive.The new, soon to be released Marmite XO tasting and swearing in of new Marmarati. myself (Seamus) and my partner Patrina (1st and 2nd Level Marmarati ;-) and the dancers from MIJive. The Marmite song is by Jonathan Taylor
Source: https://web.archive.org/web/20120315224424/http://www.ilovemarmite.com/marmite-articles.asp
================================================================================ ## John Bercow Joins Love Party - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/love-party-interview-john-bercow - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/love-party-interview-john-bercow.md - published: 2012-03-14 - document_id: 232 > It's the great debate, share the marmite Love with the Love Party, or stop the Spread?It's the great debate, share the marmite Love with the Love Party, or stop the Spread? I caught up with the John Bercow, The Speaker of the House of Commons on his election campaign to ask; "Where does he stand on the Marmite question?"
Source: https://web.archive.org/web/20120315224424/http://www.ilovemarmite.com/marmite-articles.asp
================================================================================ ## Was Marmite banned in Denmark? The truth behind the 2011 'ban' - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/was-marmite-banned-in-denmark - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/was-marmite-banned-in-denmark.md - published: 2011-05-26 - document_id: 680 > In 2011 the world's papers announced that Denmark had banned Marmite. It had not, and the Danish food authority said so directly. What actually happened was a 2004 law on vitamin-fortified foods, a marketing application nobody had filed, and a very good headline. The real story of the Anglo-Danish Marmite war. Every few years a story goes round that Denmark banned Marmite. It surfaced with real force, ran in papers all over the world, and produced the kind of headlines a brand cannot buy. British expats in Copenhagen were quoted mourning their lost jars. The phrase "Anglo-Danish Marmite war" got an outing. Somewhere a columnist reached for Churchill. It was not true. Denmark never banned Marmite. ## What the Danes actually said The clearest correction came from the Danes themselves, and it was blunt enough to use as a headline, which the Danish food-industry press duly did: > **Fødevarestyrelsen har ikke forbudt Marmite.** > > The Danish Veterinary and Food Administration has not banned Marmite. The authority said the same thing in English, through the Danish embassy in London, for the benefit of the papers that had got it wrong: neither Marmite nor Vegemite nor anything like them had been banned. What Danish law actually required was approval before sale. In the regulator's own words, "Ifølge de danske regler skal fødevarer, der er tilsat vitaminer, mineraler og andre stoffer være godkendt af Fødevarestyrelsen, før de kan markedsføres i Danmark", which is to say that foods with added vitamins, minerals or other substances must be approved by the food authority before they can be sold in Denmark. No application for Marmite had ever arrived. The real situation, once you scrape the outrage off it, was tiny. A single importer, a British shop in Denmark, was told it could not keep selling fortified Marmite until the product was approved. Rather than fill in the form, it stopped. That was the entire ban: one shop and one unfiled application. By then the story had reached Brussels, where a member of the European Parliament tabled a formal written question titled, with no apparent irony, "Forbud mod marmit i Danmark", the ban on Marmite in Denmark, about a ban that did not exist. So if it was not banned, what was it? ## The actual rule Denmark has had a law since 2004 covering foods that are fortified with added vitamins and minerals. The principle is the cautious one: a food that has had extra vitamins or minerals added to it cannot be sold in Denmark until the food authority has assessed it and approved it. The worry behind the law is overdose, people unknowingly stacking fortified product on fortified product until they pass a safe limit for this or that nutrient. Whatever you think of that as policy, it is a rule about a category of food, not a hit list of brands. Marmite has B vitamins added to it, and has since the 1930s. That puts it squarely in the fortified category. And the thing that actually kept it off Danish shelves was mundane to the point of comedy: nobody had submitted an application to get it approved. The food authority had not received a request to market Marmite, so Marmite had no authorisation, so a shop selling it was technically selling an unapproved fortified food. Not banned. Unauthorised, for want of a form. This is the difference the headlines flattened. "Denmark bans Marmite for having too many vitamins" is a story. "British firm has not filed a Danish fortification application" is not. One of them went round the world. ## The grain of truth A good myth usually has a true thing at the centre of it, and this one does. If you were a British expat in Aarhus in 2011 with a craving and an empty cupboard, the legal distinction between "banned" and "not specifically approved" made no difference to you at all. Either way the jar was not in the shop. From the consumer's end it looked exactly like a ban, walked like a ban, and ruined toast like a ban. So people called it one. It did not help that Vegemite got swept into the same story, which let everyone widen it into yeast extract against the Danish state, the Anglo-Australian-Danish front of a war nobody had declared. The truth, that other fortified foods had gone through the approval process and were on sale perfectly legally in Denmark, was duller and arrived later and convinced no one who had already enjoyed being outraged. ## So, the verdict Marmite was not banned in Denmark. It lacked the marketing authorisation that Danish law requires for any vitamin-fortified food, because no one had applied for one, and a rule about fortification got retold as a rule about Marmite. The Danish food authority said as much at the time, in plain language, to very little effect. It is a small lesson in how a Marmite story behaves once it gets loose. Take a dry piece of food-additive regulation, add a jar that half the country already has strong feelings about, and you do not get a clarification. You get a war. Nobody starts an Anglo-Danish incident over an unapproved breakfast cereal. They start one over Marmite, because Marmite is the kind of thing people are ready to go to the barricades about before they have checked whether there is anything to fight. For what is actually in the jar, including the B vitamins at the heart of all this, there is [a piece on the ingredients](/articles/marmite-ingredients-what-is-marmite-made-of). For whether any of it is good for you, [the honest nutrition answer](/articles/is-marmite-good-for-you-nutrition-honest-answer) has its own. ================================================================================ ## Marmite Vaseline lip balm review: what it's actually like to wear yeast extract on your lips - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/treat-your-lips-with-marmite-vaseline-review - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/treat-your-lips-with-marmite-vaseline-review.md - published: 2011-03-31 - document_id: 134 > As the guardian of ILoveMarmite.com, I get to product test a lot of new Marmite products. This year has been no exception. The most exciting product I have been able to taste-test is the product of a new joint venture between Marmite and Vaseline. You read that right, MARMITE AND VASELINE. As the guardian of ILoveMarmite.com, I get to product test a lot of new Marmite products. This year has been no exception. The most exciting product I have been able to taste-test is the product of a new joint venture between Marmite and Vaseline. You read that right, MARMITE AND VASELINE. As you can see from the photo, the product is very real and I have been trialling it since the new year. First, a bit of background. John Skelton, the genius behind the many new Marmite products you get to eat these days, produced this amazing blend of Vaseline (a by-product of the petroleum industry) and Marmite (a by-product of the brewing industry), to create the 'New Vaseline Lip Therapy Marmite'. I call is Marmite Vaseline, it's easier. The official line is that you don't need to lather your lips with Marmite paste to keep them supple anymore. Now, anyone who has suffered from a bout of 'dry lips' will be overjoyed that there is a new Marmite addition to the Vaseline Lip Therapy range. Luckily for me, I've been able to test run Marmite Vaseline. Whilst snowboarding this year, I was able to sooth my chapped lips using the savoury lip balm. Not only did it sooth my lips, it was a welcome snack between getting off the slopes and dinner. My son, as some of you know from reading this website, is just over one year old and absolutely loves Marmite. If Marmite isn't on his toast in the morning, he throws a paddy. Even worse, if he hasn't had his Marmite on toast, the morning journey to nursery if a screaming nightmare. Marmite Vaseline solves this problem. To keep him calm, I just smooth a thick layer onto his lips and the only noise during the journey comming from my son is the smacking of lips. As you can see, Vaseline Lip Therapy Marmite (to give it it's full name) is quite an amazing product and its' uses are surely wide and diverse. When it hits the shop shelves later this month, I highly recommend you buy a tin, you never know when it will save your life! You can find out more at facebook.com/Vaseline ================================================================================ ## The Great Marmite Heist - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/breaking-news-marmite-heist-60-grand-worth-of-marmite-christmas-stock-nicked - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/breaking-news-marmite-heist-60-grand-worth-of-marmite-christmas-stock-nicked.md - published: 2010-11-25 - document_id: 133 > Last week thieves broke into a warehouse in West Yorkshire and stole over £60,000 worth of Marmite Christmas stock, including 15,000 bars of the newly launched chocolate bar which at this stage is critical â high-peak Christmas season / limited edition and stock available. Last week thieves broke into a warehouse in West Yorkshire and stole over £60,000 worth of Marmite Christmas stock, including 15,000 bars of the newly launched chocolate bar which at this stage is critical â high-peak Christmas season / limited edition and stock available. Fully aware that this might sound like a "far-fetched story" I can assure you it happened. On this note, anyone with information can call West Yorkshire Police on 0845 60 60 606 or Crimestoppers anonymously on 0800 555 111. More soon. ================================================================================ ## Updates from the Monumite unveiling - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/updates-from-the-monumite-unveiling - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/updates-from-the-monumite-unveiling.md - published: 2010-10-18 - document_id: 132 > I have made the trip to Burton to be apart of the unveiling of the 'Monumite', the shrine for al Marmite lovers. I have made the trip to Burton to be apart of the unveiling of the 'Monumite', the shrine for al Marmite lovers. ================================================================================ ## Monumite: The Marmite Shrine - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/my-mate-monumite-marmite-shrine-to-be-unveiled-in-burton-town-centre - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/my-mate-monumite-marmite-shrine-to-be-unveiled-in-burton-town-centre.md - published: 2010-10-18 - document_id: 131 > So, I'm about to make the trek to Burton-upon-trent, a place I haven't been to since I was a boy, to be at the unveiling of the Monumite. So, I'm about to make the trek to Burton-upon-trent, a place I haven't been to since I was a boy, to be at the unveiling of the Monumite. As such, I don't have time to do my usual critical appraisal of the Monumite press release, so here it is in it's full gushing detail :-) Nicknamed 'Monumite', the sculpture is positioned in the heart of Burton on Trent, overlooking the river, which is both Marmite's spiritual home and a town that has been closely associated with the brewing industry for many centuries. The sculpture incorporates an innovative digital element, was created by Spark and has been developed in partnership with, JAM, East Staffordshire Borough Council and Unilever. Having conceived the project, Creative agency Spark commissioned JAM to design the sculpture. Spark's aim was to produce a sustainable and long-term piece of public art to celebrate Marmite's relationship with Burton and for the local community and Marmite lovers across the UK to enjoy. JAM's design references the shape of the iconic Marmite jar, has been carved from Portland stone limestone and will provide seating for children as well as being a platform for adults at public events. Those visitors who make the 'pilgrimage' to the shrine will also be able to download a host of unique content to their mobile phone via Bluetooth transmitter. The content celebrates Marmite and Burton's history and heritage and includes: a beautiful digital flythrough of pictures from the Marmite archive, this will later incorporate Marmite love notes from fans; a quirky animation illustrating how Marmite is made; a podcast telling the story of Marmite and Burton from Marmite's Master Blender, St John Skelton; -wider tourism information about the local area. The digital rendering and animation have been produced by local Digital artist Mark Yorke with support from Staffordshire County Council. Visitors will also be able to use their mobile phones to tell friends when they 'check-in' to the Marmite shrine, using location-based social networking website Foursquare and the new Facebook 'Places' function. Tom Denyard, Marketing Manager at Unilever commented: "We were delighted to have joined forces with East Staffordshire Council, Spark and JAM on this unique and exciting project. We think the final sculpture perfectly represents and celebrates our long-standing relationship with Burton and the local area. We hope Marmite fans up and down the county enjoy this new addition to the British cultural landscape." Jamie Anley, Director of JAM commented: "We intended to keep the design of the piece very simple. The form of the Marmite jar is so instantly recognisable; we wanted to celebrate this iconicity by producing a schematic representation of it." Mark Prescott, Director of Spark added: "We thought the idea of creating a long term artistic project would prove a compelling finale to Marmite's campaign. Spark have thoroughly enjoyed delivering the project with our partners. The sculpture forms an elegant end to the award-winning Love/Hate election campaign. The aim of the shrine was to provide Burton and Marmite fans with an authentic and innovative piece of public art and we hope it will drive new visitors to the area and be treasured for many years to come." ========================================= So there you have it, a lasting edifice to Marmite. ================================================================================ ## 9 Month Old tries Marmite Chocolate - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/9-month-old-tries-marmite-chocolate - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/9-month-old-tries-marmite-chocolate.md - published: 2010-10-01 - document_id: 130 > My 9 month old son, Torin, is very much a Marmite baby. He was brought into the world with Marmite being his mothers main food for many months and since he was only a few months old, he has loved the taste of Marmite and has it daily on toast for breakfast. My 9 month old son, Torin, is very much a Marmite baby. He was brought into the world with Marmite being his mothers main food for many months and since he was only a few months old, he has loved the taste of Marmite and has it daily on toast for breakfast. The new Marmite Chocolate, is it a Marmite taste sensation too far.....?
Our aim is to Spread the Love of Marmite, first across this country and then across the world.
Every man, woman and child in the world is a Marmite lover. They just may not know it yet. Many are ignorant of Marmite's many qualities, like how good it tastes and how it's full of B vitamins. Many believe instead the vicious lies told about it by the Hate Party. The first priority therefore of the Love Party is one of education. Once the wonderful truth about Marmite is known throughout the world, there will be no more fear or hatred. Only love.
Our mission is to Stop the Spread of Marmite by reducing, and ultimately terminating, its production and consumption.
We believe that Marmite is a cankerous evil and responsible for much of what is wrong in this society. We reject the notion that the presence of B vitamins in Marmite justifies its continuing presence in this country.
Although the Hate Party's long-term goal is for a total ban on Marmite, we will settle in the short term for containing the threat. We want less of it produced, we want less of it eaten, and we want the rights of those innocent taxpayers who fear contamination properly protected.
================================================================================
## Marmite XO
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-xo
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-xo.md
- published: 2010-02-22
- document_id: 123
> The new, soon to be released Marmite XO tasting and swearing in of new Marmarati. myself (Seamus) and my partner Patrina (1st and 2nd Level Marmarati ;-) and the dancers from MIJive .
The new, soon to be released Marmite XO tasting and swearing in of new Marmarati. myself (Seamus) and my partner Patrina (1st and 2nd Level Marmarati ;-) and the dancers from MIJive. The Marmite song is by Jonathan Taylor
Adam, being American, started from honest bewilderment: he was not sure what Marmite even was, and thought he might have tried it once. When Vegemite came up as a comparison, he delivered the line of the day, calling Vegemite "the Pepsi of the yeast extract", which casts Marmite as the real thing. My Australian friends would, I suspect, beg to differ. There was also some fittingly MythBusters talk of hunting down bogus correlations.
================================================================================
## Choose the Jar for new MARMITE XO
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/choose-the-jar-for-new-marmite-xo
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/choose-the-jar-for-new-marmite-xo.md
- published: 2009-12-04
- document_id: 120
> Here are two designs that are on the cards for the new Marmite XO (eXtra Old). As a member of the Marmarati (:-), I have been asked to solicit your favourite design from the two on offer. Just leave your choice in the comments box and I will pass on your decision!
Here are two designs that are on the cards for the new Marmite XO (eXtra Old). As a member of the Marmarati (:-), I have been asked to solicit your favourite design from the two on offer.
"
Her verdict landed firmly on the love side, with the caveat every veteran knows by heart: it has to be thinly spread, because a little goes a very long way. Be sparing. It is the most repeated piece of Marmite wisdom there is, and she is quite right.
from Amazon.
So what was the verdict? Jon came back instantly, and emphatically, on the love side. He even did a bit of my job for me, recommending the Marmite-and-Marston's cricket edition (the one made with the brewer's yeast) before it sold out, and cheerfully owning up to a stash of something like eight pots at home. Devotion or hoarding, I could not quite tell.
================================================================================
## The Mish-mash Dictionary of Marmite
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-mish-mash-dictionary-of-marmite
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-mish-mash-dictionary-of-marmite.md
- published: 2009-10-01
- document_id: 116
> &creativeYou'd be surprised at how few Marmite related books there are, especially as the number of Marmite brands are growing enormously at the moment.
&creativeYou'd be surprised at how few Marmite related books there are, especially as the number of Marmite brands are growing enormously at the moment.
So, into the world comes a new Marmite book filled full of Marmite information, from serious to silly and everything in between, illustrated with fun cartoon sketches.
The Mish-mash Dictionary of Marmite cover the beginnings of Marmite as brewing industry yeast-waste, to its use in the finest restaurants and the grip that Marmite has on the palates and minds around the world.
The book is almost a social history, covering more than 100 years of the life of Marmite. The Mish-mash Dictionary covers Marmites place in medicine, its role in education, wars, its many unlikely uses (apart from eating it), and more.
I have to say that during the research for this book I was in contact with Maggie Hall, the author (who was New York correspondent for the Daily Mirror, then a freelancer in Washington DC), and she was absolutely lovely and genuinely interested in our favourite spread. However, due to a spell-checking error, I am in the book as Sean Waldron and not Seamus Waldron :-) I cannot repeat the reply from Maggie when I pointed this out!
This is what the book has to say about Maggie:
MAGGIE HALL has always fallen into the
'love Marmite' category. But until she spied
one of the first silver lids many years ago she
had no clue as to the huge hold the black goo
has on the nation. Her immediate thought
was: What's going on here? Now having put
this A-Z together she knows that it's a bizarre,
serious, zany, wholesome, off-the-wall, carryon.
As a retired Fleet Street reporter â who
started life in Cleckheaton, Yorkshire and now
divides her time between Washington DC,
Whitby in Yorkshire and travelling â none of
what she discovered on this voyage around
the world of Marmite should have surprised
her. But it did!
And this is what the book says about me:
Waldron: Sean Waldron (which of course should be Seamus Waldron :-)is, without a doubt,
the Marmite website-meister. He's the founder
and keeper of: www.ilovemarmite.com and
www.ihatemarmite.com. The story of how he
became involved is a good example of how, if
you see a chance, grab it.
In 2000 Sean (that would be Seamus) was
working in IT research and development in
the States. Occasionally he would be asked by
American friends and colleagues about
Marmite which was, and still is, perceived as a
peculiarly British product. He would refer
them to the Marmite website â under the
mistaken perception that there was one. He
checked and found little if anything. 'I found
one page,' he told me. 'And that was asking
whether fans of Marmite would like a website!'
In disbelief that there was nothing more
substantial on the internet he searched
further. 'I tried "I love Marmite" and found
nothing. I tried "I hate Marmite" and also
found nothing. Five minutes later I was the
proud owner of both domains.'
Sean (seamus;-), who is now back in Britain, chuckled at
what has happened since: 'I do like Marmite,
but would never have said I was an expert,
although I've turned into a bit of one now.'
You can say that again! He has been
interviewed about his site and his knowledge
of Marmite by media outlets all over the world
and many of those articles and broadcasts
have been syndicated. 'As a result I have
received messages from the most unlikely
places, where people have read about me, or
heard me interviewed,' he said.
The chances are that you might also hear
about Sean (Seamus) because of his non-Marmite life.
He is an amazingly talented jiver and jive
teacher. He was introduced to the revival of
the dance, which was the ballroom craze of
the 50s and 60s, while living in Boston,
Massachusetts.
He now owns three modern jive
dance schools in London and
Buckinghamshire. Surprisingly he's not come
up yet with a dance called The Marmiteâ¦
The Mish-mash Dictionary of Marmite: An Anecdotal A-Z of 'Tar-in-a-Jar'
can be purchased from Amazon.
================================================================================
## BFBS radio interviewed me about Marmite
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/bfbs-radio-marmite-interview-2009
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/bfbs-radio-marmite-interview-2009.md
- published: 2009-08-22
- document_id: 676
> In 2009, Lynn Duffus of British Forces Broadcasting Service interviewed me about Marmite: how the site started among baffled colleagues in Boston, what the stuff actually is, the Derbyshire "Marmite dumping" scandal that turned out to be fertiliser, and the bagel-and-whipped-Philadelphia trick I have never bettered.
Every so often, running a Marmite site gets me a phone call I would never have predicted. This was one of the better ones. Back in 2009, the British Forces Broadcasting Service got in touch and asked if I would talk about Marmite on the radio.
If you have not come across it, BFBS broadcasts to British forces and their families all over the world, wherever they happen to be posted, which is usually a fair way from the nearest jar. Lynn Duffus did the interview, and we covered a lot of ground.
She asked, sensibly, whether I worked for Marmite. I do not. I write software and websites, and, as I admitted on air, I also teach dancing, which threw the conversation off course for a moment. The honest reason the site exists is that I turned into a Marmite lover while working in Boston, surrounded by American colleagues who had no idea what the stuff was and nowhere to look it up. So I built somewhere.
Then the usual primer, for the uninitiated: Marmite is a yeast extract, the exact recipe a Coca-Cola-grade secret, made from a by-product of the brewing industry, which is why it comes from Burton-on-Trent, where the breweries are. It tastes meaty, and works a treat stirred into a chilli or a gravy, yet it is completely vegetarian. I mentioned, to a few raised eyebrows, that Marmite was even being put forward as suitable for Muslim diets.
The good bit, as ever, was the reader stories. Most of what people send me is far too embarrassing to read out on forces radio. The one I could repeat was the pregnant woman who craved Marmite on bananas, which I could vouch for, because my partner was pregnant at the time and we had three jars on the go. We also got onto Paddington, and the gloriously daft run of ads where the bear swaps his marmalade for Marmite, hell having presumably frozen over.
My favourite tangent was the Derbyshire "Marmite dumping" scandal that had been in the news. A village was up in arms about a horrible smell, and the culprit turned out to be a farmer spreading the Marmite by-product on his field. It is basically water and spent yeast, an excellent natural fertiliser that the local farms normally plough straight into the soil. This chap had simply left it sitting on top in the sun, hence the pong. Completely legal, so everyone could calm down.
As for how I eat it: the thing I have never bettered, picked up in the States, is a fresh bagel, toasted, buttered, a scrape of Marmite, and whipped Philadelphia over the top. And my advice to anyone who is sure Marmite is the food of Satan but has never actually tried it? Try it. Just spread it thinly. The last thing you want is a Marmite overdose.
================================================================================
## Limited Edition Cricket Marmite
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/cricket-balls-and-marmite-a-new-limited-edition-marmite-with-marston-s-pedigree-beer
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/cricket-balls-and-marmite-a-new-limited-edition-marmite-with-marston-s-pedigree-beer.md
- published: 2009-06-01
- document_id: 115
> Another Marmite special to be bowled over by. A new limited edition Marmite, using yeast from Marston's Pedigree, the official beer of English Cricket. Cricket, beer and Marmite are synonymous with.
Another Marmite special to be bowled over by. A new limited edition Marmite, using yeast from Marston's Pedigree, the official beer of English Cricket.
Cricket, beer and Marmite are synonymous with. As the Aussies come to Blighty to contest the Ashes on home turf, the makers of Marmite have teamed up with Marston's Pedigree, the official beer of England cricket, to create the cricket season's limited edition - a cricket ball jar made with the addition of Marston's Pedigree yeast.
The new limited edition of only 500,000 jars will be a Marmite made with yeast used in the brewing process to create Marston's Pedigree in Burton-upon-Trent. Providing a special twist to that most hated and loved of flavours, the unique recipe is sure to spur on the lads this summer and leave the Vegemite-munching Aussies stumped for a response.
Marston's Pedigree Marmite costs £3.49 (RRP), is alcohol free and will be available from most stores nationwide in time for the cricket madness. So, go and pledge your support to an England victory in the npower Ashes Series!
It's back to school time and Mums all across the country will apparently (according to Marmite) be thrown into 'sandwich anxiety' as they prepare to make the first of an estimated colossal 190 lunchbox sandwiches for their kids over the next school year.
Cheese and ham are currently the top toppings the UK's list of 'favourite fillings', though one suspects this means that kids will have very little to get excited about over their lunchboxes.
Â
So, quoting from the Marmite press release, this is what needs to be done!
Normally, just before valentines, you can pick up net bags of heart shaped Marmite portions. This year, things are different. How about this - Marmite with Champagne. Not only that, Selfridges are exclusively selling advance jars and 50 of them can be picked up with a silver engraved lid at a mere £145! True, true love for the one you love.
Last year year we had an interesting combination of Marmite with Guinness and I am still loving that combination, but Marmite and Champagne? I just don't know. I will reserve my judgement until I actually try it :-) Luckily for me, my girlfriend likes Marmite, so you can guess what will be on her toast the morning of valentines!
Gold labels on the special jars are heart-shaped and say 'I love you' and 'For my lovely Marmite lover'.
There will be a limited run of 600,000 jars of 250g pots, which are 0.3 per cent champagne. On sale in supermarkets on January 21 at £2.99 each. As mentioned before,
before then they will be sold at Selfridges for £3.99 - along with 50 special pots with engraved silver lids at £145 each.
Snack time is about to divide the nation into lovers and haters with the arrival of new Marmite Rice Cakes and Marmite Breadsticks. Bursting with Marmite flavour, they are the perfect antidote to the bland.
Die hard fans can now satisfy their craving with a Marmite fix at any time of the day. Not only do Marmite Rice Cakes and Marmite Breadsticks have that distinct loved ad hated Marmite-y flavour, but they are rich in B vitamins and contain no artificial colours, flavours or preservatives.
Office workers wanting an energy boost during the mid-afternoon slump need look no further than Marmite Breadsticks. Low in fat, Marmite Rice Cakes are a good option for slimmers bored with cardboard tasting snacks; healthy snacks can be tasty too.
Cheryl Calverley, Brand Manager, Marmite, says: "This is a really exciting extension to the Marmite brand. Marmite has always been loved as a breakfast spread, but now our consumers can also get their Marmite fix during the day."
Marmite Rice Cakes and Breadsticks will be available from July (RRSP £0.59 each) Stockists include Tesco and Morrisons.
It's often you get a press release that you can agree with. "Some Say it's Madness, Other's Say it's Genius. Legendary brands come together to launch GUINNESS MARMITE" That's what it says and in-between all my gushing, all I can think of is that "It's not easy being a dolphin"
So what is the deal with this Guinness Marmite? Quite simply, it is Guiness tasting Marmite. Regular Marmite is made from brewers yeast - a very particular one too. When the creator of Marmite was looking for the right yeast, he went all over Europe and eventually found what he was looking for in the Midlands, an area of brewing tradition. So, it's over 100 years later and a simple idea must have popped into the head of a very, very clever person.
The internal monologue must have gone something like this...
"Hmmm, this pint of Guinness is particularly refreshing today, what shall I have for lunch?"
Looking down at the pub menu he seel "Marmite with melted cheese on toast"
"That sounds good, I'll order that"; goes the thought process.
10 minutes later, whilst munching lunch and sipping Guinness.
"Wow, what a combination, Gunness AND Marmite, that really tastes good....... wait a minute....." - cogs begin to whirr - "what if we replace some of the brewers yeast we use for Marmite with the Guinness Yeast that is only used to make Guinness?
Light-bulb moment. Ground shakes. The world is never the same again.
In time for St. Patrick's day on the 17th March, 300,000 jars of Guinness Marmite have been made and already over a third have been sold. This means that you have to get to the shops RIGHT NOW!!!!
For our overseas readers (and there are many), here is the bad news. This double necter of the Gods is only available the UK. Requests from Israel, Australia and the US have been coming in for jars, but I'm afraid you guys will have to make do with eBay.
Here is the good news. Whilst it is only a "Special, limited product", if it is received well, just like Marmite Chrisps, we could well be seeing this jar of joy as a regular seasonal product.
Oh what utter joy.
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## MarmART at auction
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmart-at-auction
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmart-at-auction.md
- published: 2006-11-24
- document_id: 97
> This week the 'Marmart' from the MarmART exhibition went up for sale on eBay . and it seems people are hungry for a slice of their very own toast! A bidding war would be nice, as proceeds go to carity. The auction ends on Monday 27 November 2006. So what is on offer?
This week the 'Marmart' from the MarmART exhibition went up for sale on eBay. and it seems people are hungry for a slice of their very own toast! A bidding war would be nice, as proceeds go to carity. The auction ends on Monday 27 November 2006.
So what is on offer?
There are ten portraits of celebrities immortalised using Marmite on toast, being;
You may have noticed that Squeezy Marmite jars are sporting MarmART. Marmart is a space for you to express your inner, Marmite obsessed, Van Gogh. A place to show works of art created from toast and Marmite.
You can get in on the act, perhaps having your Marmart displayed in the gallery? All you have to do is take a photo of your piece of Marmart, upload it to the Marmat website and wait for your adoring public to rate your efforts! There will be e a celebrity curator dropping in every week to select their Pick of the Week, there will be workshops hosted by Linda Barker (from Changing Room fame) and the most loved pieces of work will have the prestigious honour of being displayed at The Air Gallery in London.
To see what you are up against, have a look at the UK Marmart Gallery or nip down to The Air Gallery in London from the 22nd-28th October 2006 to see the most loved (as voted by you on the website) pieces of artwork.
For once, don't think that Marmart is new, those cheeky Kiwis have been producing works or MarmART for quite a while now. Head on over to the Kiwi Marmite website to get some antipodean inspiration. GOOD LUCK!
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## More Marmite Love & Hate
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/more-marmite-love-hate-9
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/more-marmite-love-hate-9.md
- published: 2006-10-18
- document_id: 221
> Interesting things to do with Marmite 28 Jul 2001, Seamus Marmite is the most wonderful food stuff in the world and should be the staple diet of everyone that even remotely likes it.
Marmite is the most wonderful food stuff in the world and should be the staple diet of everyone that even remotely likes it. This may sound strange to a non-marmite eater, but marmite is more of a religion to those who eat it rather than just food!!!!
Sourced from : http://www.bath.ac.uk/~bs7tjg/marmite.html
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Barbara, run in the opposite direction!!!! It is horrible brown yucky salty
stuff!!!
Lynda
----- Original Message -----
Subject: [stillwater-homestead] Marmite ....deep question....?
> Tim and Kevin,
> Guess I missed it somewhere along the line....so I must ask!..What the
> heck IS Marmite????
> Barbara
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>>would you tell me what Marmite means?
>
>It's a sort of thick black spread. It's made from yeast extract and
>you either love it or hate it. Me? I love the stuff and buy the
>biggest jars I can (it's cheaper in the long run). My current vice is
>a marmite and peanut butter sandwiches.
Nonononono! It's the spawn of the devil, vile disgusting stuff!
>The aussies have an equivalent product called vegemite.
>
>(My mate, your mate, his mate, her mate, my mate.... Marmite)
I hate Marmite!
>I feel sure that someone, somewhere will have put together a Marmite
>shrine on the WWW.
I feel a desecration coming on!
I'm afraid Marmite is one of those things you either love or hate.
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Marmite. Mmmm. Ever since I was a baby I've enjoyed the taste of this black nectar. My favourite way to enjoy this marvel of yeast extraction is with sliced tomato betwixt two slices of buttery toast. It is also one of
the best hangover cures I know.
I used to be the only person out of 20 people who had Marmite when the breakfast order was placed. I've managed to convert 4 people so far.
Eat Marmite.
Resistance is futile.
Andy Harkin
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It's definitely a 'love it or hate it' thing, something which the recent TV ads for Marmite have been using. The ad starts with a guy and a beautiful blonde model-type entering a flat. She tells him to make himself comfortable on the sofa and that she won't be a minute.
On her return from the kitchen, she settles onto the sofa next to him and they starts snogging, only for him to pull away from her, his face contorted in disgust, and start doing that tongue-out spitting thing.
The camera then cuts to the kitchen where there's a jar of Marmite and a slogan appears saying something like 'Love It or Hate It'.
Seems a bizarre way of advertising your product to me, but there you go.
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I dunno whether any of you lot are as serious about your marmite as I am, well let me tell you I looooovvvvveeeeee the stuff i get cravings for it, I just have to have it. Well anyway this page has stemmed from the fact the Marmite don't really have a web site so I thought I'd help 'em out a bit and do my own little shrine to marmite.
But then I thought I can't really be bothered if you like it you know about it and if you don't like it then well you don't wanna know really, do you? (have we been here b4?)
For Neal Abbotts website : http://website.lineone.net/~whatmakesmetick/f%20marmite.html
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16 year old pupil at one of England's leading fee paying schools, returned from school for his Christmas holidays in what appeared to be some measure of discomfort. When quizzed by his mother, he said that he had received a "low blow" during a game of rugby and was sure that the passage of time would heal all ills.
Unfortunately this proved not to be the case and on his third day home he was unable to walk. His mother insisted he visit the family doctor, a demand to which the incapacitated Stephen succumbed.
On arrival at the surgery Stephen carefully removed his underwear to reveal that his scrotum was swollen to nearly four times it's natural size and was bruised almost entirely black with a number of small puncture wounds to the right hand side showing clear signs of established infection. The doctor, realising that he was not personally equipped as a GP to properly treat such a "sporting" injury immediately called an ambulance to take his patient to hospital.
Stephen was rushed (!) into hospital where he immediately underwent surgery to properly investigate and remedy the injury. The infection was advanced and Stephen ended up having his right testicle removed as the infection appeared to have spread into the gland. To his surprise, the surgeon removed what were later identified as "a large number of brown glass splinters" from the boy's scrotum and the highly infected (and now ex) testicle.
It was the surgeon's opinion that these had been "introduced" to Stephen's nether regions at the time of the injury. Realising that this was not as it had first appeared, Stephen's mother asked what kind of assault he had been a victim of with the intention of taking serious issue with his not inexpensive school as to how such an accident could occur.
In an effort not to make a fuss Stephen admitted to the following episode. At an unofficial end of term Christmas party after lights out, Stephen had drunkenly accepted a bet with the boys in his dorm that he could not fit both his testicles into a medium sized Marmite jar. With drunken confidence, and in order to win a large sum of money from his fellow students, Stephen did indeed manage to perform the trick. However, such is the shape of a Marmite pot that Stephen was not able to remove the pot after winning his money. Much to the enjoyment of the rest of the party-goers he crept off to the bathroom to try to remove the pot.
Having been unable to remove the pot for two days and in extreme discomfort, Stephen took drastic measures and went to the empty CDT (Craft, Design & Technology) room and with a hammer smashed the pot. Yes that's right, he smashed a glass pot from around his testicles with a hammer! Unsurprisingly, this was not a clinical operation and also where the damage was really done.
As they say... Marmite, you either love it or you hate it
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Lyrics from : Housewife
That's it, I've had enough of this Marmite love, Bringing you breakfast in bed when its already lunch, That's it, no more will I have to pour your coffee In to you favourite morning mug, cause I accidentally smashed it on the wall, very hard. What a shame you look so marred by the temperamental state of mind I'm showing That's it I've had enough of this marmite. Goodbye, I'm going.
That's it, I've got it planned I've got to make a stand And don't you try and stop me leaving cause its all thought out, That's it, no more will you bore me to tears with you relentless on my ears about the washing up, cause I couldn't give a flying cup of tea about the washing up its me or the plates and don't say that you had know way of knowing. That's it I've had enough of this marmite love, Goodbye - I'm going.
I've already packed my suitcase, tied it up with that new bootlace from really expensive trainers you bought with my from my account. I've made myself a breakfast brunch with the left overs from your office lunch, And no there's no way to sort this out. That's it, I've had enough of this marmite love, I'm not your toasted soldier - And now that I have told you Goodbye my dear I'm gone.
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For lunch, we had a picnic out of the boot (trunk for my fellow yanks). Damn, wot a lunch!! This was my first time to sample Marmite (a picnic with Marmite sandwiches had been a part of the Twycross Zoo trip plan from day one as a result of an off-topic list thread that we took off list).
So there I am, Marmite sandwich in hand, being watched like a hawk for any reaction (not just Helen mind you, the whole damn lot of 'em). Felt like an exhibit myself. Well, time to bite it so to speak.
Chomp!
Chew!
Hey this stuff tastes great!
That clearly put me in the Marmite! Love it! camp. I had Marmite & cheese, Marmite & peanut butter, and Marmite and ham. All delish. For those of you who haven't heard of the stuff. Check out these web sites. The last is to give the folks down under a bit of a plug for their "ugly sister" Vegemite.
To see the full travelogue, click here.
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LOOKING FOR THE MARMITE COMMERCIAL BASED ON THE BLOB?, well look no further than here
Marmite has great commercials these days, but if you are not in the UK, how can you see them?
Well, I'm too much of a wimp to host this marmite commercial on my website (litigation being what it is these days), but click here and look for the file Marmite.asf. download, unzip and enjoy with Micro$loth Media Player.
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I'm walking through the streets of Utrecht in Holland, when I happend across an interesting little shop window that has lots of little pyraminds and towers made of canned soups, Heinz Spagetti and..MARMITE! Good grief, I had to go in.....
This wonderful shop is a specialist in foreign food and delicatessen for the ex-pat community in Utrecht. There are foods from all over the world, but most importantly, dear reader, they specialise in British food.
If you want to buy Marmite in Holland, specifically the Utrecht, then this is the address you want:
Jac. Bostelaar Delicatessen v.o.f
Ripping open the jiffy bag I found the new look Marmite. GOOD NEWS!!!! It looks like a Marmite Jar, only plastic. Okay, there is one thing I should mention, it is a Marmite jar
sitting on its head. What a good idea. Not only that, there is a bit of humour about the product as instead of being branded with the Marmite logo, it has "Squeeze Me" instead.
Due to it's design, the Marmite will always be in a position to be squeezed out. We all know that Marmite isn't the most viscous of substances, and this was my real worry. Have no fear,
good design and instuctions on the back which tell you not to keep squeezy Marmite in the fridge will ensure that "Squeeze Me Marmite" will work as advertised.
Turning the "jar" around, you get the Marmite logo and instructions! As mentioned previously, the first is; "The fridge makes me chilly, NOT squeezy." The second is;
"This way up, [with an arrow pointing up] or I get dizzy, not squeezy." Bold words are as they appear on the jar.
Oh yes, the "Squeeze Me Marmite" I got is 200g.
Taste test
Tastes just the same.
Second thoughts
It did occur to me that the "Squeeze Me Marmite" might contain different ingredients. You know what, it does. Between the Spice Extracts and the Riboflavin is "(contains celery)". Now, I checked two new jars of
Marmite and neither one had celery listed. It could be that celery has been added or that celery has been there all the time and is now going to be listed. Make of it what you will. [Update: Celery is definately a normal ingredient for Marmite]
There is also a shelf life of about a year which seems to be shorter that glass jar based Marmite. I also wonder how squeezy it will be in a years time. Another
thought is that when you are about to run out of Marmite, usually you start scraping it out with the point of a knife to get every last bit. How do you do this with a squeezy jar? Two seconds of
thought later brings me to the lightbulb moment! Unscrew the top. Duh!
Think of the possibilities
You can put it on toast, but thats not a reason to embrace "Squeeze Me Marmite". Let me enlighten you.
First off, you can take it travelling. It's less wieght than a jar and won't crack or smash. Trust me,
this is important because opening your luggage to find Marmite smeared over your clouths instead of your breakfast is not the greatest thing in the world.
Being squeezeable, you can now eat Marmite one handed. Flip open the lid, tilt your head back and squeeze. Marmite without the middle man.
Considering that one handed comsumption is now possible, remember 9 1/2 weeks? Replace fruit with "Squeeze Me Marmite" and you'll be licking it off your partner (see the exclusive poll on this website) in wild abandon.
It also dawned on me that the new logo is ideal for tattoos ;-)
Not all that glitters is gold. In this case, it was solid silver, let me explain. Whilst walking down Neal St., one of my favorite streets in London, I passed Perpetuity, a jewelers of high regard.
What was it that cought my eye? Two jars of Marmite in the shop window with solid silver tops. Can you believe it? I've heard about these before, but never actually seen one, let alone be able to buy one.
As it happens, Perpetuity has an exclusive on these silver tops and sell for a very resonable £88 for the large, £57 for medium and £47 for small jars.
If they tickle your fancy, then please e-mail them at perpetuityuk@aol.com or call on +44(0)20 7240 7666. If you are in the area, then the address is 69 Neal Street, Covent Garden, London, WC2H.
Don't forget to mention where you heard about them though!
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## On the origins of the word Marmite
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/on-the-origins-of-the-word-marmite
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/on-the-origins-of-the-word-marmite.md
- published: 2005-03-18
- document_id: 88
> From www.nakedtranslations.com [site appears to be dead] We were looking at the menu of a very nice London restaurant on Saturday when one of my co-lunchers exclaimed: "Monkfish tail "en marmite"??! Whaaaat? Fish in Marmite?" Tut tut. Those Engleesh. I reassured my friend: "Of course not.
From www.nakedtranslations.com [site appears to be dead]
We were looking at the menu of a very nice London restaurant on Saturday when one of my co-lunchers exclaimed:
"Monkfish tail "en marmite"??! Whaaaat? Fish in Marmite?"
Tut tut. Those Engleesh.
I reassured my friend: "Of course not. Marmite is French for "cooking pot". So I expect they serve it in a nice earthenware cooking pot."
Stunned silence.
"Marmite is a French word?" said Kate in an is-nothing-sacred-anymore quivering voice.
We aren't sure if it's the children terrified of the advert or the parents terrified their children might eat Marmite. Four parents said their children refused to watch television after seeing it, probably because they wanted to eat Marmite instead, and two said their children had nightmares as well. Wouldn't you if you were banned from eating your favorite food?
I make light of all this because the advertisement in question is a spoof of the famous 1958 film "The Blob". Remember the "Indescribable... Indestructible! Nothing Can Stop It!" tag line? Okay, I had to look it up, I thought it was "Run! Don't walk!" In the 1988 incarnation, the tag line had been beefed up a bit and made more relevant to Marmite haters: "Terror has no shape."
Initially, the ASA gave clearance for the advert to be shown on British television, accepting that it was "very mild horror that was clearly over the top and comical" and that; "The blob was not shown attacking people, no one was hurt by it and its pursuit of the crowd was in a cartoon style that would be familiar to very young viewers."
After all, how many times have children seen Tom be whacked over the head with a frying pan by a very unassuming Jerry Mouse?
More seriously though, the parents said the adverts had caused "distress" among their children, who were aged two and three, after being broadcast around programmes aimed at youngsters.
The advertising watchdog said: "All the viewers said that their children had been terrified by the advertisements; four said their children refused to watch television after seeing it and a further two said their children had nightmares as a result."
Okay, so only show the commercial after the 9pm watershed?
Less seriously, the first time I saw the advert I had no idea it was for Marmite and nearly split my sides when the terrified shoppers turned and jumped head-first into the blob of Marmite when they realised what was chasing them.
I bet you want to see what all the fuss was about don't you?
The first commercial:
People are running away from a giant brown blob of Marmite as it emerges from a supermarket and then heads down the street. As a couple hides from the blob the woman suddenly runs out and jumps into the Marmite, followed by many others who realised the Mamitey goodness of the Blob.
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The new Marmite Biscuit, inspired by Marmite Cookbook author Paul Hartley and made by Fudges Bakery of Dorset, is set to become the talking point over dinner tables across the country.
With the unmistakable taste of Marmite, these crunchy wholemeal biscuits can be eaten with a variety of both sweet and savoury toppings, dunked into creamy dips, served with a cheese board or just enjoyed on their own. Wherever they appear, the glossy black box of Marmite biscuits will be as recognisable as the much loved and trusted Marmite jar.
The Marmite Biscuit was created by Paul Hartley, founder of breakfastandbrunch.com and author of the best-selling Marmite Cookbook, in association with Unilever Bestfoods UK and produced by the award-winning Fudges Bakery. The distinctive 'love it or hate it' savoury taste is a good source of B vitamins and has a loyal fan base in the UK.
Paul Hartley commented: "People who buy Marmite are completely passionate about the brand and we think these new Marmite biscuits will go down a storm. Already well-known as a breakfast and snacking brand, this will probably be the first time that Marmite appears on the dinner table. Market research has shown that even some Marmite 'haters' confessed they love this biscuit!"
Today Marmite is one of the UK's most well established brands, worth in excess of £25 million.
The new Marmite Biscuits come in a 150g box, RRP £1.99, and will be available in Waitrose stores and most independent retailers nationwide from 27 September 2004.
For samples or further press information please email rhian@positivepr.co.uk or telephone Positive PR on 01935 389497
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## Prisoners turn to Marmite moonshine
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/prisoners-turn-to-marmite-moonshine
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/prisoners-turn-to-marmite-moonshine.md
- published: 2005-01-07
- document_id: 81
> You search the web time and again, but still you miss the most amazing things. In 2002, the centennial year of Marmite, it was discovered that inmates at a jail near Wolverhampton in England, were brewing their own "hooch" using Marmite.
You search the web time and again, but still you miss the most amazing things. In 2002, the centennial year of Marmite, it was discovered that inmates at a jail near Wolverhampton in England, were brewing their own "hooch" using Marmite.
Governor Mike Pascoe was philosophical in saying that her preferred illicit brewing if it meant fewer drugs getting into the prison. Of course, it begs the question, "How was the Marmite [probably in large quantities] smuggles into the jail?â
Mr. Pascoe said fruit and vegetables stolen from the prison kitchen were used in the brewing process, but inmates used Marmite because its yeast content aids the fermenting process.
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## The Missouri Marmite Museum
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-missouri-marmite-museum
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-missouri-marmite-museum.md
- published: 2004-05-01
- document_id: 80
> February 2003 marked Marmites 101st birthday and my return date from the USA to England. My journey from Boston to London was via St Louis and Chicago. Chicago was be a Marmite supply drop for my cousins, but St Louis marked my first return to the city I was born in.
February 2003 marked Marmites 101st birthday and my return date from the USA to England. My journey from Boston to London was via St Louis and Chicago. Chicago was be a Marmite supply drop for my cousins, but St Louis marked my first return to the city I was born in. Incidentally, it is the current home of the Missouri Marmite Museum. Not one to waste an opportunity, I contacted Doug Schneider, the curator and part time "Doctor Marmite", to arrange a visit to his collection of Marmite memorabilia.
Doug picks me up from my hotel and gives an architectural tour of downtown St Louis that has some great buildings and history, but alas has passed its heyday. However, unlike anywhere else in North America, it does have a museum of Marmiteâ¦â¦.
Okay, so museum may be laying it on a bit thick, but Doug has made a fine collection of Marmite memorabilia over the years. Originally called the Minnesota Marmite Museum and opened to an audience of American un-believers who peppered "Doctor Marmite" ( read "Doug in a lab coat" ), the collection moved to St Louis six years ago and has grown steadily ever since.
So, how does Doug get his Marmite stuff?
"eBay and begging friends who visit England"
I have to say that when I checked eBay for Marmite, there was about a page of interesting and reasonably priced stuff.
"I set myself an upper limit for each item"; Doug tells me; "and I make sure that I donât go over it. Iâve missed out on some good stuff that way, but some weeks I feel more flush than others"
As can be seen by the emerging collection. Each piece comes out of storage and placed upon the dining table. We "oooh" and "aaaagh" as each piece catches the eye. I am particularly taken by a jar from Hong Kong that has its label in Chinese and another that states this Marmite was made, not in Burton-Upon-Trent, but in Brentford. Believe me, this is a revelation as I thought all Marmite in the UK was made in the Midlands where the beer is brewed, not in Essex where they wouldnât know a decent pint if it hit them in the eyeballs.
A collection of very old pots emerges, each of different size. Set besides each other, they look like an expanded Russian doll.
"These are tough to get hold of", I am told. Doug managed to buy some that were dug up by an Ebayer from a rubbish tip in Wales. Only the smallest jar is missing from the set and this was an example of Doug refusing to pay over the odds on eBay.
"Another one will come up", he muses.
I canât begin to tell you how impressed I am with the museum. I had no idea there was such variety in just the Marmite jars, let alone the other items in the collection. There is a classic 1930s metal sign, a wonderful tin for holding Marmite cubes and a stuffed Zippy doll. Zippy was acquired when buying the set of three Zippy Marmite Jars from a woman in England over eBay. She offered to send away for the Zippy doll on Dougâs behalf as Marmite would only deliver to the UK. Instead of the weeks of waiting expected, the jars and Zippy arrived in short order. The women had sent along her own Zippy and had sent off for the new one to replace the one sent to Doug.
Iâm telling you, as collectors go, these Marmite heads are a really nice bunch. I find that Iâm starting to get the urge to do some collecting myself, though Iâve promised Doug that I will look out for some particular stuff for him, thus creating a potential conflict of interest.
We decide that some photographs need to be taken in honour of my visit, which is the first by a member of the public who actually knows what Marmite is. Whilst Doug fetches his camera, I flick through a Japanese magazine that did a six page spread (no pun intended) about the loves and hates of Marmite. Sure enough, in amongst it all, is a picture of Doug surrounded by his collection. He couldnât get his photo and collection into a local newspaper, but a Japanese national was a piece of cake!
We pose for a few photos and keep chatting. I canât believe how the Marmite jars have changed over the years. I point out a difference in the jars not previously noted by Doug. âInterestingly, everybody who see the collection notice something I have missed. They seem to go away with an enthusiasm for Marmite, if not a taste for it.â
Well, other people may not like it, but Sidney, Dougâs dog, loves it. I can scarcely believe my eyes when she obediently waits for Doug to scoop some Marmite from the jars and on command, lets Sidney lick the Marmite from his fingers. Never, have I come across and animal that loves Marmite so much.
Its time to go and Doug drives me back downtown. A fun and informative time was had by all and I encourage you to get in contact with Doug if you every find yourself in St Louis, though make sure you bring a small gift, preferably a roundish jar, full of black stuff with a yellow lid.
================================================================================
## For bite free travelling, eat Marmite
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/for-bite-free-travelling-eat-marmite
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/for-bite-free-travelling-eat-marmite.md
- published: 2004-05-01
- document_id: 79
> Mosquitoes hate Marmite. Well, there's a surprise. If you want to stay bite free on your next rip abroad, health experts are now telling us that Marmite holds the key.
Mosquitoes hate Marmite. Well, there's a surprise. If you want to stay bite free on your next rip abroad, health experts are now telling us that Marmite holds the key.
Dr Martin Schweiger, a public health consultant in Communicable Disease Control at the Health Protection Agency regional laboratory in Leeds, revealed his secret weapon for the launch of a new advice leaflet for travelers. He told the Leeds Co-op Travel to make sure you pack a jar of Marmite.
"I can't give you an academic, scientific reason - but people who eat Marmite report getting fewer mosquito bites," says Dr Schweiger.
"It's nothing to do with spreading it on the skin - but the effect of eating it could be linked to the Vitamin B1 Thiamin that it contains. This theory is supported by the rise of malaria in countries where staple rice has been de-husked and the thiamine-rich outer coating is discarded.
Marmite aficionados have long known this jewel of a tip and have been bite free for years, but many suspecting it is the Vitamin B12 that wards off the mossies.
A Marmite spokesman said: "You either love it or hate it and mosquitoes are clearly not in the former category."
Seamus Waldron, from I Love/Hate Marmite.com suggests that "Eating Marmite on your travels repels mosquitoes, but attracts ex-pats, so make sure you pack a large jar."
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## Coffee Break Interview with George Melly
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/coffee-break-interview-with-george-melly
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/coffee-break-interview-with-george-melly.md
- published: 2002-06-14
- document_id: 77
> The New Humanist magazine claims to be " The only webpage with the celebrity Marmite question... ". Well, who am I to argue? Check them out each quarter to see who is interviewed and the answer to the all important question; " Marmite - love it or hate it?
The New Humanist magazine claims to be "The only webpage with the celebrity Marmite question...". Well, who am I to argue? Check them out each quarter to see who is interviewed and the answer to the all important question; "Marmite - love it or hate it?"
For an taster, read this interview with George Melly :
http://www.rationalist.org.uk/newhumanist/issue02spring/coffeebreakwithmelly.shtml
================================================================================ ## Marmite, the essence of Britishness - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-the-essence-of-britishness - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-the-essence-of-britishness.md - published: 2002-02-27 - document_id: 76 > The savoury spread Marmite was the subject of a Commons motion. Former sports minister Tony Banks said that 2002 marked the 100th anniversary of its creation. The savoury spread Marmite was the subject of a Commons motion. Former sports minister Tony Banks said that 2002 marked the 100th anniversary of its creation. His motion said: "We take intense satisfaction from the essential Britishness of the product and its lack of appeal for the majority of the world's population." Also, thanks to a Reuters [here], this site is spreading the word of Marmite to literally thousands of new site visitors as the article is published around the world. To quote from the article; "The Marmite debate may not be given parliamentary time, but the debate rages on the Internet on websites such as www.ihatemarmite.com" - Wayhay!! ================================================================================ ## Press & Contact information - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/press-contact-information - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/press-contact-information.md - published: 2002-01-03 - document_id: 75 > There has alway been fantastic press interest in the I Love/ I Hate Marmite websites. I am happy to be available for press, radio and television, about the appeal of anything Marmite. Please feel free to contact me at this email address [seamus waldron@apj.co.uk] .
There has alway been fantastic press interest in the I Love/ I Hate Marmite websites. I am happy to be available for press, radio and television, about the appeal of anything Marmite.
Please feel free to contact me at this email address [seamus_waldron@apj.co.uk]. LOOKING FOR THE MARMITE COMMERCIAL BASED ON THE BLOB?, well look no further than here
Marmite has great commercials these days, but if you are not in the UK, how can you see them?
Well, I'm too much of a wimp to host this marmite commercial on my website (litigation being what it is these days), but click here and look for the file Marmite.asf. download, unzip and enjoy with Micro$loth Media Player.
================================================================================
## A Yanks view of England
- canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/a-yanks-view-of-england
- markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/a-yanks-view-of-england.md
- published: 2001-07-30
- document_id: 72
> For lunch, we had a picnic out of the boot (trunk for my fellow yanks). Damn, wot a lunch!! This was my first time to sample Marmite (a picnic with Marmite sandwiches had been a part of the Twycross Zoo trip plan from day one as a result of an off-topic list thread that we took off list).
For lunch, we had a picnic out of the boot (trunk for my fellow yanks). Damn, wot a lunch!! This was my first time to sample Marmite (a picnic with Marmite sandwiches had been a part of the Twycross Zoo trip plan from day one as a result of an off-topic list thread that we took off list).
So there I am, Marmite sandwich in hand, being watched like a hawk for any reaction (not just Helen mind you, the whole damn lot of 'em). Felt like an exhibit myself. Well, time to bite it so to speak.
Chomp!
Chew!
Hey this stuff tastes great!
That clearly put me in the Marmite! Love it! camp. I had Marmite & cheese, Marmite & peanut butter, and Marmite and ham. All delish. For those of you who haven't heard of the stuff. Check out these web sites. The last is to give the folks down under a bit of a plug for their "ugly sister" Vegemite.
To see the full travelogue, click here.
================================================================================ ## Marmite Love poetry - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-love-poetry - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/marmite-love-poetry.md - published: 2001-07-30 - document_id: 71 > Lyrics from : Housewife That's it, I've had enough of this Marmite love, Bringing you breakfast in bed when its already lunch, That's it, no more will I have to pour your coffee In to you favourite morning mug, cause I accidentally smashed it on the wall, very hard. Lyrics from : Housewife That's it, I've had enough of this Marmite love, Bringing you breakfast in bed when its already lunch, That's it, no more will I have to pour your coffee In to you favourite morning mug, cause I accidentally smashed it on the wall, very hard. What a shame you look so marred by the temperamental state of mind I'm showing That's it I've had enough of this marmite. Goodbye, I'm going. That's it, I've got it planned I've got to make a stand And don't you try and stop me leaving cause its all thought out, That's it, no more will you bore me to tears with you relentless on my ears about the washing up, cause I couldn't give a flying cup of tea about the washing up its me or the plates and don't say that you had know way of knowing. That's it I've had enough of this marmite love, Goodbye - I'm going. I've already packed my suitcase, tied it up with that new bootlace from really expensive trainers you bought with my from my account. I've made myself a breakfast brunch with the left overs from your office lunch, And no there's no way to sort this out. That's it, I've had enough of this marmite love, I'm not your toasted soldier - And now that I have told you Goodbye my dear I'm gone. ================================================================================ ## Painfully Funny Marmite Myth - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/urban-myth-or-not-whatever-painfully-funny - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/urban-myth-or-not-whatever-painfully-funny.md - published: 2001-07-30 - document_id: 70 > 16 year old pupil at one of England's leading fee paying schools, returned from school for his Christmas holidays in what appeared to be some measure of discomfort.16 year old pupil at one of England's leading fee paying schools, returned from school for his Christmas holidays in what appeared to be some measure of discomfort. When quizzed by his mother, he said that he had received a "low blow" during a game of rugby and was sure that the passage of time would heal all ills.
Unfortunately this proved not to be the case and on his third day home he was unable to walk. His mother insisted he visit the family doctor, a demand to which the incapacitated Stephen succumbed.
On arrival at the surgery Stephen carefully removed his underwear to reveal that his scrotum was swollen to nearly four times it's natural size and was bruised almost entirely black with a number of small puncture wounds to the right hand side showing clear signs of established infection. The doctor, realising that he was not personally equipped as a GP to properly treat such a "sporting" injury immediately called an ambulance to take his patient to hospital.
Stephen was rushed (!) into hospital where he immediately underwent surgery to properly investigate and remedy the injury. The infection was advanced and Stephen ended up having his right testicle removed as the infection appeared to have spread into the gland. To his surprise, the surgeon removed what were later identified as "a large number of brown glass splinters" from the boy's scrotum and the highly infected (and now ex) testicle.
It was the surgeon's opinion that these had been "introduced" to Stephen's nether regions at the time of the injury. Realising that this was not as it had first appeared, Stephen's mother asked what kind of assault he had been a victim of with the intention of taking serious issue with his not inexpensive school as to how such an accident could occur.
In an effort not to make a fuss Stephen admitted to the following episode. At an unofficial end of term Christmas party after lights out, Stephen had drunkenly accepted a bet with the boys in his dorm that he could not fit both his testicles into a medium sized Marmite jar. With drunken confidence, and in order to win a large sum of money from his fellow students, Stephen did indeed manage to perform the trick. However, such is the shape of a Marmite pot that Stephen was not able to remove the pot after winning his money. Much to the enjoyment of the rest of the party-goers he crept off to the bathroom to try to remove the pot.
Having been unable to remove the pot for two days and in extreme discomfort, Stephen took drastic measures and went to the empty CDT (Craft, Design & Technology) room and with a hammer smashed the pot. Yes that's right, he smashed a glass pot from around his testicles with a hammer! Unsurprisingly, this was not a clinical operation and also where the damage was really done.
As they say... Marmite, you either love it or you hate it
================================================================================ ## I looooovvvvveeeeee Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/i-looooovvvvveeeeee-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/i-looooovvvvveeeeee-marmite.md - published: 2001-07-30 - document_id: 69 > I dunno whether any of you lot are as serious about your marmite as I am, well let me tell you I looooovvvvveeeeee the stuff i get cravings for it, I just have to have it. Well anyway this page has stemmed from the fact the Marmite don't really have a web site so I thought I'd help 'em out a bit and do my own little sI dunno whether any of you lot are as serious about your marmite as I am, well let me tell you I looooovvvvveeeeee the stuff i get cravings for it, I just have to have it. Well anyway this page has stemmed from the fact the Marmite don't really have a web site so I thought I'd help 'em out a bit and do my own little shrine to marmite.
But then I thought I can't really be bothered if you like it you know about it and if you don't like it then well you don't wanna know really, do you? (have we been here b4?)
For Neal Abbotts website : http://website.lineone.net/~whatmakesmetick/f%20marmite.html
================================================================================ ## My favorite love/hate Marmite advert - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/my-favorite-love-hate-marmite-advert - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/my-favorite-love-hate-marmite-advert.md - published: 2001-07-28 - document_id: 68 > It's definitely a 'love it or hate it' thing, something which the recent TV ads for Marmite have been using. The ad starts with a guy and a beautiful blonde model-type entering a flat. She tells him to make himself comfortable on the sofa and that she won't be a minute.It's definitely a 'love it or hate it' thing, something which the recent TV ads for Marmite have been using. The ad starts with a guy and a beautiful blonde model-type entering a flat. She tells him to make himself comfortable on the sofa and that she won't be a minute.
On her return from the kitchen, she settles onto the sofa next to him and they starts snogging, only for him to pull away from her, his face contorted in disgust, and start doing that tongue-out spitting thing.
The camera then cuts to the kitchen where there's a jar of Marmite and a slogan appears saying something like 'Love It or Hate It'.
Seems a bizarre way of advertising your product to me, but there you go.
Marmite. Mmmm. Ever since I was a baby I've enjoyed the taste of this black nectar. My favourite way to enjoy this marvel of yeast extraction is with sliced tomato betwixt two slices of buttery toast. It is also one of
the best hangover cures I know.
I used to be the only person out of 20 people who had Marmite when the breakfast order was placed. I've managed to convert 4 people so far.
Eat Marmite.
Resistance is futile.
Andy Harkin
================================================================================ ## The devils spawn - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-devils-spawn - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/the-devils-spawn.md - published: 2001-07-28 - document_id: 66 > would you tell me what Marmite means? It's a sort of thick black spread. It's made from yeast extract and you either love it or hate it. Me? I love the stuff and buy the biggest jars I can (it's cheaper in the long run). My current vice is a marmite and peanut butter sandwiches. Nonononono! >>would you tell me what Marmite means?Barbara, run in the opposite direction!!!! It is horrible brown yucky salty
stuff!!!
Lynda
----- Original Message -----
Subject: [stillwater-homestead] Marmite ....deep question....?
> Tim and Kevin,
> Guess I missed it somewhere along the line....so I must ask!..What the
> heck IS Marmite????
> Barbara
Sourced from : http://www.bath.ac.uk/~bs7tjg/marmite.html
================================================================================ ## An Ode to Marmite - canonical: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/an-ode-to-marmite - markdown: https://ilovemarmite.co.uk/articles/an-ode-to-marmite.md - published: 2001-07-28 - document_id: 63 > The Joy of Marmite I spread my Marmite sparingly, upon my buttered toast Of all the things to put on bread, it's what I like the most. The Joy of Marmite
