Gluttony and Vegemite as a Right of Passage
There are a lot of things about Australia that fit nicely into the bizarre category of life. The platypus and kangaroo are two of them. The Tasmanian Devil and, for that matter, Tasmanians to name two more.
Vegemite is another.
Vegemite is iconic, a salty spread for toast that is loved across the country. You can buy Vegemite in Canada though I have never had the desire to do so. It had never even crossed my mind to try it until I went to Australia. After all, how can you have a true Aussie experience without having a vegemite sandwich?
I suspect you could have one very easily.
My first (and last) experience with vegemite was very unpleasant. It was while we were still staying with my Aussie Mom and I decided to give it a go while helping myself to breakfast. Out popped the toast and on went the vegemite. Likely my biggest mistake (aside from trying it at all) was slathering it on my toast in the same way I do peanut butter: double thick and right to the corners.
It tasted like swallowing a clingy mouthful of sea water, only less pleasant.
I managed to choke down half the toast, trying to be a polite guest and not waste the several tablespoons of vegemite I had taken, but even politeness couldn’t force me to eat the rest of it.
It was vile.
And unlike my Newfie Right of Passage (A shot of Screech and a Kiss on a Puffins Arse) I didn’t feel at all like a local.
I just felt like an idiot with a mouthful of salt.