Australia: Solving world obesity, one slice of Vegemite at a time

Arriving to Australia as an international student, I had been given much advice on a variety of “Aussieisms” and pieces of culture to keep in mind. However, I knew I had to immerse myself in Aussie culture in order to truly understand it. I wrote a list before I left. Mostly uncontroversial topics and vocabulary: reckon, TimTams, and thongs. Vegemite, however, was much debated about; either loved or hated. With my 30 kilo bag in-hand and high expectations, I departed Oslo for Melbourne.

Aussies, I learned quickly upon arrival, are a proud people. My mate Mick was no exception. He doesn’t know this, but the first time I had Vegemite I was actually in a Melbourne hospital. Shortly after I landed, I fell ill and needed treatments. With heavy doses of medicine running through my veins, I became delusional. Obviously, that is the perfect time to try Vegemite. I had no coaching, no instructions, or any idea what to expect. I sat alone in the dining area, watching Channel Nine news, learning about something call “footy” that wasn’t related to football at all.

I opened the yellow-labelled, single –serve packet. Its aroma was pungent. It looked like something made from prunes or figs. Must be sweet, I thought.

I slapped a good glob of it onto some hospital-grade toast, which was dry and flaking away at the edges. I took a big ol’ bite into it.

Vegemite is not something that you just take a big ol’ bite into.

I instinctively spat it out. What just happened? What was this made of again? I must give it another go, I thought, and put a thinner layer of it onto the rest of the toast. I chewed slowly and managed to swallow. Hoping that the acquired taste came eventually, I slowly put the remaining toast down on the napkin, and stared at it. I swallowed a gulp of milk and came back to the piece of toast. I took another bite. Nope, still not convinced. I was however quite proud, thinking, I did it; I’ve tried it. Piece of Aussie Culture #1: check. The plan was to never talk of the nightmare, ever.

A few weeks later, Mick hosted a group of European friends and I for a surfing weekend. On Sunday morning, he had prepared an amazing Aussie “brekky.” With a big, goofy grin on his face, he pulled a tube of Vegemite out of a drawer. Oh my god, I thought, they put it in tubes! Placing it on the counter as if he were touching gold, he read the packaging proudly: “Rich in B vitamins!” Looking straight at me and said, “You just gotta try it!” I nodded in compliance. “Uh huh, yeah yeah, I will,” I said, as nightmares from the hospital flashed before my eyes. What was I going to do? Admit it? Claim gluten allergies? I looked into his eyes. They glistened with such pride, hope and anticipation. I didn’t want to disappoint my new Aussie friend, so I put my best theatrical talents to work and obliged.

My palms were sweaty as he instructed with great enthusiasm. “OK first, put some butter on the toast.” I did as instructed. He continued, “The trick is to spread it on real thin. Juuust enough to tease your taste buds. That’s the key. It doesn’t get better than this. Can’t get more Aussie either.”

Deep breath in. I looked at the piece of toast. It was spread so thin I could barely see it. It was almost as if he merely let the knife hover over the toast, just enough for the aroma to latch on to the butter. The Vegemite lurked, waiting for its attack to my taste buds. I could hear it laughing at me. I looked back at Mick. He was leaning in, eager for my approval. I opened my mouth. I slowly bit down.

I hate to admit it, but he was right. With plenty of butter and just a hint of Vegemite, I almost enjoyed the piece of toast. By the time I reached the end of it, I could tolerate the smell and perseverance had prevailed over human instinct. Although I have not had Vegemite since, I can proudly say that I have tried it and survived—twice! May Australians never lose touch with their Vegemite loyalty.

Comments

[Ryan Hellyer]

Vegemite is demon poo.