Marmite is now a hundred years old. And as with anything that survives a century in good shape, I felt obliged to try it at least once. So I found a tiny little jar of it at the supahmarket, selling for about three times what it'd go for in the UK. I got it home, and spread it thinly on buttered toast. Mmmmm funky!
I get the impression it tastes different to everyone -- not surprising for a substance (industrially derived "yeast extract") that was not (not by a long shot!) on the menu of any of our primate/primitive hyoo-mon ancestors. Well, to me it tastes like beef gravy. People say "no, that's Bovril!". No, really, Marmite tastes to me like beef gravy.
In other news, the Guardian describes a real-life enactment of the play that would have been written if Beckett, Sartre, and Neil Simon had ever collaborated