Little Marmite Men

“Little wha??” you say? Soldiers, marmite men, same thing. I call them marmite men just to be difficult (and by that I mean to annoy my husband, an effect with seems to have worn off over time. Damn…)

You see, overcoming marmite was one of my greatest and most proud achievements in the journey to integration into British life. Now it’s one of the things I miss most when I’m away (I often travel with a mini-container because it’s one of the greatest comfort foods to me when I’m back in the states).

I like my yolks cooked, and this is because I have yet to work out how to have both runny yolks and solid whites. I would rather have solid yolks than snot-esque whites. Do not try to imagine me dunking my little marmen into the solidified masses of yellow, because even I am not that daft.

Since moving to this country, so many doors have opened to me in terms of food. Typical English fayre may not be the most exciting of things, but there’s a great selection of fresh fruit and veg here (at prices much cheaper than in the US), and the influences from the rest of of the world seem to create an exciting rush of culinary delight. I think the main thing is that in supermarkets here, there are mainly food aisles with a couple of junk food aisles in between; in the US there are mainly junk food aisles with a couple of frozen vegetables in between.

*Ahem* and yes, I am the queen of generalisations…

Other discoveries? Crusty bread, fresh spinach (or fresh veg generally… I always only had frozen!), wine, a paradise of vegetarian food selections, roast potatoes, etc…

Now if only I could get past the instant gag effect brought on by breakfast tea…

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