Tag Archives: Marmite

Clean Water Brunch

Last week, I suffered heart palpitations irregularly over a period of 24 hours. It worried me BIG time, and I knew I had to turn to ‘clean’ food.

Marmite Pasta with Boiled Pork and Peas

  • 1 serving of pasta
  • 50g of lean pork
  • 1 handful of peas
  • 1 tsp of Marmite
  • 1 egg

Basically, I cooked everything with water: boiled the pasta, pork and peas, and steamed the egg. I also added a bit of the pasta-cooking water to the Marmite, and drizzled generously over the dish before eating.

Clean, and very healthy. If not for me, for my heart.

(Ironic previous post: Deep-Fried Batter.)

Advertisements

Mushroom Marmite Magic

Remember Marmite Pasta? That was a simple as it could be. Today, I decided to use a ton of mushrooms with the dish. Mushrooms, spring onions, onions, garlic, butter and Marmite. As you can see, I added a small bit of chilli too, for the mandatory spicy kick.

Mushroom Marmite Spaghetti: Incredibly lazy, absolutely satisfying.

A perfect brunch for the lethargic noon bird.


Marmite Power

I got a suggestion from a friend to try this one out – Marmite Pasta. (In case you don’t know what Marmite is, it’s made from yeast extract, a by-product of beer brewing. Imagine a concentrated gravy, thick and sticky.) It’s Nigella Lawson’s recipe, which she got from someone else, and I’m sharing it here. I decided to have an evening snack and had no idea what I was getting myself into.

This five-minute meal is incredibly easy to make. While the pasta is cooking, toss a wad of butter into a hot saucepan. Add Marmite, according how salty you’d like it to be. Then, steal some of that starchy pasta-cooking water and add it to the saucepan as well. Stir and smile to yourself.

At this stage, I got itchy and dumped a portion of minced beef into the sauce. It reminded me fondly of Bovril, which is similar to Marmite, except that it’s beef extract. Well, at the least the original one is, until Mad Cow Disease changed it to chicken extract. I remember. When I was a kid, every time I was down with a fever, Dad would spread Bovril on toast and cut each slice into sixteen smaller parts. Then, he would stick a couple of toothpicks in each piece, so the plate resembled a dish of cocktail finger food. He did this ‘cos he knew I didn’t feel like eating proper food. Thanks, Dad. (:

Anyway, away from memory lane now. Finally, drain and add the pasta to the sauce. Mix and serve. Gobble and slurp.