Picturing: That Jar of Marmite

I can still picture it, that jar of Marmite that my mother seemed to keep active on an upper kitchen cupboard in our 'Greenwood' (Nova Scotia) PMQ. My five-year-old self could not reach for it, and I was old enough to know that I had no inclination to reach for it... that little glass jar of some disgusting greasy paste. That smell ― yes, that smell ― has lingered in my olfactory memories all these years later.

Two years ago I read an article somewhere, probably a British website or newspaper, about the health (health?) benefits of consuming (please no) Marmite. My English mum would understand the savoury British staple, but why would she spread it on toast for me? Actually, I don't remember on what 'platform' I took that substance, but I've heard that Brits enjoy it on toast.

Reading the article pushed me to ask for it in my local Metro supermarket. A gent in Aisle 2 answered my question with: "No, I haven't seen it for a while. I think there's a supply problem."

Then I forgot all about my quest.

This morning I asked again: the lovely lady in Aisle 3 at Metro was confused at first; a smart blank look: "Is it a candy? What is it, exactly?"

"It's a... yeast extract. Brits like it."

"Oh, that black jar, the little black jar!"

I couldn't contain myself: "That's it!"

"Have a look in Aisle Two. That's where the international foods are kept."

I didn't see anything black outside of Soya and Teriyaki sauces, and....

... a voice from behind me: "I found it!"

Now that I'm back home with my precious little jar (and some sushi), I'll need to read up on the best ways to 'enjoy' Marmite....