Swine Mixture

+++= Swine Mixture:

My latest foray into the world of unusual culinary delights.

David Spurgeon of Dublin (codename: Spug), whose great grandfather is the subject of , read about my addiction to Marmite. So he wrote me an e-mail message that included this tidbit, which is a matter of great historical interest to us all: My father had a favourite supper when he was in college. It consisted of Marmite, honey and sardines in a toasted sandwich. He called it 'swine mixture'! Marmite is a powerful yeast extract—extremely pungent, some would say bitter. Honey, of course, is sweet. And sardines are—well, fishy. I reckoned all those flavors waging war on one's palate must be a curious sensation. Naturally, I could hardly wait to try it. So the next time I accompanied my wife to the supermarket, I made sure she brought home a 106-gram tin of Brunswick Canadian Sardines® packed in Natural Spring Water. These were meaty sardines, silver skin, bones and all. (And they were surprisingly greasy despite the spring water.) I toasted two slices of Di Carlo's Original Premium Quality Sourdough Bread® to a light golden brown. Then I spread them with a thin coating of Marmite® (I like a little more Marmite than the typical person, but it's still a thin coating). I gently laid the little slabs of silver sardines all over the toast. Four sardines covered the whole sandwich—these were large sardines. Then for the coup de grace I used Bradshaw's Genuine Pure Spun Clover Honey®. Spreading it on the top of the sardines was no easy task, but the finished product was a sight to behold! My wife, who was watching in horror, will affirm that I ate the entire sandwich in man-sized bites (no nibbling). What's more, I fully chewed and savored every bite, without gagging and without any beverage to wash it down. So how was it? Interesting. Let's just say that if I ran a deli, I don't think I'd call it the specialty of the house. But it did have a certain appeal. And I've eaten far worse. Nevertheless, it is not likely to become "a favourite supper" for me. Not that I couldn't acquire a taste for it—but my wife refused to kiss me for twelve hours! My sincere thanks, nonetheless, to David Spurgeon for the recipe.