People always seem disappointed when I say my desert island dish is buttered toast with plenty of Marmite, but, for me, no elaborate dessert or spanking-fresh seafood even comes close in the pleasure department. Sadly, however, my editor wouldn’t let me devote several hundred words on the best way to make it, so, instead, here’s the recipe that I go for when I crave the same flavours, and can be bothered to make slightly more effort. The original idea came from Nigella Lawson, who credits it to her great friend Anna Del Conte (who apparently based it on the tradition of cooking pasta in meat stock the day after a roast), and I can see why both stuck their necks out, in the face of no little criticism, to share this Anglo-Italian masterpiece with the world. Truly, I am grateful. I won’t claim that it’ll convert Marmite haters – you’re making it wrong if you can’t taste the main ingredient – but if you like Satan’s own spread, then you’ll love this. The Marmite Other yeast-based spreads are available – indeed, Lawson herself has confirmed that the dish works just as well with Vegemite, which has, in my opinion, a more stock cube-like character; I also try recipes using its sweeter Aussie rival Promite and a jar of Kiwi Marmite brought over by a friend earlier in the year, which is softer and less aggressively salty than the British stuff. All of the above will sub in here with minimal fuss, and though I still prefer the straightforwardly savoury spread I grew up with, in reality, the differences, though striking to aficionados, will probably feel minor to those unused to this genre of foodstuff. Apparently the truffle Marmite is a particularly good choice, too, if you like that kind of thing. The sauce Del Conte’s recipe is the simplest – just what I’d stick on toast, in fact (butter and Marmite), plus a little of the pasta cooking water to turn it into a sauce. Though I always add way more Marmite than she suggests, it’s a hard formula to improve upon. Monica Galetti goes down the same route, but with three times as much butter, in her book At Home (well, she is a professional chef), which, unsurprisingly, makes the dish incredibly rich. While that’s no bad thing, it does preclude consumption in the kind of quantity I require from my comfort food. Olive magazine turns to carbonara for inspiration, whisking egg yolks, Marmite and parmesan, while Delicious magazine makes a white sauce tinted brown with Marmite, and Mob Kitchen combines cream cheese, Marmite and cheddar to make a thick, and robustly cheesy partner for gnocchi. The aggressively savoury nature of Marmite makes it a natural partner for neutral dairy, but, though it’s also a great friend to cheese (Marmite and cheddar sandwiches were my packed lunch order of choice on childhood days out with my dad), my testers and I find the amount in the Mob recipe a little overwhelming, while the creaminess of the egg yolks dulls and the milk dilutes the punch of the star ingredient. Simple, it seems, is best here. The extras That said, I wouldn’t object to the idea of extras that enhance, rather than obscure the flavour of the Marmite – food writer Hetty Lui McKinnon adds shiro miso to her noodles in her book To Asia with Love, which gives the sauce sweetness and depth. Galetti goes for honey, which works similarly, and Delicious mag stirs in some dijon mustard, whose acidity and heat is always a great choice for ramping up a white sauce. I’m basically interested only in savoury, fatty flavours here, though, so I’m going to eschew sugar, heat and bite in favour of grated cheese, but in a slightly smaller quantities than the Delicious, Olive and Mob recipes, so the Marmite remains the dominant note. After all, if you’re making this, I’m assuming you’re in the lover rather than hater camp. Though the authenticity boat sailed for Naples the moment the M word was mentioned in the same breath as pasta, cheddar introduces a tanginess that distracts from the Marmite. The sweet nuttiness of Delicious magazine’s gruyere isn’t a bad choice, and pecorino romano is a possibility – albeit a very salty one in partnership with the Marmite. But you can’t beat Del Conte and Olive’s parmesan. To help the cheese blend into the sauce, I’ve borrowed a technique from the dish cacio e pepe, and combined it with the starchy cooking water before adding it to the pan – though, if you’re averse to faff, you could just chuck it in and hope for the best. The vegetables Though I rarely have a meal without vegetables, in this instance I’m content to have a salad first (or fork some kimchi out of a jar while I’m cooking), because, like cacio e pepe or aglio e olio, this is a dish whose simplicity is a large part of its charm. That is not to say there aren’t veg that perform well with Marmite – Galetti’s sauteed mushrooms, for example, are an excellent choice if you’re looking for a more sophisticated dinner, while the sweetness of Mob kitchen’s sauteed leeks proves such an enjoyable addition that I even consider plonking some on top of my next round of Marmite toast. The pasta For me, this is best made with a long pasta such as Del Conte and Olive’s spaghetti, Galetti’s tagliatelle or the egg noodles in McKinnon’s Chinese-Australian version – the way the butter sauce clings to the strands makes it an extremely satisfying thing to slurp. But I would be entertaining delusions of grandeur to insist on this; it will work with just about any pasta shape you have to hand, and, as the Mob recipe proves, is also very good with gnocchi (another comforting foodstuff). And should you yearn for a baked Marmite pasta dish this winter, allow me to point you in the direction of Delicious’ Marmite macaroni cheese. The toppings I love the fresh, oniony notes that McKinnon’s chives and Mob’s spring onion greens bring to proceedings, as well as the crunch of the toasted breadcrumbs on top of Delicious pasta bake. But I’ve made these optional extras, because, let’s be honest, sometimes the greatest comfort of all is having dinner on the table in 10 minutes with minimal washing up waiting for you afterwards. I hope this recipe brings you as much pleasure as it does me. Perfect Marmite spaghetti Prep 5 min Cook 12 min Serves 1 80-100g spaghetti, or other long dried pasta Salt 1 tbsp dried breadcrumbs (optional) 25g butter, plus a little extra for the breadcrumbs 10g parmesan, finely grated, plus extra to finish ¾-1 tsp Marmite, or to taste A couple of chive stems, or the greens of 1 spring onion (optional) Put the pasta in a pan of salted, boiling water, stir briefly and cook for eight to 11 minutes, depending on how al dente you like it. Meanwhile, if you’re making your own breadcrumb topping, melt a little butter (or a dash of oil) in a frying pan, then add the breadcrumbs and fry until golden and crisp. Tip out on to a plate. Once the pasta is almost ready, scoop out a ladleful of the cooking water. Put the grated cheese in a heatproof bowl, then gradually whisk in just enough of the hot water to make a smooth, bechamel-like paste. Melt the 25g butter in the breadcrumb pan and stir in the Marmite. Drain the pasta well and toss it into the Marmite butter, along with the cheesy paste. Transfer to a bowl and top with the breadcrumbs, if using. Chop the chives , if using, directly over the top, scatter over a little extra grated parmesan and serve. Marmite pasta: comfort food extraordinaire or an outrage against Italian gastronomy (despite the fact that we’ve been eating pasta here since at least the 14th century)? And what other unlikely combinations hit the spot for you?