WHEN we think about iconic Australian foods, any one of Vegemite, meat pies or lamingtons could lay claim to the honour of being called our national dish.
But how many drinks hold the same position in the Australian psyche as the humble tin of Milo?
Milo turns 80 today, which has prompted me to think about what the Aussie pantry staple means to us all these years after its inception.
Milo was developed during the 1930s as a means of supplementing children's diets with the nutrients they weren't getting due to the harsh conditions of the Great Depression - Milo was named after the Greek mythical character known for his strength.
All these years later, with the world pulling itself out of another depression, kids are still drinking Milo - but not necessarily for the health benefits, especially if they are allowed to make it themselves.
I certainly remember my parents being strict on how many spoon fulls I was allowed, and I remember one friend in particular’s preference for mixing a malty sludge which was often more Milo than milk.
When she would visit our houses we would hide our Milo from her because we didn't want it to run out.
And consider how many ways people have thought to drink (or eat) the stuff in the last 80 years.
Traditional, with hot or cold milk, straight out of the tin, or in one of the many offshoot products like chocolate bars and pre-mixed drinks - Nestle's "fortified tonic food" has come a long way since the 1930s.
It really is more than just a drink you can have hot and cold - I used to put it on bread and ice-cream.
This guy claims to have the recipe for the world's best Milo. What do you think of his method?
It is also important to remember there are not a lot of things that today's grandparents can recognise from their own upbringing in the lives of their grandchildren - Milo is one.
Five generations of Australians have now been raised on the malty treat, and as the production of other iconic Aussie brands continues to head overseas, we should remember Milo continues to be produced in Smithtown, the same rural New South Wales town it was first made in 1934.
So the next time you are thinking about giving a tourist a taste of salty, yeasty Vegemite, in some strange hope that they might actually like it, try going with Milo instead.
They can even eat it straight out of the tin if they want, and who doesn't like that?