14 June 2018 Comic Al Prodgers shares his favourite recipe: OKAY, I admit – I do cook, and I like it. But I shouldn’t be allowed to. For starters (“starters” … get it?), good cooks are focused and methodical – qualities I became a comedian to avoid. If you could hear the static inside my head, you wouldn’t let me into a kitchen filled with sharp instruments. My wife lets me help with basic preparation while she keeps our family well fed with lots of stuff that’s “fresh” and “organic” – words supermarkets use as a euphemism for “overpriced”. She believes you are what you eat. That may be why she says that during my bachelor years I was greasy, full of chemicals and available to be picked up at any petrol station. I’ve learnt not to argue because she’s deadly accurate with a seedless Satsuma. It cheers me up that we can now buy fruit called Satsumas, because I’d feel stupid paying 40 bucks for a packet of plain old naartjies. Apparently, shops are justified charging premium prices for good ingredients because cooking is the new rock ‘n’ roll. I must be tone deaf. Whatever it was that gave BB King the blues, it wasn’t because his soufflé flopped. Jimi Hendrix wrote Purple Haze, not Brinjal Haze. And even though the Red-Hot Chilli Peppers sound delicious, just one look at what they (don’t) wear on stage is all it takes to realise they never go anywhere near a hot spattering stove. What I really like about cooking, though, is seeing how much my kids enjoy eating. When they were babies, trying solid food for the first time, each new taste sensation was a wildly exciting experience. Pieces of avocado were explored, not only for texture and yumminess, but also for their aerodynamic properties. Their laughter as they watched banana slice Frisbees whizz across the kitchen was pure delight. And their admiring smiles at me when I managed to peel a Satsuma without wrecking the kitchen, felt like a standing ovation. Nowadays, they’re more discerning (excruciatingly fussy) and I’m on a performance diet, i.e. I polish off anything they won’t eat without a performance. Simple food prepared with love and laughter – when I keep that in mind, I realise cooking isn’t about sautéed quail’s spleen. So, who cares if my cholesterol is higher than the value of the Rand? I cook. With relish.
Al Prodgers Cooks
Recipe: Winter Ostrich Bolognaise Ingredients: 1 x Bottle good red wine. (The rest is really optional.) 1 x Large onion (diced) 500g Ostrich mince 250g Mushrooms (sliced) 1 x Tin red kidney beans 4 x Large tomatoes (diced) 1 x Large carrot (grated) 1 x Large parsnip (diced) 5 x Baby marrows (sliced) 50ml Tomato puree 15ml Chutney 1 x Sprig fresh rosemary (wounded) 10ml Beef stock powder 2 x tsp Masala spice 1 x Garlic clove (crushed) Freshly ground black pepper Olive oil 4 x portions Spaghetti
Preparation: 1. Open the wine, drink, enjoy. If you like, carry on… 2. Do all the slicing and dicing before you have too much wine. 3. Chat with your family/friends. 4. Get somebody to sauté the onions in a large pan until transparent. 5. Add the masala spice. 6. Add the ostrich mince and brown. 7. Add the mushrooms, beans, tomatoes, carrots, parsnip, baby marrows, puree, chutney, rosemary, stock powder and garlic. 8. Simmer for 20 minutes while drinking and socialising. 9. Season to taste with black pepper. 10. Did I mention wine? 11. Cook the spaghetti in boiling, salted water. (Al dente? Good Luck!) 12. Drain when cooked. (The spaghetti, not you!) 13. Top the spaghetti with bolognaise and serve. (If you’ve run out of wine, there might be a beer in the fridge.)
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“A perfect balance of insight, engagement, introspection & fun. The outcome is a deeper understanding of how to be a more effective communicator and a more respectful listener.” Vivienne Bezuidenhout, Executive Creative Director, Wildfire
14 June 2018 Comic Al Prodgers shares his favourite recipe: OKAY, I admit – I do cook, and I like it. But I shouldn’t be allowed to. For starters (“starters” … get it?), good cooks are focused and methodical – qualities I became a comedian to avoid. If you could hear the static inside my head, you wouldn’t let me into a kitchen filled with sharp instruments. My wife lets me help with basic preparation while she keeps our family well fed with lots of stuff that’s “fresh” and “organic” – words supermarkets use as a euphemism for “overpriced”. She believes you are what you eat. That may be why she says that during my bachelor years I was greasy, full of chemicals and available to be picked up at any petrol station. I’ve learnt not to argue because she’s deadly accurate with a seedless Satsuma. It cheers me up that we can now buy fruit called Satsumas, because I’d feel stupid paying 40 bucks for a packet of plain old naartjies. Apparently, shops are justified charging premium prices for good ingredients because cooking is the new rock ‘n’ roll. I must be tone deaf. Whatever it was that gave BB King the blues, it wasn’t because his soufflé flopped. Jimi Hendrix wrote Purple Haze, not Brinjal Haze. And even though the Red-Hot Chilli Peppers sound delicious, just one look at what they (don’t) wear on stage is all it takes to realise they never go anywhere near a hot spattering stove. What I really like about cooking, though, is seeing how much my kids enjoy eating. When they were babies, trying solid food for the first time, each new taste sensation was a wildly exciting experience. Pieces of avocado were explored, not only for texture and yumminess, but also for their aerodynamic properties. Their laughter as they watched banana slice Frisbees whizz across the kitchen was pure delight. And their admiring smiles at me when I managed to peel a Satsuma without wrecking the kitchen, felt like a standing ovation. Nowadays, they’re more discerning (excruciatingly fussy) and I’m on a performance diet, i.e. I polish off anything they won’t eat without a performance. Simple food prepared with love and laughter – when I keep that in mind, I realise cooking isn’t about sautéed quail’s spleen. So, who cares if my cholesterol is higher than the value of the Rand? I cook. With relish.
Al Prodgers Cooks
Recipe: Winter Ostrich Bolognaise Ingredients: 1 x Bottle good red wine. (The rest is really optional.) 1 x Large onion (diced) 500g Ostrich mince 250g Mushrooms (sliced) 1 x Tin red kidney beans 4 x Large tomatoes (diced) 1 x Large carrot (grated) 1 x Large parsnip (diced) 5 x Baby marrows (sliced) 50ml Tomato puree 15ml Chutney 1 x Sprig fresh rosemary (wounded) 10ml Beef stock powder 2 x tsp Masala spice 1 x Garlic clove (crushed) Freshly ground black pepper Olive oil 4 x portions Spaghetti
Preparation: 1. Open the wine, drink, enjoy. If you like, carry on… 2. Do all the slicing and dicing before you have too much wine. 3. Chat with your family/friends. 4. Get somebody to sauté the onions in a large pan until transparent. 5. Add the masala spice. 6. Add the ostrich mince and brown. 7. Add the mushrooms, beans, tomatoes, carrots, parsnip, baby marrows, puree, chutney, rosemary, stock powder and garlic. 8. Simmer for 20 minutes while drinking and socialising. 9. Season to taste with black pepper. 10. Did I mention wine? 11. Cook the spaghetti in boiling, salted water. (Al dente? Good Luck!) 12. Drain when cooked. (The spaghetti, not you!) 13. Top the spaghetti with bolognaise and serve. (If you’ve run out of wine, there might be a beer in the fridge.)
“A perfect balance of insight, engagement, introspection & fun. The outcome is a deeper understanding of how to be a more effective communicator and a more respectful listener.”  Vivienne Bezuidenhout, Executive Creative Director, Wildfire WORK WITH AL TODAY
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