Cut-price cuisine

Saturday, 25 May 1996

So the rand has tumbled but you still want to keep entertaining with style? Read on...

WILLIE MEYER, he of the Jaundiced Eye, prepares these rather extravagant fry ups® which use eggs, boerewors, vegetable sausages, sliced baked potato, and cheese.

The result tastes quite good, and goes down very well with the sea air on the South Coast, but is an unrecognisable mess which would probably raise eyebrows in more genteel surroundings.

Now I, as a sensitive, caring man of the 90's, recognise that in these days of quality time, one cannot be spending hours over a hot stove to present a trayful of delicate puff pastry hors d'oeuvres of quails eggs, truffles, anchovies, and haggis.

On the other hand, "A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou" will work only on the first date. The modern Kama Sutra of cooking requires dishes that are delicious and elegant, but speedy and cheap.

For example, there's my Kevin Curren Mussels, so named because I prepared them on a drunken Saturday in a tent in Park Rynie as we gleefully watched Curren getting trounced by Boris Becker in the Wimbledon finals on a black and white Telefunken portable connected to a car battery.

This was one of those political realities of the old South Africa. A lot of us were proud that Curren made his way to the finals, until he stupidly announced that he was playing as a "Bok". Naturally, we had to support Becker.

The mussels were hastily scooped off the outer wall of the tidal pool. A container of fresh cream from the corner café went into the pot with half as much dry white plonk, some black pepper and garlic. Simmered on a gas stove. Eaten between aces. Delicious!

For a spectacular el cheapo meal that can feed hungry hoards for next to nothing, there's always spaghetti carbonara a la Vespa, which I learnt from Alessandro Vespa, a Sardinian pathologist who moonlights as a jazz pianist.

One drunken evening when we staggered, ravenous, back from the club, Alé whipped together a half dozen eggs, some black pepper, and a little salt, and tossed this into a large bowl.

When the packet of spaghetti was cooked and drained, he tossed this into the bowl and stirred the mess. The heat of the spaghetti cooked the egg.

Topped with fried bacon bits, garlic, and dried red chillies, this fed an entire quartet and prepped them for another four hours of jamming.

Sometime, spectacular comes from shock value. Like my George Bush chilli sauce, so named because had George Bush had this stuff available when he visited Japan, he might not have lost his lunch.

For my farewell dinner before leaving Sardinia, my pals had booked a traditional seafood restaurant. Sardinian seafood — eel, squid, shellfish, and fish — is boiled, poached, or grilled with no spices, resulting in an extremely strong fishy smell.

I'm psychologically incapable of dealing with this. Firstly, because traditional Tamil cooking goes out of its way to eliminate this smell by judicious use of garlic. Secondly, because I spent many months of my life in the USA scrubbing pots in the university cafeteria where baked fish frequently featured on the menu.

I did not want to be rude by changing the choice of restaurant, so I took a large handful of dried red chillies, roasted and tossed into a blender with some spirit vinegar and salt. Blended on high, mixed in some sunflower oil, and took this along in an elegant jar.

I smeared this fiery red paste on every piece of food that found its way onto my plate, effectively nuking any fishy smell that might have otherwise led to my doing a George Bush impersonation.

I also encouraged my pals to follow suit. The result was that we swigged vast quantities of Sardinian wine to wash out the burn between mouthfuls. A splendidly drunken evening resulted.

The following day, I had to make up about a dozen jars of the stuff as gifts.

Speaking of the morning after, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and for a hedonistic Sunday morning, there's nothing quite like flambéed cherries.

Take a large frying pan, toss in cherries, sugar, and brandy. Mix over medium heat with a wooden spoon and set alight. When the alcohol has burned off, toss in a couple of teaspoons of unsalted butter. Serve topped with fresh cream.

You can prepare this stuff for dessert at the dinner table with a gas stove. Use sliced bananas when cherries are out of season.

Finally, for those of you guys who are single and about to rush out and impress your women friends with these recipes, bear in mind that the difference between a fox and a dog is about six beers.