My First Culinary Abortion for 2008

If cooking is half the battle, eating whatever you just cooked up is the remainder.

And if the quality of food is equal to the amount of effort and skill put into it, I should be thankful that I'm still alive today.

So on to tonight's lovely little tale. It's a story about how a seemingly innocent idea can turn out to be not-quite-so-innocent.

It's called Kakak O's Spaghetti Bolognaise with Corned Mutton.

Now, if the name didn't already scare you off, perhaps the description would.

First of all, gently heat up a frying pan. Preferably a non-stick one. I had the joy of cooking on a steel-only frying pan, and spent the rest of the evening scraping pieces of mutton fat off. And you might want to skip on putting some oil in; this'll be obvious in a few moments.

Next, open a tin of corned mutton (hopefully with a can opener or bayonet). Scoop out half the contents and dump it on the frying pan. The fat content of the mutton should be sizzling happily the moment it hits the pan, thus eliminating the need for cooking oil. Add some chopped onion if you like.

Allow the corned mutton to cook for a while. Yes, I understand it's redundant to cook something already pre-cooked, bear with me. Let it simmer in its own fat until it turns somewhat brownish.

Now dump in some tomato sauce over the pungent concoction. The ones that come in jars. Yes, those ones. What, you'd think I'd actually make my own sauce? Eh? It's cheating? Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

Hopefully, you'd have the spaghetti at least half-cooked by now. Otherwise filling your home with the rather strong smell of something that's containing bits and pieces you'd rather not see from an animal mixed with tomato sauce would have all been for nothing. Can't have spaghetti bolognaise without the spaghetti now, can we? I dare say, old chap.

Oh, you might also want to add some spice to make the sauce taste more like proper spaghetti sauce as opposed to reconstituted meat covered by tomato sauce. Correction, make that a lot of spice. I probably used up half of my pepper and oregano supply to make it not smell like a dead sheep.

So, once all this is done, the sauce cooked to taste and the spaghetti reasonably chewable, you now have the (dubious) honor of tasting it yourself. Go ahead.

By the time you finish that first bite, you might well be thinking,

"What the hell did I just make?"

Note that this is an expression of incredulity at the tomfoolery you've unknowingly committed. You have, in fact, created a culinary abortion. Note how the taste of the corned mutton contrasts to practically everything else. You are essentially eating a plate-full of dodgy sheep bits smothered in red paste and unsuccessfully disguised by spices.

You might also feel a little heavy and disoriented after that. Or you may collapse and see a bright light at the end of a tunnel, given the right circumstances. Don't worry too much, that's just the cholesterol speaking. Eating that dish probably contained the equivalent of two Double Big Macs and a generous side order of french fries. Go ahead, sleep it off. With any luck, you won't wake up seven weeks later with a catheter stuck in your nether regions.

And with that warning, I bid you all a good night (or morning).

[End Transmission]

Parents, Avert Thine Childrens' Eyes.

Well, well, well. Hello, there, boys, girls, and those unwilling to answer to either! Do you know what time it is? You don’t? What’s that? You don’t have a watch. No, that was a rhetorical question. Yes. Understand rhetoric? Good. Now shush. You know what time it is? It’s time to...

Cook With Kakak O!

Yes, kids, it’s time to don on your aprons, take out those frying pans, and turn on your gas-fired stoves again. Your good old Kakak is back for another helping of F-U-N! Shut up, in the back row. Oh, very funny. Spell that out again, why don’t you? What was that? Huh? Huh? Not such a big boy, are you? That’s right. Go cry outside, see if your mommy cares. Ahem. As I was saying, your favourite big bro is here for yet another recipe that even a monkey on weed can whip up. And speaking of weed, that’s the word of the week! Say it out loud, everyone. Weed. G-A-N-J-A. No, Timmy, it means the same thing. Never mind.

So, for this week’s cook-up, we’re doing something that’s very close to my heart. That’s a metaphor, because we’re not cooking my spine or my lungs. Yes. We’re cooking something that almost every struggling university student should be able to get their hands on. I’m talking about...

Kakak’s Canned Sardines in Tomato with Onions and Chilli Peppers!

Boy, that’s a mouthful. Ha! Culinary pun! I’m so witty. Let’s do that again, shall we?

Kakak’s Canned Sardines in Tomato with Onions and Chilli Peppers!

Alrighty, let’s get started. Put that down. Yes, you. On second thought, have a taste. We need to know if that fish has any botulism in it. You don’t want to try it anymore? Too bad. Shove it down that mouth of yours, missy. Now. Good. Any strange tastes? Slimy or rotten sensations? Eh? It tastes fishy? It damn well better, otherwise we’d have to rename it. Har! Rapier wit, yet again. Alright, here’s what you want on your pantry, floor, or whatever it is you put your ingredients.

You need...

One can of Sardines in Tomato Sauce...

Half an onion...

A teaspoon of oil...

And two chilli peppers.

Oh, I should also add that unless you want a very lonely dinner of overcooked canned organism, you’d better prepare something else as a side dish. Mmhm. Something like pasta. I like pasta. Don’t you? You don’t, huh. Wash your mouth with soap, you little delinquent. The security guard will take care of that after the show, so count your seconds, kiddo. Yup. Where was I? Oh, yes. Pasta. In that case, add...

Half a bag/pack of any kind of pasta.

Now comes my favourite part. That’s cutting the ingredients! Why do I think it’s my favourite part? Well, that’s simple! I like to think that I’m cutting into the flesh of my producer, who thinks my show is absolute drivel. You hear that, Mrs. Bigshot Producer? Your flesh. Yes, your live and pulsating flesh. Ahem. So who wants to cut the onions and the chillies? You want to? Okay. You might want to wear this gas mask...no? Suit yourself. Now, kids, while you’re cutting up your stuff, don’t do what Ollie is doing. You see, onions are like little canisters of mustard gas. That means if it gets into your eyes and nose, it isn’t going to be pretty. Just like 1914 all over again. Good times. Oh, look, Ollie’s crying. That’s because he didn’t use protection. Oh! Another pun! I’m so damn good at this. Now, if what’s happening to Ollie happens to you, don’t rub your eyes like he’s doing. It’ll only make it worse. What’s that? He also cut the chillies? Oh, that’s just brilliant. Watch closely, kids, this is what happens when you rub chilli into your eyes.

Ouch. That looks excruciating. Would’ya look at that. What a little trooper, still trying to cut stuff up even with swollen eyes the size of ripe plums. Whoops, there goes the tip of his left index finger. Let that be another lesson, children. Don’t even attempt to cut things when you can’t see. At least we’ve got some stuff to put in the pan. Nice job, Ollie! Pity about the finger, but you’ll survive long enough to regret it.

So who wants to play with the pan? You do? Attaboy. Er, girl. Yes. Now, put that oil in the pan. Good. Now, we’re going to wait for the pan to heat up. You want to know how hot it is? Why not put your hand in it...oh. You did. Well, that’s what you get for not understanding sarcasm. Go backstage and ask for burn ointment from the nice doctor over there. Just go. Hm. It seems my little helpers are decreasing in amount. Can’t be helped. If you want something done, you might as well do it yourself.

To make a long story short, especially with time running out, dump those cut onions and chillies in the pan. Then shake it! Shake it! Shake it like a Polaroid picture! Man, oh, man, pure gold. Wait. That should be stir it...eh. Same difference. Wait till it gets all nice and red and brown. Ooh, baby, yeah. Burn. Burn. Burn! Mwahahahah. Halright. Now that they’re all nice and spicy, it’s time to put in the fish. Don’t forget to take the fish out of the can. Sorry. You can’t always get what you want, let alone putting an aluminium can in a frying pan. Yup. And that’s a rhyme, Annie. Bet your bottom dollar on THAT. Yeah. Then you mix it in with the rest. Now, just because I’m too lazy to cook it in front of the camera, here’s the dish I cooked last week.

Okay, I agree that there shouldn’t be mushrooms or strange, white strands of mould. I’m not even sure why there are things living in there, but c’est la vie. That’s ‘such is life’, for you kids who can’t speak French. Deal with it. Anyway, it’s going to look something like this. Keep it on that hot pan till you see no more sauce. Speaking about hot pan, looks like our current dish is done, kids! Amazing! Oh, it’s just a bit burnt, so it’ll be edible for you. Kids eat everything. Everything. Good.

Now, for you at home wondering why the kids are now screaming and lolling their tongues out, don’t worry. Eating this will not get you possessed by any kind of demon. It’s just the healthy side-effect of eating copious amounts of chilli peppers! When you feed this to your children or your hungry, near-destitute student self, don’t be alarmed by the clamouring for water and possible dehydration. It’s like those party pills, only they’re more natural! Yeah! Who said stimulants had to be expensive. Oh, and you might have bowel problems for a few days after, but it’s all good. Bet you never knew your intestines could dance like, eh? Of course not. It’s the closest thing to eating street food in a third world country. Enjoy.

Pasta? Screw the pasta. I’m finished. Anyway, all you boys and girls should already know how to make pasta. If you don’t, you should’ve considered that before making this dish. Ha!

Alright, that’s about all the time we have today. If you have any suggestions for what you’d like me to cook, write them on a 4x4 piece of paper, then eat it. Har! No, I’m just kidding. Send it to the address below, and receive a complimentary picture of a donkey courtesy of yours truly. As for your suggestion, chances are I won’t bother reading them. But that’s okay, because that’s the way life is. Understand? Good. So, until next time, this is Kakak O saying...

Give me a raise, you cheap b-

*After its fifth episode, Cook with Kakak O was decidedly scrapped in favour of the more child-friendly pseudo-Japanese Fun with (the) Furries. How either could ever be considered “child-friendly” by anyone, however, is another story.*

[End Transmission]