By IRENE CHAPPLE
The story of Pirate Pepper is such a humdinger it's hard to believe. But Mr Pirate Pepper, the talk-like-a-machine-gun Andrew Kemp, swears it's true.
Back when Kemp was 19, he found himself drinking martinis in a hazy bar in Miami.
He recalls the barman saying: "You realise this is eight
ounces of pure booze" as vodka splashed into the vermouth. Ahh, said Kemp, that's fine.
And he ended up playing poker with some boys from Fort Lauderdale. As the night wore on and the vodka flowed free, the cash ran dry. And so one of the boys - "I never saw them again" - pulled out a secret recipe, crumbling with age.
Actually, that's not entirely true. It was a bit worn at the edges but "I think it was his mum's shopping list" says Kemp now. "I looked like a shopping list."
No matter, the boys were in a joyously alcoholic fuzz and this was - yes - a pirate's recipe, 500 years old and handed down the generations ... to end up on the table of a bar in Miami. Valued at $100 and lost to Kemp in the next round.
And now the Pirate Pepper secret recipe - which originally included a large dash of rum and truckload of chilli, but has been calmed for the layman's palette - can be found in supermarkets around New Zealand.
But that is jumping ahead.
Kemp is 36 now and for 17 years he was a corporate soldier, climbing the ANZ ladder till he led the FX sales team.
In his spare time, Kemp would cook up his Pirate Pepper sauce, for use on the family meals and as gifts to friends.
At the bank, the money was good, the stress was high and the hours were long. He threw it all in after the birth of his two kids, now four and two.
Kemp is now a vociferous advocate of work and lifestyle balance. He has starting writing a book. "There are lots of books telling you how to climb the corporate ladder, but not many telling you how to jump off," he says.
He jumped but then got a bit tangled up figuring out what do to. He's still considering playing with property and wondered about opening a restaurant.
But friends were singing Pirate Pepper's praises and so Kemp decided to start making it in bulk. This year, it was one of only 12 New Zealand companies to show at the SIAL d'Or international food awards in Paris. Pirate Pepper sauces now come in four flavours and are stocked in about 100 supermarkets from Whangarei to Invercargill. Of the 20,000 bottles put in the market, at least half have sold.
But so far Kemp's new life is sucking up the cash - about $50,000 - and wife Margaret's taken up a postie run to help make ends meet. But they get invaluable time with the kids.
Kemp expects Pirate Pepper will begin to turn a profit in another year at the earliest. He wants to export and plans to set up a distributor in the United States, where interest has already been aroused through the website.
But first he needs a student to be his salesperson at the three-day Food Show starting in Auckland today.
Saucy tale of Pirate Pepper
By IRENE CHAPPLE
The story of Pirate Pepper is such a humdinger it's hard to believe. But Mr Pirate Pepper, the talk-like-a-machine-gun Andrew Kemp, swears it's true.
Back when Kemp was 19, he found himself drinking martinis in a hazy bar in Miami.
He recalls the barman saying: "You realise this is eight
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