Beloved TV chef dies in helicopter crash at 43!

The news of Mynie Steffens’s death hit South Africa like a punch to the chest. One moment she was a vibrant television presence, a chef who brought fire, personality, and warmth into people’s homes. The next, she was gone — killed in a helicopter crash at just 43 years old. The shock was immediate, and the grief that followed was raw and widespread. It wasn’t just the loss of a TV figure; it was the loss of someone who felt familiar, approachable, and deeply alive.

On Monday, November 10, Steffens was flying a helicopter over a citrus farm near Patensie, a quiet agricultural area in the Eastern Cape. It was a routine pest-control flight, the kind of work she had done many times before. Steffens was an experienced pilot — flying wasn’t a hobby for her, it was a passion that threaded through her life just as naturally as cooking did. She often shared cockpit videos and photos online, blending adventure with the steady joy she took in mastering difficult things. But that morning, something went wrong.

According to investigators, the helicopter struck power lines during the operation and crashed into a grassy field. Photos that later circulated showed the aircraft smashed and scattered, its frame broken open by the force of the impact. Authorities confirmed what the images already suggested: the damage was catastrophic. Steffens did not survive.

Her death immediately sparked an outpouring of tributes — not scripted, not formal, but heartfelt. Behind every message was the same theme: this woman meant something to people. She wasn’t just a chef on TV; she had a way of making viewers feel connected to her. Warm, bold, charismatic without trying — she invited you in and made you feel like you could take a seat at her firepit and share a meal.

Steffens became a household name through her hit show Speel met Vuur — Play With Fire. The title fit her perfectly. She cooked with flames, with instinct, with the kind of confidence that comes from loving what you do. Her style wasn’t fussy or pretentious; it was grounded in South African tradition, community, and fun. Viewers didn’t just watch her cook — they watched her live.

Her longtime friend and co-host, Aldi van der Walt, spoke publicly through her grief. The two had known each other since high school, long before television or fame entered the picture. Van der Walt described Steffens as “a big heart, a gentle soul, the glue that kept people together.” You could hear the ache between the words. Their reunion years later to create their VIA TV show wasn’t a business decision — it was a full-circle moment. Two friends stepping back into each other’s lives and building something they could be proud of.

“Mynie lived life to the full,” Van der Walt said. “She was always full of ideas that turned into successful endeavors, winning over people as she went along. She could make time for anyone from any walk of life — that was her priority.”

It’s rare for someone in the public eye to be described the same way by friends and strangers, but Steffens was. People who never met her said she felt like someone they already knew. Someone who would pull up a chair, pour a drink, and ask you how you really were. That generosity of spirit came through the screen in every episode.

Her network, VIA TV, released a statement that captured the bittersweet truth of who she was: “You were adventurous until the end. With Play With Fire, you showed us how to approach life with curiosity and bravery. Sleep softly.” They didn’t exaggerate. Steffens lived with a kind of fearless openness — the kind that makes people want to follow your lead.

She wasn’t just a TV personality. She wrote a cookbook in 2021 titled Mynie Plays with Fire, which celebrated open-fire cooking in all its rugged, flavorful, and deeply South African glory. The book wasn’t a vanity project. It was her heart on the page — recipes tied to memories, landscapes, and the thrill of cooking outdoors. She wrote the way she lived: with humor, enthusiasm, and a clear sense of self.

Her work, whether in print or on screen, was unmistakably hers. She brought people together. She didn’t complicate things. She didn’t pretend. She had that rare presence that makes others feel safe to try, to taste, to fail, and to try again.

Her death leaves a gap in South Africa’s culinary and entertainment world that can’t be filled. Not because the industry lacks talent, but because she brought something else entirely — a mix of authenticity, courage, and kindness that doesn’t come around often.

What makes her loss even heavier is the way she lived. She wasn’t reckless. She wasn’t chasing danger. She was simply doing what she loved — working outdoors, piloting her own helicopter, moving through the world on her own terms. She lived with intention. She built a life shaped around joy, risk, and craft. And it ended in the very environment she loved so deeply.

In the days after the crash, fans shared countless stories: meeting her at markets, watching her behind-the-scenes on set, remembering the recipes they first tried because she made them look doable. These were not celebrity anecdotes. These were the kind of stories you hear about a neighbor, a teacher, a friend. That’s the kind of imprint she left.

For her friends and family, the loss is unimaginable. For her colleagues, it’s a reminder of how rare she was. And for her viewers, it’s the end of a connection that felt personal.

Steffens’s legacy won’t be the crash, the headlines, or the tragic way her life ended. Her legacy is the heat of a firepit, the crackle of wood, the laughter in a busy kitchen, the bravery of trying something new, the calm confidence of a woman who walked straight into her passions and never apologized for it.

She lived boldly. She cooked boldly. She flew boldly. And she leaves behind a community of people who are better off for having experienced even a small piece of her light.

Mynie Steffens was 43. She lived fully, she lived honestly, and she lived with fire — right to the end.

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