Last Meal

I read a book last night that was called "My Last Supper" that basically interviewed famous chefs with questions about what they're last meal would be. It was very interesting and got me to thinking about what my last meal might be like.

So here it goes. My dinner would have to entail the clause that you could eat as much as you wanted and not feel overfull. The book asked 5 questions: where would this meal be, who would attend, would there be music, what would you drink, and what would be on your final menu.

My location would be under a large tree, in an open field in France behind my fabulous (nonexistent) house, in late spring or early summer, where I could smell honeysuckle growing.

My dinner companions would be my family and close friends, Tony Bourdain for those hilarious kitchen stories, Alton Brown, Dave Chappelle would perform, Marilyn Monroe for my brother, Maya Angelou, Oprah Winfrey, Marlon Brando (circa Guys and Dolls days), the Angryblackbitch.blogspot.com, Shirley Corriher, my Aunt Gailon, my old dog Georgia, and all the various musical, culinary, and cosmetic persons named later. Oh, and Edgar Ramirez, Gael Garcia Bernal, and Olivier Ramirez just for me to look at. :)

My musical guests would include Tina Turner, Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, Anna Netrebko, Jill Scott, The Fugees, Aretha Franklin, Bonnie Raitt, and Ella Fitzgerald. And when Ella sang "Rocks in my Bed," and sings that part about being underloved and overfed, for once I would disagree.

To drink I would have Gallons of made from scratch margaritas and tequila shots, untold bottles of champagne, Fiji water for when the tequila made me dizzy, and pitchers of my mint iced tea.

For my last meal, we would start with warm La Brea or Kayser baguettes split and spread with french butter and drizzled with tupelo honey from the Savannah bee company. Then Tom Douglas's panzanella salad and the caprese salad from Taverna, Mario Batali would cook a seafood course with shrimp and scallops, someone from Louisiana would make a crawfish poboy and crawfish etouffee, Mario would also make polpettini, for the main course there would be organic grain fed Bistecca alla Fiorentina with rosemary, thyme, salt, and pepper cooked in butter and olive oil till Medium, fried chicken from John T Edge, a risotto from Taverna, my baked penne with sausage and lots of balsamic, a chili cheese dog from Coit's with a homemade Root Beer, my Mom's mashed potatoes, fried okra, grilled zucchini and squash, my Mom's sauteed mushrooms, my grandma's green beans with bacon (the ones from years ago when she had her eyesight), canned asparagus cooked in butter (yes, I know, but I grew up eating them), and fresh corn.
For dessert, there would be in season fruit at it's magical peak, peaches from the way they tasted when I was a kid, fraise de bois, raspberries, blood oranges, cantaloupe, cherries from Alice Waters, who would handle all of the fruit and veg, then Ina Garten's brownies without the instant coffee, pastries from Pierre Herme, Dalloyau, Gerald Mulot, Francois Payard, and Laduree, my pralines or prawleens if you will, a cake or cookie from Martha, chocolates from Valrhona, La Maison du Chocolate and Scharffen Berger, a selection of Bologna's finest gelato and Sicily's finest granita, my peach and strawberry ice creams, Terry's butter cookies w/vanilla sugar, cream puffs, and at very last, a cappucino w/sweet whipped cream and another warm baguette, buttered and honeyed. Then we'd listen, dance, and sing along with all the concert performers. Then I'd bid adieu to everyone but my closest family, then go inside and shower and then Federic Fekkai, Oribe, Oscar Blandi, and Orlando Pita would fight to do my hair and Keyvn Aucoin would do my makeup (I want to look pretty when I go). I'd get into the softest, fluffiest bed with soft sheets and my husband would hold me and I would hold my kids (neither of which I have right now) and then I would retire.
So, how about you? What would you want for the last meal of your life?