I just finished the book My Last Supper: 50 Great Chefs and Their Final Meals by Maria Dunea. The photo of Anthony Bourdain posing nude with a leg bone is striking, but my favorite of all them is a photo Gabrielle Hamilton breastfeeding her son. Both mother and son look so incredibly serene.
Anyway, though my palate is not nearly as refined as those featured in the book, I still must declare the menu and the setting for my own last supper.
What would you eat? Sliced prosciutto, arugula, parmesan, olive oil, and a bit of lemon juice along with warm crusty bread straight out of the oven. We would eat family style. Spicy, hot spaghetti and perfectly cooked steaks would be served.
For dessert, I would have rich chocolate truffles and I could eat as many as I want without worrying about how sick I’d feel in the morning. After all, this is my last supper.
What would you drink?: A nice Chianti and maybe some champagne with dessert. Again, I won’t have to worry about a morning headache so mix away!
Where?: I struggle with this one because I love being near the ocean and watching the waves crawl onto the beach. However, I have to be honest with myself. I am a land dweller at heart. I would want to eat outside in the backyard where I grew up. It would be autumn when the leaves are at their brightest. The air would be cool enough for a sweater, but warm enough to go without a coat. When the sun fades, we will build a fire and keep drinking.
Music?: None. Just the sound of the breeze flowing through the dried leaves overhead and the voices of my dearest friends and family all around me will be enough.
Who will be there? My family and my closest friends. Probably about 20 people total.
Who will cook?: I would prepare the meal because that is what I love to do.