Last Supper

There's a game that Chef's play behind closed kitchen doors, a game they play after their shifts, when they go hang out at bars and late night eateries to unwind. Said game is "Last Supper." It's an easy game, consisting of one question: it’s you're last day on earth, what do you eat?













Beautifully brought into the tangible realm, Melanie Dunea's "My Last Supper: 50 Great Chef's and Their Final meals" is a must have for any foodie. Dunea, a really wonderful photographer, has a true gem on her hands.
With an intro by my favorite haggard and disgruntled ex-chef Tony Bourdain (who by the way, asks this question of every chef he meets and always has), and a couple of recipes as well, it's a bonafide hit. So of course, this begs the question, what would be your last meal on earth.
I have to admit, it’s a really hard question for me. There are simply too many things that I love to eat. Also, I’m a big fan of seasonal eating, so will I be dying in spring or winter? Am I alone or with others? Do I still have teeth? Ultimately of course, it all goes back to memory and comfort. Overwhelmingly, people want the simplicity of their childhoods, that dish that Grandma made only on Easter Sunday, the local delicacy that the rest of the world shuns.
Again, food is so much more than nourishment, its what home is. I have so many wonderful memories wrapped around meals. The endless food extravaganza in Northern Spain with the family of girl who took care of me when I was a child; the fresh chocolate croissants I used to eat after swimming in my Aunt's Pool in South Hampton, Chutney, Crepe, Rice with Raisins, fresh Challah, Futomaki, Taco night...
I hope I get a wonderful response from this and get all of your last meals! My choices are straight from childhood, and are wrapped up in oddities, magic, and comfort. This took me a long time to figure out, and I'm sure if you asked me next month, or on my last day on earth, it would change… but here it is today:

Pan Seared Shad Roe on Buttered Toast (Oddity):
It is exactly what it sounds like -- the roe sack from a Shad fish.
Something that my English Mother introduced to me very early on, it looks and sounds revolting to most people, but its odd texture, and mild almost smoky taste reminds me of dinners at the kitchen table with my Mother looking on proudly as her American daughter gobbled it up.

Sautéed Fiddlehead Ferns with Garlic (Magic):
They look like ingredients in some witches brew, or the charming home of your friendly woodland nymph, but in fact they are just baby ferns that have yet to unfurl themselves. They are strange looking, and are earthy and bitter, but sautéed with olive oil and tons of garlic, they are heavenly.

My Mother's Flan (Comfort):
Everyone is convinced that their Mother or Grandmother made the best _________ (fill in the blank). I am proud to say, that I have yet to taste a Flan that rivals hers. To that end, with all cooking I do, and the arduous feats of sugar that I've been trained to produce, I can't make my Mother's Flan. Flan always means the holidays to me, family, and standing over a stove making caramel on cold snowy nights.