“So you’ve flown to America, gone on a massacre because someone says scallion or cilantro one too many times and you find yourself on death row waiting the electric chair. “What would your last meal be?”. Its normally some variation on this question, but its one I’ve heard many times over the last 17 years in kitchens. A way to get discussion going, a way to get to know someone, a way to bond.
The idea of the last meal is not to debate whether there should be a corporal punishment system, its not to say what’s right or wrong. This is just the surreal concept of knowing your time has come and tomorrow you will be no more. That meal holds a choice that is a collection of experiences and emotions that your whole life has built to. That choice is the meal that is the personal epitome of food.
The last meal dates back at least to ancient Greeks and the Romans. A last meal was given due to superstition that once the condemned accepted the meal it was believed it would stop them coming back as a pissed off spirit and haunting the judge, jury and executioner. Fast forward a couple of thousand years and the practise is still granted today. I’m not sure if its seen as a humanising quality from society that by giving a final meal it transcends the acts perpetrated. As Europe has abolished the death penalty on the whole, for modern day accounts you have to look toward America. each state varies in its rules and regulations.
Recently in Texas they have taken away the privilege of the last meal due to a serial killer who ordered massive amounts of food “2 chicken fried steaks with onion and gravy, a triple meat bacon cheeseburger, a cheese omelette with ground beef, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers and jalapeños, fried okra with ketchup, 1lb of barbecued meats with 1/2 a loaf of white bread, 3 fajitas, a Meat Lovers pizza, 3 root beers; 1 pint of vanilla ice cream; and a slab of peanut butter fudge”. Then when it was brought to his cell he politely informed the guard whilst smiling that he wasn’t hungry. This fucked off the Texan prison board who decided that going forward no one else wouldn’t receive this honour. In Florida it cant exceed $40 cost and in Oklahoma its only $15!. In America it cant involve alcohol or tabacco, Europe seems to have been a bit more civilised, if civilised is the right word. It doesn’t seem right to say that although the Germans will give a bottle of wine its before sending someone to the guillotine, this was the preferred method up until 1931!!.
The last meals of some of the famous have been very humble, reflections of childhood or food that possibly gave a moment of comfort before the impending finale.
- Ted Bundy, serial killer, declined a meal, refused to eat what was brought to him.
- Aileen Wuornos, serial killer, cup of black coffee
- Saddam Hussein, complete cunt to humanity, chicken and rice and water with honey.
- Adolf Eichmann, Nazi bastard, bottle of Isreali red wine, only drank half. (lightweight).
- Dennis Bagwell, mass murderer, Medium rare steak with A1 Steak Sauce, fried chicken breasts and thighs, BBQ ribs, French fries, onion rings, bacon, scrambled eggs with onions, fried potatoes with onions, sliced tomatoes, salad with ranch dressing, two hamburgers, peach pie, milk, coffee, and iced tea with real sugar.
- John Wayne Gracy, serial killer, shrimp, fries, KFC bucket, strawberries and diet coke. (I guess he was watching his weight with the beverage)
- Timothy McVeigh, Oklahoma bomber, 2 pints of mint choc chip ice cream
Some people request just strange options, but obviously it has a meaning to them choices such as ” a single olive” or a ” pack of Jolly Ranchers”. These requests just seem to be a waste of an opportunity, but who is it for me say. The majority of the condemned seem to gravitate for comfort food, I imagine to trigger memories or take them away from the reality for a brief second. When researching you see pizza, cheeseburgers, KFC, Burger King, steak and eggs. This shows that food isn’t just taste and smell, a massive part of food is emotion based. Ferran Adria calls it the sixth sense of flavour. I would strongly guess that in the Swiss clinics that you book granny a one way ticket to, that the kitchens are producing people last meals that are steeped in emotion. I don’t think anyone is asking for a sous vide duck breast with confit leg bon bon, madeira reduction and cherry foam. They will be cooking food that brings a smile, emotional trigger and takes them back in time. Those chefs have the ultimate honour.
Asking people I have worked with its normally something that gives a sense of comfort, the odd KFC, curry, burger and steak but for the majority its “mums Sunday roast” normally beef with all the trimmings. Its not going to necessarily be the best technical display of cooking but its the meal you have been trained to emotionally get an erection for. If I surveyed 100 people, your mums gravy probably wouldn’t be the best but the important thing is that it is to YOU. That’s what gives it such reverence and stature to you. And in that moment of foreboding having an emotional hug through food doesn’t seem like the worst idea. The one think that does become very apparent is its never something pretentious, on trend and it is always something that is a guaranteed bet to be enjoyed. No one is chancing trying caviar or ortolan for the first time.
A small reflection that these inmates could take is that it is in their control to choose, same as the Swiss clinic patients. For most people we wouldn’t get to know. Just think Doris buys herself a nice steak for dinner and doesn’t quite make it past the afternoon, meaning her last meal was a slice of toast and a cup of tea that morning. There seems a great tragedy in that. Any of us could go at anytime, that’s the reality of life and why we should live our best version but past a certain age I think ill be eating and drinking what I want at anytime of day just to make sure. “His last meal was a low calorie, vegan, gluten free wrap, as he was watching his weight” is not something I want said of me. So next time you pass on something you really want maybe through laziness or being too sensible, remind yourself the disturbing fact it could be the last time you get that chance.
Looking in to this strange aspect of food has made want the opportunity to cook a last meal, whether the person has done right or wrong, is choosing to end it all doesn’t matter. The act has something that transcends it, it is a romanticized notion I know but one that would be the ultimate honour. The meal that is the culmination of their journey in life and being given the honour to cook that sounds humbling to me.
So after my rampage or my grandkids buy grandad the one way flight to Geneva, what will it be?. Well for me it has to be a freshly baked white bloomer, salted Welsh butter, chicken stew with dumplings, followed by Black Bomber mature chedder with crackers, and a large single Speyside malt (hopefully with a bit of age to it). Nothing fancy, charged in memories and perfect for reflection.
Happy eating.
FOOD ANARCHY 