My Last Meal

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I’m not dying nor on death row. My last meal is something I’ve occasionally thought of, especially while enjoying favorite foods or dining at a fabulous restaurant. Or I’ll see a beautiful meal on a food blog and think, “That could easily be my last meal!”

It’s not a morbid thing in my mind. My last meal is a happy, celebratory thing, because if I could plan my last meal, then I’d also have the ability to eat and drink like there’s no tomorrow, cause there wouldn’t be. It would be a day-long meal of happy eating and drinking.

Upon rising, I would enjoy coffee, as I have for decades. My day never starts without espresso. Maybe with a croissant with butter and seedless raspberry jam.

Two perfectly-cooked soft-boiled eggs.

Chicago pizza. From Giardano’s, cause they deliver.

Next would be warm, boiled, fresh potatoes with unsalted butter and slices of Fontina or Taleggio or Morbier. Or all three.


Then mimosas with my two daughters.

An everything bagel with lox and cream cheese. And I’d eat the whole bagel.

A baked Brie with a cherry chutney, and good bread.

I’d stop for some fresh spring radishes spread with unsalted butter and coarse salt.

Lasagna. No, make that pastitsio. Or both.

I’m not big on sandwiches, but my last day-long meal would have to include a BLT. Good uncured bacon, garden-fresh summer tomatoes, and lettuce.

Chips with fresh salsa, spicy queso, and guacamole. And a Pacifico.

Paté. My mother’s recipe. Or foie gras, medium-rare, served on grilled bread.

Pasta Trapanese. Or maybe Puttanesca. Let me think. With a favorite pinot noir.

There would have to be a full raclette spread, with at least 6 friends.

Fire-grilled octopus. Maybe mixed with other fire-grilled seafood, but lots of octopus. And squid.

Then my husband’s burger, made by him, served on a brioche bun, toasted with butter. With lots of ketchup and mustard. Eaten with my husband.


A glass of Sauternes.

Roasted chicken, just out of the oven, cooked to perfection. I will eat it right out of the roasting pan.

Dim sum. All of it. Except chicken feet.

Last but definitely not least – a cheese platter, with all of my favorites old and new.

I’m not a big dessert eater, but I do love ice cream. I’d eat so much of it that I’d need a blanket to warm myself up!

And there would be lots of port. Or sherry. Or both.

So all of this is unlikely to happen, but maybe the point is, we can enjoy our meals like they are our last meals? Each and every one? Not to the point of gluttony, of course, 😬

The French have it figured out. Aperitif. Long lunches. Fabulous food. Wine. Hors D’oeuvres. Dinner. Often with friends. Definitely with family. Dessert. Dégustation.

A croissant or crème caramel isn’t viewed by the French as calories or with guilt, unlike us Americans. It’s about enjoyment and moderation. My mother, at age 91, still enjoys chocolate every day, and a cookie.

Let’s enjoy our meals. You never know – one will be our last.

Chinese Steamed Buns

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I enjoyed many variations of steamed buns while growing up – some were plain, some were filled with bright red pork filling, others looked like works of art.

They were especially ubiquitous during the time my French mother was in her Chinese phase (see Growing Up Foodie), which was a mostly wonderful culinary experience for our family.

But I never knew the extent of the magic created in a bamboo steamer until my husband and I went to our first dim sum restaurant.

This was in San Francisco’s Chinatown, 30+ years ago. It was a busy, bustling restaurant, full of people who spoke non-English. Waiters pushed little carts around tightly-placed tables and it was a bit unsettling. This is what the insides of the carts look like:

We weren’t sure what to do, so we kept pointing at food and nodding, because everything looked so good. There must have been at least 200 different items from which to choose. Maybe even more.

We were so excited, hungry, and a little nervous, that I think we ended up with food for a dozen people. Knowing us, we probably finished it all.

Years later we visited the same restaurant, this time with our daughters who were 10 and 12, and fortunately we knew what to do. This restaurant must be the place to go because it was still bustling and the food was superb. I know we could find the same restaurant again, but unfortunately we can’t remember the name of it to share with you.

This recipe for steamed buns is my one of my husband’s favorite things to eat. He often asks for them as part of his birthday dinner, like he did last week.

The dough is a basic bread dough, and the filling is Chinese sausage. It’s a recipe my mother created, because of her love of Chinese sausage.

So here’s the recipe for my hubby’s favorite steamed buns:


Bread Dough

1 tablespoon yeast
1 tablespoon sugar
1 cup warm milk, at about 110 degrees
3 1/2 cups white flour

Heat 1/4 cup of water in a large bowl to approximately 110 degrees; if you can put your finger in the water and hold it there, it’s hot enough. Sprinkle on the yeast and sugar, and let it sit for a few minutes.

Then stir up the mixture, place it in a non-drafty part of your kitchen, and let it sit for 5 minutes; it will have doubled in volume.

Stir in the warm milk, then add 3 cups of flour. Mix as much as you can with a spoon. Then turn out the dough on your work area and, using flour only as necessary, knead the dough until it is smooth. This should take about 5 minutes. Don’t add too much flour – just enough to keep the dough from sticking.

Form the dough into a ball, and place it in a clean, greased bowl. Cover the bowl with a damp towel, then put the bowl in a warm, draft-free place for about 1 1/2 hours.

It will have doubled in bulk. Punch down the dough, and let it rest about 20 minutes.

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To Prepare the Steamed Buns filled with Chinese Sausage

Have about 7 ounces of sliced Chinese sausage on hand, as well as toasted sesame oil.

Turn the dough out onto the work area. Roll the dough into a cylinder, and divide the dough evenly into 12 pieces. Form each piece of dough into a disc, about 3 1/2″ in diameter.

Sprinkle a few drops of sesame oil in the middle of the disc, and then top with some sausage slices.


Pull up all four sides of the disc, then squeeze them together and twist to seal the dough.

As you make the buns, place them in a steamer basket that has been oiled. Or, alternatively, cut out squares of parchment paper and spray those with oil to keep the buns from sticking, placing them underneath the buns. Just make sure the steam can move around the steamer basket.

When you have finished making all twelve buns, let them rise in the steamer basket.

Meanwhile, bring a wok or pot of water to a boil on the stove, with the water level with the bottom of the steamer basket.

After the buns have risen for about 20-30 minutes, turn the water down to a simmer, then place the steamer basket in the wok.

After about 8-10 minutes, check the buns; the dough should be firm. If they are sticky, keep steaming another minute or two.

Remove them as soon as you can from the steamer basket and let cool slightly.

Then enjoy! They’re soft and the most fragrant while warm.

Here’s a panorama iphone pic of a dim sum restaurant we went to in New York City in 2017. It truly is as big as it looks!

I encourage everyone to enjoy dim sum at a reputable Chinese restaurant. There’s always chicken feet – for the hard to please!

Full disclosure: I first published this post in February of 2013, soon after I made these steamed buns for my husband’s birthday, but felt obligated to make the buns again, for my husband’s birthday, and post better photos.

Chinatown, NYC

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I’ve been lucky enough to visit Chinatown in both San Francisco and New York City multiple times. I say lucky, because it’s such a unique peek into an extremely different culture from my own.

It’s also a foodie adventure, as much of the food isn’t even recognizable to me.


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When I’ve visited Chinatown, it’s never to shop, because I’m typically staying at a hotel and not cooking. My visits are all about observing and taking photos.

The produce, whether on the sidewalks, or inside shops, is gorgeous. And just like in Europe, it’s impeccably arranged.

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The seafood variety is always impressive, and extremely interesting.



Dried seafood is ubiquitous.

Inside the shops, you see a multitude of boxes and cartons of goodness-knows-what, from teas to herbs, tinctures to rubs. I remember when deer antlers and other now illegal items were in full view.

One gentleman who was stacking fish decided my camera was in his way and he yelled at me. I felt badly, although I really didn’t feel like I was in his way, as someone who is an expert at respectably visiting markets as a tourist.

Plus, I’ve not ever been the only non-chinese person walking through Chinatown with a camera. But still, I felt badly, because I’ve managed to say “photo?” in many a language, and it is the polite thing to do. Before my next visit to Chinatown I will learn how to say “photo” in Chinese/Mandarin.

Exactly 20 years ago, my husband and I took our daughters to San Francisco, and of course Chinatown was on the agenda. We had a favorite dim sum restaurant that was our lunch destination, but before that we showed our daughters the entrance to Chinatown, and walked some of the main streets.

At the age of ten, my younger daughter had somewhat of a negative reaction to Chinatown. It had to do with the many window displays of hanging plucked chickens and ducks, live turtles in buckets, and so forth. That day she became a vegetarian. I kid you not.

We really didn’t think she’d follow through with it, but twenty years later, she’s still a dedicated vegetarian.

Being that she lives close to Chinatown, she is familiar with restaurants there, and joined us for dim sum at Nom Wah Dumpling Shop, a restaurant she recommended. It was excellent, although I do miss the little metal carts that used to be pushed around between tables in the old days. I guess these were deemed unsanitary.

So now you look at a photo menu of dim sum items, and then check off what you want on a piece of paper.

I really wanted to try chicken feet, but with a vegetarian and a really food-squeamish guy at the same table, I knew I’d be the only one eating them. So we stuck with the basic dumplings, fried rice, pancakes, and greens. All were fabulous.


The reason I posted on Chinatown, is because there really aren’t that many in existence except in big cities. So if you don’t live in these cities, or don’t visit them, you don’t get the fabulous experience of seeing how other people live and shop for food. Shy of actually visiting China, that is.

Except for being yelled at this one time, I will continue to visit Chinatown, wherever it might be. And you should too. Don’t let it feel intimidating.

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I really wanted to buy a durian and really see what one tastes and smells like, but I was afraid we’d get kicked out of our hotel!