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.

Roasted Crabapples

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I wrote recently about using apples picked from my apple tree, in order to share the apples with the sneaky raccoons so they don’t steal them all. Now, it’s not that I don’t like being resourceful, it’s just that unfortunately these apples aren’t the greatest tasting apples. They’re somewhat dry and bland, and for that reason alone, I’ve donated them to the raccoons in previous years.

Now crabapples were something I was not familiar with at all until we moved to this property about 11 years ago. We have one crabapple tree, which is right next to the apple tree.

I know people make a lot of crabapple jelly, and when I was pondering what to do with a bunch of apples and crabapples that I’d picked off of the two trees, I really wanted to do something different from jelly.
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So all I came up with was the apple-based chutney, and the apple-peach butter. Not that creative, but they were both great.

What I needed to do was actually taste the crabapples, because I never have before. Or perhaps if I did, I put it out of my memory.

Yuck. What sour little things. And not only that, but they have seeds.

The day I was forcing myself to figure something to do with these crabapples was also a day I was wishing for fall to come faster. I had a poussin to roast, along with some sweet potatoes. Bingo.

Into a large bowl, I placed cut up sweet potatoes, a few of those green apples, chopped, and some whole crabapples.
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I tossed them all in some olive oil with some salt, pepper, and dried thyme.

Then I simply placed everything around the seasoned poussin and roasted away.

I had also steamed some Brussels sprouts (did I mention how much I love fall?) and put those on a plate with chicken and the roasted vegetable and fruit mix.

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The verdict? Roasted crabapples are delicious. And, of course, they pair really well with sweet potatoes. Plus, you can’t really feel the seeds when the crabapples are roasted, which to me, is a plus.

It was 103 degrees outside but I didn’t care. This meal was fabulous. I’m going out to pick more crabapples!!!