Killer Eats 

But what if you could have only one last meal? And we're not talking a Christ-type last supper -- pretty much goes without saying that's a bread-and-wine kind of occasion. What if, say, you committed a heinous crime and were sentenced to die tomorrow? Plenty of people have been there. And plenty of other people are fascinated by what death row denizens choose for their final menu. Until last December, the Texas Department of Criminal Justice -- well-known leaders in American executions -- had a page on its website dedicated to death row inmates' final repast requests. Books have been written about criminals' last meals, and the website deadmaneating.com is devoted to the subject. And with very few exceptions, these condemned souls take full advantage of the opportunity to eat whatever they want on their respective states' dimes.

Who wouldn't? John Wayne Gacy (executed in Illinois, 1994), for instance, enjoyed Kentucky Fried Chicken, fried shrimp, french fries, strawberries and Diet Coke. Walter LaGrand (Arizona, 1999) supped upon six fried eggs, 16 strips of bacon, hash browns, pineapple sherbet, a breakfast steak, a cup of ice, 7-Up, Dr. Pepper, Coke, hot sauce, coffee and -- of course -- four Rolaids. And Aileen Wuornos (Florida, 2002), so popular these days as portrayed by an uglified but Oscar-winning Charlize Theron in Monster, ate only a burger and other snack foods from the prison's canteen. Then you have Robert Buell (Ohio, 2002), who hoped his final meal of a single black, unpitted olive would one day sprout from his body an olive tree (as far as we know, it didn't).

To get you in a last-meal state of mind, your intrepid CL staffers have offered their idea of fine day-before-death dining. So if, like so many others, you're interested in execution cuisine, grab a fork, strap on a bib and prepare for some comestible punishment.

Matt Brunson
Film Editor

If I have a soulmate in the canine world, it would have to be that dog in the TV commercial who bounds around yelling, "Bacon! It's BACON!!"

Honestly, is there a more perfect food on the planet than bacon? Never mind that it causes the arteries to clog up like I-77 following a snowstorm. But is there a better tasting -- and better smelling -- food than these delectable strips of Porky Pig? I think not. Even a vegetarian friend says the mere whiff of bacon constantly reminds her that it's the one meat she misses the most.

So for a last supper, bacon would be at the top of the list. Nothing fancy, mind you -- no bacon milkshake or bacon and jelly sandwich. Just a couple dozen crispy strips.

But what else? Ah, so many options, so little expandable jean space. But off the top of my head, I'd have to go with chicken wings with ranch dressing as an appetizer, rice as the starch, either watermelon or strawberries for a fruit, and, for dessert, my house specialty: An ice cream sandwich melted in the microwave for eight seconds and then lovingly lathered with peanut butter. Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it.

For a beverage, it would have to be milk for the main course and then coffee afterward -- life simply isn't worth living without these two drinks always on hand. If I was extremely thirsty and absolutely craved a soft drink, I'd lean toward Dr. Pepper, with Coca-Cola and Sunkist slugging it out for second place.

I realize that I'm missing just about the most nutritious of all food groups. Yup, a vegetable. For that, I'd opt for green beans. Swimming in bacon grease, of course.

Lindsey Grossman
Editorial Coordinator

Since I would be worry-free about food poisoning, fat grams, calories and cholesterol, I'd make my last meal a fast food feast. I'd start off with a 6-piece order of McDonald's Chicken McNuggets (the new, all-white-meat ones). My second course would consist of a Mexican pizza from Taco Bell, a Cajun fillet biscuit from Bojangles with extra mayo, an Arby's junior roast beef sandwich (my stomach is only so big), a White Castle cheeseburger (from the actual restaurant, not the frozen kind), and an order of McDonald's fries on the side. Dessert would be a tie between a Jamocha shake from Arby's and a Wendy's frosty with fries for dipping. This would all be washed down with a regular fountain Coke from McDonald's. Yes, the Coke has to be from McDonald's -- they just taste better there. Sounds crazy, but I swear I'm not the only one who feels that way. Then I would pray to be put out of my misery before indigestion set in.

John Schacht
Music Editor

Ambience is the First Course of any good meal, especially Your Last. So I'd bypass the smorgasbord approach and head south of the border, where there's a small fishing village in Baja California called Puerto Nuevo -- you can get a steaming lobster tail the size of your forearm delivered fresh out of the Pacific to your table in 10 minutes. For the price of a stateside salad, you get the crustacean and all the rice, refries, fresh cooked tortillas and fixin's you can eat without any of the stuffiness you normally associate with lobster eating (except at Red Lobster, of course). Maybe a dozen Kumamoto oysters on the half-shell for an appetizer, a barrel full of cold cervezas, good company and a Pacific sunset. I'm ready now, warden.

Timothy C. Davis
Staff Writer

If you're going to eat a "last supper," it follows that your life is probably drawing to a close rather soon. (With the possible exception of some odd new diet that eschews evening consumption, mind you. Damn dieters ruin it for everybody.) My first thought would be to order a bottle or three of Glenfiddich or some other high-falutin' Scotch, and guzzle like Popeye: "till I can't drinsk no mo." That way, when death's knell rings, I'll be too hammered to care. If a liquid supper isn't to be, I wouldn't necessarily go for filet mignon or some cream-soaked haute cuisine. No, I'd opt for simple and fresh: raw, cold-water oysters with a little drawn butter and lemon juice as an appetizer, along with a nice mug of ice-cold beer. Come to think of it, my whole meal would probably be seafood. I'll soon be swimming with the fishes anyway, right? Bring on some rare giant sea scallops, maybe some Maryland clam chowder, some simple fresh-caught catfish dredged in salt and pepper and flour and then fried. Throw in some french fries and cole slaw, plenty of napkins and two or three more (big, icy) beers, and I could die a happy man -- were it not for the whole before-my-time thing, of course.

Samir Shukla
Listings Editor

There's a saying in India's lore that loosely translates to something like this: a slow eater is a slow worker. I've spent my life upholding that adage -- the slow eater part, that is. I've watched friends suck down a meal in minutes while I prefer to taste every bite, chew every molecule and relish each nuance of spices. As a former meat eater, I would preach a veggie meal for the Last Supper if only to avoid contributing to another animal's premature end. So, bring on the appetizer plate filled with Samosas (spicy, potato-filled Indian pastries), Italian bread with olive tapenade, fried Southern squash and sauteed mushrooms with garlic. Forget soft drinks and booze, nothing presents the real taste of a dish as when it's accompanied by a glass of cool water, with the occasional exception of properly brewed iced tea. The main course would be a portion of my wife's eggplant Parmesan, a slice of pizza from Singa's Famous Pizza in NYC, a serving of mom's thepla (spicy, flat Indian bread), Chinese fried rice (veggie, of course) and a bowl of Crispix cereal. Finally, a cup of Chai prepared by yours truly. And I would take my bloody time drinking it, too.

Linda Vespa
Copy Editor

I'm a really picky eater. There are lots of foods I won't eat -- maybe I just don't like them, maybe I have ethical problems with them. Excluded from my culinary cravings are shellfish; eggs; guts (liver, kidneys, hearts, brains, tripe, etc.); veal; meat or poultry still on the bone; mayonnaise (looks like pus on a sandwich to me); and McDonald's hamburgers. The list could go on.

There are, however, some meals I will always remember. Sometimes the setting or the company made them so memorable, sometimes it was just the gustatory sensations of the food itself. If I had to pick my last meal from this stored-memory menu, it would include:

A sandwich of thinly sliced, salty prosciutto and fresh creamy mozzarella on a crusty Italian roll, lovingly made by my godmother.

My grandmother's German-style spinach with sauteed onions -- a recipe no one has been able to duplicate since her death.

A special-request vegetable plate from a decidedly non-vegetarian restaurant in Las Vegas: I got perfectly cooked carrots, asparagus, baby squash and other veggies surrounding puff-pastry filled with wild mushrooms in a burgundy wine sauce.

A sliced steak sandwich from Helmer's in Hoboken, NJ. Toast topped with thin slices of tender, rare beef, all covered with a savory garlic, butter, and wine sauce that permeates the meat and sops into the bread. And a side of crisp shoestring fries.

This would all have to be washed down with a wonderful full-bodied Cabernet. Funny, I can't think of one dessert -- guess I'll have to avoid the executioner until a sweet memory implants itself in my brain.

John Grooms
Editor

The dueling cultures of my background, from Gaffney, SC, to Brussels, Belgium, mean somebody's going to have to do some traveling to get my last meal together. If it was breakfast, I could just fry up some homemade pork sausage from the regrettably named Grubb's Meats in Gaffney and put it in a big croissant from the bakery around the corner from where we lived in Brussels. But since we're talking about a larger meal here, I'll start off with my Belgian grandmother's (or Memere's) best appetizer: puff pastry filled with roast chicken in an herbed cream sauce. I'll follow that with my Rutherford County grandmother's (or Grandma's) juicy-inside crisp-outside fried chicken that was good down to the very bones, along with some of her legendary cornbread and a side order of shredded pork barbecue from Bridges' Barbecue in Shelby, NC. I'll need a break, but after that, we can get rolling again with Belgium's national dish, mussels and fries (the mussels steamed in white wine with onions, celery and chervil, and the fries, as per tradition, cooked in a mix of oil and lard). Follow that up with a cultural mix of roast fillet of hare a la Bruxelloise, served with Southern fried squash and pinto beans. All this would be accompanied by Orange Crush (in the old, squat, brown bottles) and a couple of bottles of French wine, picked out by CL's Tricia Childress. And finally, if I haven't exploded yet, I'll have a bowl of Grandma's banana pudding (preferably cooked the day before and then kept in the fridge), and a big slice of Memere's rice pudding pie with a páte sable crust. At that point, I would have eaten so much I'd want to die anyway. But at least I'd die happy.

Sam Boykin
Reporter

I am Sam. Sam I am. And I'm here to tell you, about my last meal plan. For CL's food issue is drawing near, a point my editor has made quite clear. "Write this blurb!" was his command, so I got to writing, cold beer in hand. And while writing while drinking makes typing slow, alcohol is like brain oil, and helps the words flow. Now back to the story, sorry for the preamble, but the six-pack is gone, and I'm starting to ramble.

Although I love to eat, a connoisseur I'm not, and rarely use words like epicure or bon vivant. But I do adore food, this much is true, and have been known to nosh on a Big Mac or two. But those days are over, now that I've matured, and fear that my belly will soon turn to lard. Today it's low fat this and low carb that, as I battle the bulge, and try not to get fat.

For it seems every year, my waist continues to expand. I wish I still wore 31 jeans like when I was the Sam the Man. But after mulling over my options, as to my favorite gastronomic infatuation, I'd have to say it's lobster, that tasty, stalk-eyed crustacean.