#18

"AND THEN IT CAME TO ME..."
BEEN WAKIN' UP SOMEWHERES BETWEEN THE 4-6 A.M., FOR NO GOOD REASON, FOR OVER THE LAST MONTH NOW. TODAY WAS NO DIFFERENT. 4:30 CAME AROUND THIS MORNING. THE LIGHTS WENT ON. I WAS UP. I SHUFFLED MY BARELY MOVING FEET, TO THE SMOKING PARLOUR -AT THE OTHER END OF OUR ESTATE- AND WATCHED SOME SOCCER REPLAYS. A FAILED ATTEMPT TO LULL MYSELF BACK TO SLEEP WITH THE OCEAN SOUNDS OF BARCA FANS AT CAMP NOU.

DEATH ROW
SO, I'M LAYIN' ACROSS THE CHAISE, IN THE PARLOUR, SLEEPLESS. I'M WATCHIN' MY BOYS ABSOLUTELY CRUSH REAL MADRID... AND THEN IT COMES TO ME...


I OFTEN ASKED COOKS I USED TO WORK WITH, "IF YOU WERE ON DEATH ROW, WHAT WOULD YOUR LAST MEAL BE?" I'D GET A LOTTA, "FRIED CHICKEN... STEAK & POTATOES..." ONE GUY IN PORTLAND, OR., SAID, "I'D ASK FOR SOMETHING LIKE BRAISED WHOLE LEG OF LAMB & POLENTA, OR CASSOULET." HIS REASONING WAS, THE COOKING TIME WOULD BUY HIM AT LEAST A FEW EXTRA HOURS, IF NOT ANOTHER NIGHT. SLICK.


BACK TO ME. SO I'M LAYIN' THERE. I'M REALLY MULLIN' OVER THIS ONE. WHAT WOULD IT BE? I STARTED TO THINK ABOUT THIS MORE DEEPLY...

WHAT'S THE LAST PLATE I WOULD WANT TO LAY EYES ON? SO MANY OF THE REPLIES I GOT OVER THE YEARS WERE MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, POINTING TO COMFORT FOODS. GRANDMA'S THIS, MOM'S HOMEMADE THAT... THANKSGIVING DINNER, IT GOES ON.

THE MORE I THOUGHT ABOUT THIS, THE MORE I BEGAN LEANING TOWARD A VIBRANT PLATE OF BARELY TOUCHED VEGETABLES.

A DECISION WAS MADE...

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

AS A DEATH ROW INMATE, I WOULD CHOOSE TO HAVE MY LAST MEAL BE A VEGETARIAN DISH, PREPARED BY LULA'S, JASON HAMMEL. THE PRESENTATION WOULD COME FROM LE PIGEON AND LITTLE BIRD VETERAN, CHEVONNE BALL. 

PREPARED BY JASON, BECAUSE I REMEMBER THE TIME WHEN WE WERE SERVING CORN PUDDING AS A DINNER SPECIAL... WE DID THE FIRST ONE TOGETHER. HE HUNG A BORAGE FLOWER FROM THE END OF A STRING BEAN TO FINISH THE PLATE AND SAID, "SEE HOW IT LOOKS LIKE A LEAF, HANGING FROM A TREE'S BRANCH..." CRAZY. I WOULD WANT SOMEONE LIKE THAT MAKING THE LAST THING I SAW, OR ATE ON MY WAY OUT.

FOR PRESENTATION'S SAKE

I CALLED ON CHEVONNE FOR DINNER SERVICE BECAUSE I CAN SAY, WITHOUT ANY RESERVE, SHE IS THE FINEST SERVER I HAVE EVER HAD.

THERE'S A SUFI STORY OF A MAN WHO LOVES HEARING ABOUT THE STORY OF THE WINE WHILE HE DRINKS IT, MORE THAN THE DRINKING ITSELF...

CHEVONNE CAN TELL A STORY AT THE TABLE. SHE WON'T JUST STOP AT, "HERE'S YOUR POT AU FEU." IT WOULD ONLY BE ENOUGH IF YOU KNEW HOW MANY DAYS AGO THE CHEF STARTED THE PROCESS OF PREPARING THIS CROCK OF COMFORT, HOW MANY HOURS THE BRAISE TOOK, WHY ALL THE VEGETABLES HAVE SEVEN PERFECT SIDES, WHERE THE TERM "POT AU FEU" COMES FROM.

I WOULD WANT SOMEBODY TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT BEFORE I GO.

LATE.

-PETE