The season would dictate my last meal. But if I got to choose when it was, it would be the end of September.
Some plants have their last glorious rites in the autumn, like tomatoes, while others are just beginning. In California, where I live, we start to see beautiful apples – tart and sweet pink ladies – as well as watercress and bitter leaves like the chicories.
I’d have to be by the fire, with something spit-roasting. It’s a very important part of my life: cooking at home, beside the kitchen table, by the fire.
A grass-fed fillet steak for the grill would be perfect. I’d get it from a rancher I know in Bolinas; it may sound elitist, but it’s my last meal! We source from various different ranchers in northern California; it’s very important to me that the animals have good lives.
Before cooking, I’d salt and rub the meat with rosemary and thyme. To serve, I would make a little butter with garlic, parsley and bone marrow, if they had it. Whatever’s available – I really take my cue from my butcher.
Potatoes, parboiled and fried with garlic, and watercress would accompany. I don’t really dress the salad – perhaps some oil and vinegar – but I like its simple pepperiness.
My friends and I have a ritual of cooking together. This occasion would be no exception. We grill, we talk, we eat, we listen to jazz, we clean up. This would perhaps be followed by some dancing to Aretha Franklin (fortunately I have a lot of young friends) and then, to finish, Bach’s St Matthew’s Passion.
Dessert would take the form of an apple galette. At Chez Panisse we do this with a little browned crust turning up at the ends and serve it with honey ice-cream. If I didn’t have apples, I’d do it with figs. It’s important that a galette looks homemade, with an irregular edge.
We would drink two magnums from Domaine Tempier in Bandol: one rosé, one old red. The proprietor there is 96 years old! It’s wine that at once gives you courage and joie de vivre.
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