I would want my last supper to be memorable for everyone
present, not just me. For that reason I would choose a location that had a
special place in everyone’s heart, The Painted Rocks in Georgian Bay. It would
be a warm day in July and we would have all taken the Pursuit Cabin Boat to get
there. My entire family would be there, all 34 cousins, aunt, uncles and
grandparents and the like. Someone would have brought a stereo that would play
some of my favourite albums: Play by Great Big Sea, Greatest Hits by Shania
Twain, The Show Must Go On by Hedley, Baptized by Daughtry, and plenty of my other
favourite singles. We would have spent the first hour walking around the gorgeous
rocks and looking for kindling. Strangely the island would be completely free
of every possible breed of snake. The frogs, rabbits and snapping turtles would
be numerous, a deer may even appear. We would return to the fire pit and build
our fire.
The tomato bruschetta appetizers would then be made. The
crunchy, freshly grilled baguette would contrast the texture of the soft tomato
topping. The crostinis would have been rubbed with garlic to accentuate the “bite”
in the dish. The topping would consist of freshly picked roma tomatoes, high
quality extra virgin olive oil, cayenne pepper, home grown basil, more garlic,
and lightly seasoned with sea salt and pepper. After a quick digestion period
the veal schnitzel would be served along with red wine sautéed mushrooms. Thin,
crispy, barbeque flavoured potato wedges would accompany the meal as well as
some chardonnay, champagne and a light red wine. The veal would be breaded in
the most delicate of batters, deep fried to a beautiful golden brown, and yet
somehow it would not feel the slightest bit greasy. As the batter crunches
between our teeth we would only feel the moistness of the perfectly cooked
veal. The potatoes would be seasoned with the mystery barbeque spice from my
childhood summer camp which I never seemed to be able to find back home. The
mushrooms would also be a delicious shade of golden brown but when eaten all we
would taste is the wine it was cooked in. Finally dessert would come and we
would start with strawberries marinated in champagne to help clear the palette.
There would be a tasting tray so that everyone could try a little bit of each
dessert. There would be fresh raspberries coated in Belgian white chocolate, a soft
cheesecake that tasted of the scent of vanilla, the family favourite raspberry
charlotte cake, strawberry rhubarb pie like tradition, Granny’s juicy blueberry
pie with berries picked fresh from the cottage, my mom’s apple crisp with loads
of extra oat topping, and brown sugar sour cream (a family invention) to dip
all of these luscious desserts in.
All of this would be cooked up by my family and I. We would
use as many fresh ingredients as possible and everyone would bring something
for the large group, potluck style. Everyone would be laughing with each other,
even the dead grandparents from either side of the family. I would get to spend a little
time one on one with everyone there, maybe a little extra time with some of my
favourite relatives and my immediate family. When conversation came to a
natural standstill we would all strip down to our bathing suits and go for an
early evening swim. We would end the night by watching the sunset go down and
having some freshly made gooey milk chocolate smores over our campfire.
