My Last Supper

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.