- Joined
- Feb 4, 2013
If you can have alcohol, I can have bong hits. Or, if you're being to be a pill about it having to be food, pot brownies delivered an hour and a half prior to the meal itself. I don't think I could properly enjoy a last meal otherwise; I have little appetite generally.
First I want sushi. Most of it would be from a nice sit-down sushi-only restaurant in Japan (maybe in Takayama (The Takayama in Hida) since that's where I had the best sushi in my life), but with California rolls (fuck you, it's my last meal) from the sushi place on the top level of the food court in the Pacific Mall in Markham (near Toronto). Said rolls have fish eggs instead of imitation crab meat and are therefore the best in the world. In addition to the California rolls I would have eel, cucumber and cooked shrimp sushi flown in from I guess Takayama.
I would also have unbreaded chicken wings, cooked at a low temperature and constantly flipped, until the skin is crispy and the bones brittle. There would be no sauce, so help me god if there's sauce.
Next I would have a piece of steak. The part of the meat closest to the fat would be cut off and cooked, so that every bite would have some of the fat on it. The steak strip would be cooked until the chef thought it was burnt, then cooked a bit more to make sure.
Finally I would have a hamburger made with unground Hida beef, bacon from Canada (but not back bacon, which foreigners call Canadian bacon), and sauteed white mushrooms also from Canada (Ontario, specifically). The bun would be fresh and would be a normal bun, not some kind of wacky fancy bun they always trick you into buying at the store, all covered in weird off-flower and shit.
And a seaweed riceball.
To drink I would have a strawberry banana smoothy (with yogurt) as a primary, and then some really high-quality ginger ale to wash everything down. I would need at least two smoothies and a metric fuckton of ginger ale.
I would eat maybe a 1/4th of this food. If these guys are going to kill me anyway, I don't have to be grateful for shit.
First I want sushi. Most of it would be from a nice sit-down sushi-only restaurant in Japan (maybe in Takayama (The Takayama in Hida) since that's where I had the best sushi in my life), but with California rolls (fuck you, it's my last meal) from the sushi place on the top level of the food court in the Pacific Mall in Markham (near Toronto). Said rolls have fish eggs instead of imitation crab meat and are therefore the best in the world. In addition to the California rolls I would have eel, cucumber and cooked shrimp sushi flown in from I guess Takayama.
I would also have unbreaded chicken wings, cooked at a low temperature and constantly flipped, until the skin is crispy and the bones brittle. There would be no sauce, so help me god if there's sauce.
Next I would have a piece of steak. The part of the meat closest to the fat would be cut off and cooked, so that every bite would have some of the fat on it. The steak strip would be cooked until the chef thought it was burnt, then cooked a bit more to make sure.
Finally I would have a hamburger made with unground Hida beef, bacon from Canada (but not back bacon, which foreigners call Canadian bacon), and sauteed white mushrooms also from Canada (Ontario, specifically). The bun would be fresh and would be a normal bun, not some kind of wacky fancy bun they always trick you into buying at the store, all covered in weird off-flower and shit.
And a seaweed riceball.
To drink I would have a strawberry banana smoothy (with yogurt) as a primary, and then some really high-quality ginger ale to wash everything down. I would need at least two smoothies and a metric fuckton of ginger ale.
I would eat maybe a 1/4th of this food. If these guys are going to kill me anyway, I don't have to be grateful for shit.