My Final Meal

If I were a prisoner on death row just hours away from execution I would NOT order a meal of calamari with ratatouille, filet mignon with truffles and Strawberry Sherbet. I would reject a plate of Duck Liver Terrine with Confit Quail garnished by Baby Leeks and Porcini mushrooms. I would sneer at Saskatoon berries and Niagara peaches dripping in lavender honey and maple syrup. Peking duck, Scottish kippers, caviar, abalone Siberian meat dumplings and escargot washed down with a fruity chardonnay and a supple merlot would not be of interest to me. I’d insist on a baked Russet potato freshly picked from an Idaho organic farm topped off with Schuler bar cheese and sour cream and washed down with Martinelli’s sparkling cider. In my final moments I’d reflect on how Luther Burbank began with the seeds of an Early Rose potato plant and worked for years to breed the awesome tuber that has come to be called the Idaho Baker. And I’d feel sad as I meditated on how the brilliant but impoverished Burbank had to sell his tater masterpiece to a tycoon named J H Gregory for $150! For forty years the world’s potato scientists (and yes, there are such people) have worked to improve the Idaho Russet and have failed to find a serious contender. When I’m finally executed for my crimes of inanity and ascend to the ‘Heaven for the Misunderstood’ I’ll dine on the manna from planet Earth, the humble but delectable Burbank Russet potato.