It is a remote possibility. I haven't murdered anyone (yet) and Britain doesn't have the death penalty. However, if I ever end up on death row, I will be a cheap date. At one time, any - cough! - "foodie" would have demanded a gilt-edged carte of scallops, foie gras and Château Lafite for their final meal (reading the Guardian's Last Bites series, a preference for lobster and champagne persists among certain top chefs). But in those idle moments when I start compiling an exit menu, I increasingly find myself talking about food that while extraordinary is also easily accessible.
It changes daily if not hourly, but, right now, if I had to choose my final feed I would take as my starter the extraordinary tamarind-laced bhel from Neasden's Shayona; followed by a 10 megaton beef-bomb from Brighton burger aces Troll's Pantry, with a portion of chips from Patty Smith's in Leeds. All savoured, rather than washed-down, with a bottle of Nøgne Ø's outstanding IPA. For dessert? A pastel de nata from Norfolk Street Bakery in Cambridge and a flat white from Manchester's North Tea Power. Total cost? Around £22. I would die with staggering flavours lingering in my mind.
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