The last supper conjures up images of Leonardo’s pastel-robed apostles or a death row inmate’s final requests. With the luxury of time and a catalogue of memorable meals, nostalgia and decadence are on the menu for the Observer restaurant critic Jay Rayner. Rayner pores through his recollections of a flaming plate of escargot at a Swiss ski resort to his first alcoholic beverage, as he imagines his meal to end all meals. His book is “My Last Supper.”
Escargot, oysters, salad: The menu for one man’s last meal
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