This year I am resolved to do even more in Rome. MORE. I always love to do things with Mister, but you know, THE KIDS and SITTERS. I’m trying to get better about grabbing some friends and getting out to do things. MORE, I say!
When I heard about nighttime visits to Castel Sant’ Angelo July through September, I knew I wanted IN. I’ve actually never been inside. We’ve put it off with the kiddos because I’ve heard the tour is nothing but stairs. (This was fairly accurate.)
And such is how I found myself out at 9:00 pm at night hearing about the Castel’s journey from Hadrian’s mausoleum to fortress and prison. We got to unleash our inner Angels and Demons with a walk in the secret tunnel (which is in a wall and NOT underground as I had thought), see the view from the terrace, and tour cells for both VIP prisoners and the less-fortunate ones.
After hearing about the poor souls imprisoned there awaiting execution, I couldn’t help but turn to a friend and ask what her last meal would be.
Probably everything fried, she responded. Wouldn’t be worried about a stomachache.
After I mulled more, I realized that my last meal would probably be pretty Frenchified. I’d love a good steak au poivre. Naturally, with some frites.
But I’d want to start with some oysters. With champagne. And add in a stinky cheese course.
This sort of surprised me. I adore Italian cuisine. If you asked me a few years ago, I would have said it was my favorite. But I guess it isn’t my most favorite favorite.
I would at least finish with gelato. (From Come il Latte if possible. Prisoners can’t be choosers.)
But not before gorging on boiled peanuts. Preferably cold. Very salty.
James thinks my peanut penchant is pretty disgusting (“It is like you are eating cold, mushy beans!”), but I grew up on these. During our week at the beach, I attempted to eat my weight in boiled peanuts. Henry is on Team Peanut which means my progress is somewhat slowed, but he’s a quick study on cracking them open.
Or maybe I’d just do a cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake. With plenty of boiled peanuts.
Like James, do you find boiled peanuts to be beyond gross? What would you do for a last meal? Assuming that the jailers made or found good versions of everything, of course. You don’t have to deal with envisioning what foie gras from the prison chef would look like.