Triple Sonnet for My Last Meal and My Father

Cathleen says the best sushi in Louisville is Asahi, but

the best roll in Louisville is the Black Widow at Dragon

King’s Daughter. My last meal would have to include

at least one roll, but I’m picky, so I’d probably have

to imagine it myself: perfect green avocado and ripe

mango inside with crunchy cucumber and the smallest bit

of cream cheese, fatty raw salmon on top, topped with

crispy onions and a minimum of two sauces (spicy mayo

and eel, of course.) I’ll need chicken wings on the side,

classic Buffalo, with homemade ranch, skip the celery

because I never eat it anyway, but I’ll keep the carrots.

Then, a perfectly seared, medium rare flat iron steak sliced

thin with finishing salt on top, and a crisp, ice-cold

Diet Coke to wash it down, crispy chicken alfredo with

bites of tender broccoli to brighten it up, and double

the pasta because if I’m dying, I must have at least one

more bite of the perfect macaroni and cheese, creamy

and orange and topped with crispy caramelized cheese,

not bread crumbs this time, and almost any noodle

will do but I’m partial to ditaloni, because who doesn’t

love a noodle whose suffix literally means large? It’s my

last meal, and I’m going big and large, baby. I was raised

right, raised well, and I never ate bad food growing up

because my dad went to culinary school, so he could

whip up food better than anyone: luxurious soups

with homemade stock, so quick he made it look easy,

sumptuous beef and noodles topped with homemade

gremolata, required, wok- cooked salmon so perfectly

tender it’d melt in your mouth, and the best sausage

and gravy any house guests sleeping over would ever have.

Anything my sister and I ever desired for dinner, he

could make, and usually would, because he might grumble

at an outrageous request, but he showed his love best

with acts of service through dinner service. Once, when I

was sick, I couldn’t decide between alfredo with crispy

chicken thighs or a chicken sandwich with all the toppings,

and he surprised me with both. When my sister visits,

she gets sent home with a bounty: containers filled to

the brim with Thai red curry soup and leftovers for her

whole workweek. Everything in my last meal better be

delicious, but it’ll still never compare, because everyone

in my family always knows that dad could’ve made it better.