Gastronomy before gas?

Scott Peterson, charged with murdering his pregnant wife, might be a bit discerning. He and his late wife, Laci, did own and run a restaurant in San Luis Obispo before they moved to Modesto.

Seti Christopher Scanlan professed his love of Hawaiian food to police interviewers after he surrendered. Before copping to a crime spree that included the murder of a Burlingame bank manager, Scanlan also spoke lovingly of freshwater eel and mayonnaise. Something tells me he hasn't had much of either during his time in the San Mateo County Jail. It may be on his wish list if the jury opts for death rather than life in prison without parole.

Usually a person doesn't get the chance to handpick out their last gourmet indulgences, much as they can't choose what clothes to die in or exactly where. Maybe that is why certain menus, like those recovered from the doomed Titanic, become such collector's items.

Of course, after decades on Death Row chugging Pruno - prison wine made of fermented fruit, bread and ketchup - and eating the same bologna sandwiches weekly, the condemned would likely embrace anything new to eat.

The state of Texas Web site used to actually list the requested last meals of every prisoner put to death since 1982. The section was pulled in December 2003 because some believed it to be tacky even though the information is public record. Before it went, it tallied that cheeseburgers were the most requested meal, followed by fried chicken and breakfast items. Nearly one-third wanted French fries. Many also seemed to ask for cigarettes although tobacco and alcohol are banned - they are bad for your health after all.

All of which goes to show you, much like the old adage that people on their death beds won't wish they spent more time working, they certainly aren't going to wish they downed more low-carb beer or Snackwell's cookies. In a way it is no different than contestants on Survivor-style reality shows; people eating grub worms for a month on an island and inmates probably both dream of chocolate fudge, of greasy hash browns, of a strong cup of coffee.

Food is a comfort which is probably why a last meal is so telling; it may be picked out of nostalgia or just the desire for a really good steak or a hearty soup.

The last meal of a condemned inmate is even more fascinating than the menus regular folks hypothetically pick because it is that person's last chance to have a choice. They can no longer select whether to live or die, though some will argue they made that choice by committing a heinous crime. They can, though, ask for six strawberries, a slab of bacon, a jar of dill pickles, a milkshake, a candy bar or whatever else they want their last taste of life to be.

I posed the question to a handful of people; some looked at me like I was crazy while others had quite specific answers. One opted for asparagus, spicy foods and anything else likely to make his death rather, um, odoriferous. Another chose salmon with lemon caper sauce that he made himself. A third had a laundry list: prawn cocktail with extra spicy sauce; chicken parmesan; minestrone, lots of garlic bread; a pan of brownies and a bottle of zinfandel (obviously she didn't know that the Department of Corrections is worried about cirrhosis and alcoholism).

The best, though, was offered by another without any pause or thought. An endless buffet, he said, and "they can't kill me until I'm done eating and I'll be sure that I'm never done."

Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Monday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 104. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.