The Chair

Deciding what to have for dinner always used to be difficult and today I felt that struggle once more. I was fancying something indulgent and something greasy with a large glass of wine to wash it down, and then something really rich for desert. Should I go for chicken? My favourite part has always been dissecting the bird. A real man knows how to strip and gut his prey. I don’t like using a knife though, it’s better to feel the squelch with bare hands I find; a knife is good to start but to feel the intestines being ripped from her carcass…. Yes, chicken will do nicely.
But, then again, the dinner is ruined if you don’t get the gravy right. I’ll know if he’s forgotten any ingredients when I taste it. If the rusty tang and the congealed texture that I crave are not there, I will be bitterly disappointed.
When it comes to dessert, there’s nothing I like better than shattering the hard caramel of a Crème brûlée. But first comes the joy of preparing it, scattering the sugar on the soft, gelatinous insides, to then transform it by the scorching blue flame that traces its face. You have to be careful; if you get too excited it will ruin the masterpiece.
Chianti is my wine of choice as I crave the subtle aromas of tobacco and leather that it possesses. When it hits the back of the throat you can feel the slight burn of the spicy flavour, and then the path the wine takes through your body. It gave you a feeling that nothing else could and it made me feel free for the very last time.
This was the perfect meal for my last mile.

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