Death Row Paella

If I ever really go bonkers and, say, blow up a government building or gun down an ex-president, I know exactly what I’ll request for my last meal: paella. More specifically, my paella, an interpretation of such depth and sublimity I’d have to insist on cooking it myself. 

“Sorry, guys,” I would tell my guards. “That’s non-negotiable.”

Once I regained consciousness, I’d crawl over to my desk and write down this recipe, with the modifications noted below. Then I would give it to the guards and make them promise to at least try for al dente. Just try.

Paella Mods

Mod 1—The original says to combine the meat and the rice on the plate, but that’s insane. Like, criminally insane. All cultured people agree that you combine the two in a pan and finish in the oven at 425º. The rice forms a deep, savory crust, and you can scoop it out with a spatula and serve it crusty side up. Mmmm mmm! Would that I had more than two lips to smack. 

Mod 2—I’d tell the guards to use turmeric instead of the traditional saffron, because if I asked the warden for a $30 jar of saffron he’d laugh in my face with his horrible coffee breath and spoil the whole mood.

Mod 3—I’d add a little extra rice, to keep my energy up, so I could go to the chair with a little flair.

Mod 4—Also, I’d thaw out some frozen peas and serve them on the side. They make a great contrast with the heat and the texture of the paella. Literally, to die for.

And that’s it. That’s my Death Row Paella. A meal fit for a king, in a dungeon, just before they put his head on a pike. I might also ask my jailers for a nice grassy chardonnay and a cannabis cookie for desert, but hey. At that point you take what you get.