The Last Meal

Today’s post comes from Steve Grooms.

Uh oh! The warden has just informed you that your last appeal was rejected.

You might have won a stay (or even a pardon) if Hillary had won. But President Ted Cruz filled Scalia’s open chair with Dick Cheney, and there went your chance for any mercy. Pizzle rot! You should have voted Democratic.

But there is an upside to this. You do get to choose your last meal. That’s something to look forward to, right?

What will this meal be? Some options are not open. You don’t get to pick that famous Chinese dish, 100 year old egg, starting with an egg laid this week. You’ve gotta choose something that will take a reasonable time to prepare. But it is nice that the warden doesn’t insist you pick a fast food dish. Whew!

My first choice for a last meal is something our family absolutely adored. Sad to say, it is no longer available. Our favorite meal for years was takeout from Caravan Serai, the first Afghani restaurant in the United States. Nancy Kayhoum was the owner and main cook in the 1980s and 1990s. About once a week we ordered her incredible combination appetizer (the Marco Polo) and then each family member had a favorite standard dish. Chicken kabobs for the grownups, gyros for the kid. It was heaven. When we opened the takeout bags, our home reeked of delicious herbs and spices for hours. But Nancy closed her restaurant decades ago, so that’s that.

It surprises (and mildly embarrasses) me that my next choice of last meal is something quite common. It was a meal I cooked myself, and once again it was something we had regularly. But it was so satisfying that it would be better than any other last meal I can think of. When my erstwife left the US to live in Europe, she would occasionally make business visits back home. This was the meal she asked me to serve her each time she was a house guest. It impressed me that a woman accustomed to eating in famous four-star restaurants all over Europe dreamed of enjoying again something we could cook at home.

What was that meal? It featured grilled round steak from Lunds, steamed broccoli drenched in a homemade Hollandaise sauce and oven-baked Tater Tots. The steak was Lunds’ dry-aged round steak, but for my last meal I would upgrade to filet mignon. And we should not forget one or two of those French baguettes from the Lunds bakery. Since we are not cutting corners here, we can add butter from the Hope Creamery. And to wash it down, let’s have pinot noir from Oregon.

It isn’t the meal my cardiologist would endorse. We have been told we shouldn’t eat too
much meat, and I don’t think Tater Tots make anybody’s list of health food. But hey, that’s what is so good about a last meal. You can chow down like there is no tomorrow!

We didn’t use to have desert with that meal, but this is a special occasion, so we’ll make an exception. While I remember some incredible deserts we ate while traveling (crème brulee in a London restaurant comes to mind) my choice for a last meal would again be prosaic. Give me a slice of pecan pie, with a generous scoop cinnamon ice cream on the side.

Oh, my, that was good. Hey warden, could I have seconds?

What would you choose for your very last meal?

91 thoughts on “The Last Meal”

  1. A top favorite meal of mine is Dim Sum which I would want for my last meal if a top of the line Chinese chef could be found to prepare this meal. Dumplings, spring rolls, Chinese vegetables, and many other tasty small dishes. I have been to places serving Dim Sum which did not serve a very good selection of dishes. However, one of the best meals I ever had was at a placed that served an amazing selection of wonderful small dishes.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I have developed a very annoying allergy to cumin. I love Indian and Mexican food, and this allergy is pretty disturbing. It results in sores in my mouth and, now, swollen lips and tongue and puffy eyes. I suppose my last meal would be an Indian feast with as much cumin as I could get. Given how the allergy has progressed over the past couple of months, such a meal probably would cause my demise. I hope I am not facing a future of bland Norwegian rommegrot.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. That’s a really hard choice! At the moment I’d go for orange mock duck, three cup tofu, and vegetarian dumplings from Evergreen, with mango sticky rice for dessert (though the menus from Pizza Luce, the Peninsula, India House, and even the Seward Café all have their allure). My very last taste before getting the chop would, of course, be a well-made non-dairy cappuchino.

    Funny, sometimes I wonder what the last thing I taste, hear, read, see, etc. will be. In a way it reminds me of the comic strips–Lynda Barry, maybe?–in which Satan tells a person the embarrassing way they’re scheduled to die and offers to make a deal for a less humiliating alternative. Will I go out with Bach or personal favorite Loreena McKennit in my ears, or will it be some awful muzak from the nursing home speakers? Will a volume of poetry or philosophy drop from my hand, or will it be a slapdash “cozy” mystery from the candy-striper’s cart, because that was the only choice besides romances?

    Clearly, I don’t have any plans currently for being executed…

    Liked by 8 people

  4. I actually read this earlier this morning and have been torturing myself ever since with what I would choose… so many foods, so little time.

    Several years ago I had a lunch at a winery outside of Rome that was set up specifically for my little group. It was lavish with all kinds of roasted vegetables, cheeses, and other yummy bits including the best bruschetta that I’ve ever had (two kinds, one with just fresh olive oil and one with olive oil and garlic), followed by a tiramisu that has never been equaled. This is the meal I want.

    My mouth is watering now.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Too many food choices to consider. but a leg of lamb would be in there somewhere. More important to me is the last wines. I’d have a multi-course meal, probably prepared by a Michelin-starred chef (from France is fine, but anyone of that caliber will do). To start, I’d drink the best recent vintage of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame Champagne. The lamb course would probably feature a 1982 Bordeaux from one of the top 5 producers such as Latour, Lafitte Rothschild, or Petrus.

    The roast chicken and/or grilled salmon course would feature the best recent vintage of Domaine Serene Pinot Noir (an Oregon classic, Steve, if you’re unfamiliar with them. As good or better than the best French Burgundies). I’d need an excuse to drink a great zinfandel, so perhaps a hearty cheese course could be the perfect foil for the best recent vintage of Javalina Leap Cellars’ Reserve zinfandel (the best I’ve ever tasted– from Arizona of all places!).

    I’d need to drink one last great German Riesling or other white before I die, so perhaps with an appropriate dessert, I’d pair a great Beerenauslese or Trockenbeerenauslese–maybe with an apple tart.

    For cigars, leather chairs and the dark paneled library well after dinner has been digested, I’d certainly require an old vintage port. Perhaps something from around the year of my birth, 1956, that is the best of vintage. It would put a poignant touch to my last day.

    Chris in Owatonna

    Liked by 5 people

    1. I knew you would do the wine part of the meal with class. In 1965 I brought a bottle of French burgundy to a special meal. Believe it or not, I remember the taste of that wine perfectly to this date. It was the best wine I’ve ever had. But maybe that isn’t as odd as it sounds at first. I paid $6 for that wine. The inflation calculator tells me that would be a $45 bottle of wine today, which would probably be memorably good.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. I believe it. Great wines have a way of sticking in my head too. Your wine may cost more today because good-great wine has increased in price faster than general inflation. Could be closer to $100 today.

        And I firmly believe that we don’t necessarily get all the best wine France has to offer. One of the great French wines I’ve ever had cost I think less than $20 back in 1997, and perhaps only about $8. because that number sticks in my head.

        Not to be forgotten, many times a wine tastes great because the situation is highly pleasurable. Great food, good setting, special occasion, drinking the wine with that special someone. Nevertheless, wine is about pleasure, no matter if that pleasure comes from the glass or from everything outside the glass.

        Chris

        Liked by 2 people

        1. One of the things that I remember about that wine was that it seemed to disappear in my mouth. I had no experience of their being a liquid in my mouth. I suppose there is a technical name for that. It was a “big” wine in terms of packing a heckuva lot of taste. It wasn’t slippery. It just disappeared.

          Like

    2. I would need help from you, Chris, on selecting a wine. I am familiar with some good lower priced wines. I known very little about really excellent wines that are very expensive and I would want one of those. That Pinot Noir from Oregon sound like one that might work for me.

      Like

      1. Hi Jim,

        Don’t be fooled by price. Many times, mediocre wines are way overpriced. Some of the best wines I’ve ever tasted are well under $50, many under $20. But most of the “near perfect” wines will be expensive if only because of high manual labor costs like hand-picking grapes, and intentionally low yields to increase intensity and concentration of flavors.

        Domaine Serene used to be a bargain of bargains at about $20 compared with top-ranked Burgundies costing well over $100, some closer to $500. Now I think the winery prices their best Pinots around $75-$85.

        Chris in O-town

        Like

  6. The Harbor View seems to have taken coq au vin off the menu, which saddens me greatly. It was served with those little red potatoes, carrots, and usually steamed broccoli. French bread on the table while waiting for the main course to arrive. For the wine I’d ask for Marietta Old Vine Red. And two desserts, also Harbor View specialties – half a slice of the bittersweet chocolate torte and half a slice of the chocolate buttercream pie. And could I have one more cup of coffee with that? With a little whipping cream in it, please.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Sounds yummy, Linda. The best meal I ever cooked (and I only did this one time) was a Belgian chicken stew dish that featured chicken and vegetables braised in dark beer. I mention this because recipes for this are all over the internet, and I think you’d love this if you ever tried it.

      Like

  7. Last meal…rather pathetic that I have such trouble thinking of even one course!
    I fancy myself a great cook….tweaking recipes from all over the globe ‘tho only one comes to mind. A favorite for entertaining was chicken & pea pod salad served in a pastry shell: chunks of chicken (boiled in a curry chicken stock), sliced water chestnuts, green onion, squeeze of lime, fresh ginger, curry powder & sour cream. The chicken is centered in the crisp pastry bowl atop a crown of pea pods & garnished with fresh cilantro…elegant. It is wonderful summer meal served with white wine and finished with fresh raspberries & almond cream. (layered in a martini glass). And for this Scandinavian coffee is a must to complete the meal.
    But…that isn’t something prepared ‘for’ me.
    My memories send me back to Tanzania in the late 60’s dining in a humble Moshi hotel…the foot of Mt. Kilimanjaro. The meal was a magnificant curried chicken….oh dear…a repeat theme? I’m not sure if it was the entire experience or the actual meal. If it was as delicious as I remember…that would be my last meal…preferably served at the same location.

    Liked by 5 people

  8. Three days ago I had breakfast with my daughter and her family. I asked her to choose the most special meal she could think of. Her first choice didn’t surprise me: it Caravan Serai takeout. Then she decided that her second choice would be grilled steak, broccoli with Hollandaise sauce and Tater Tots. She and I agree on many things, you see.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. And if you were at Jim & Cathy’s on Sunday and think that you’ve already voted… guess again. If anybody had a preference, I didn’t capture it!

      Like

    2. Since Jacque is the only one who has expressed a preference at this time (she can’t come on the 10th) but would love to get into the BBC again, I think it makes sense to settle on the 17th before people schedule things for that day.

      Like

  9. There will be time, there will be time
    To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
    There will be time to murder and create,
    And time for all the works and days of hands
    That lift and drop a question on your plate;
    Time for you and time for me,
    And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
    And for a hundred visions and revisions,
    Before the taking of a toast and tea.

    Liked by 3 people

  10. Fun topic, Steve (well, sort of 🙂 ).
    I’ve been trying all morning to remember what I had at one of the banquets we had in western France last spring… can recall no detail, which isn’t surprising considering the amount of wine with the meal.
    So I’m going with my grandma’s fish (salt cod, not lutefisk) and her homemade lefse, one of Husband’s finely chopped salads, wine would be a Sterling Cabernet (find it at Trader Joe’s, usually out of my price range). Before the meal, like the French, some Creme de Cassis (blackberry cordial). Still thinking about dessert, for now let’s say a home made tiramisu.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Okay, I’m going to make sure my last meal happens sometime when there are some fresh fruits and vegetables so I can have something really fresh. First thing that comes to mind would be fresh (and local! not from Mexico!) Asparagus, roasted with olive oil in a hot oven until well-browned and the tips are crisp. Sprinkle with kosher salt. (Alternative: pizza made with my crust recipe with fresh asparagus, chives, a bit of ham, and smoked gouda cheese.)

    Morel mushrooms sauteed in lots of butter.

    Corn on the cob picked minutes right before the water comes to a boil.

    If it’s in the fall, winter squash risotto with fried sage leaves. I’m partial to Kuri squash.

    A good steak would not be turned down.

    I’ll go with more than one dessert. I made two desserts last summer that “are to die for,” so what better to have as part of my last meal? The first one was based loosely on tiramisu: layers of Rhubarb-Black Currant Sauce (fruit cooked until fruit broken down, sweetened to taste, vanilla and black currant liqueur added), ladyfingers, and a mascarpone filling (mascarpone, plain greek yogurt, vanilla, sugar and black currant liqueur to taste). The other one was a simple rustic tart with some almond meal in the crust and filled with red currants, sour cherries, and raspberries.

    Liked by 3 people

  12. I’m gonna go with a pile of reeeeeaaaaalllllly good cheese – at least five kinds. Some good baguette to have with it. Fresh raspberries, some figs. Maybe a bit of sliced pear to complement some of the cheeses. A bar single-origin 90% dark chocolate. A slice of my mother’s rhubarb cake with extra cinnamon and some high quality vanilla ice cream. A tasty red wine and a bit of good coffee to go with the cake. And a Twinkie. Because if I’m gonna die, I may as well have one last taste of my childhood Americana.

    Liked by 2 people

  13. Does any meal, no matter how exotic or refined, mean anything at all if the circumstances aren’t right? I’ve had fancy meals on somebody else’s expense account and really competent meals in memorable settings and the ones I remember are the ones I shared with Robin and/ or friends. I don’t remember any of the fancy meals.
    In the scenario of this query, who cares what the meal is?

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Maybe this is a mass execution of baboons and we are all eating our last meals together. That would make it more enjoyable. (well, maybe not exactly enjoyable but less horrible).

      Liked by 3 people

  14. i know that if i were facing my last meal it would ruin my appetite. if i knew this was it there would be no desire at all to eat, my thoughts would ace me out of the pleasure/
    if you are asking for my favorite meal i had it last night. my family had me cook up a pasta dish for me of gluten free pasta and them a regular pasta dish and then just before we served it up they sprung the stone crab on me. geeze i love that stuff. i still had my pasta but for desert i had stone crab. if it were a celebratory meal i would add a tiramisu to the end and a bowl of melted butter for an accouterment and maybe some kettle chips

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Travel book recommendation for VS and others: Bryson’s new book. The road to Little Dribbling. Full of fun rants. He says he has a little padded room in his brain where he says all the things he wants to say out loud to rude people.

    Liked by 2 people

  16. A dozen years ago or so, my wife, my son, and I had a high-priced meal at the Schumacher Hotel (Right Name?) in New Prague. Then a highly-praised dining experience. We walked in and out of the blue decided to eat there. It was a big bucks multi-course elegant meal that took a couple hours to eat. I was reminded of this about Bill’s wise comment above, that memorable meals are seldom the fancy ones, which has been true for me except that meal, that it is the company that matters. I cannot remember exact foods we had (other two would, I bet) but ti was worth all the many pennies for the experience and time we shared. I can think of many other memorable meals with our small children, all having to do with picnics, camping, outdoor moments.
    So may I suggest that question: what is a memorable dining/eating/meal moment?

    Like

  17. In light of Clyde’s comment just above, how about this new question (which some have already answered, I suppose):

    Describe your most memorable meal – the occasion, the people there, the surroundings – and maybe the food, if you remember it.

    Like

    1. I agree. “The most” is too absolute, too binary. As difficult to pin down as a favorite color or a favorite song. It’s enough to designate “a memorable meal”.

      Liked by 1 person

  18. One that comes to mind is my folks’ 50th Anniversary dinner, August of 1996. They planned a great road trip that ended at my sister’s place in Berkeley, CA. We four (Husband, son Joel, nephew Vin, and I) flew out, and we and my folks got to house sit in the Berkeley hills. One night we had a fabulous dinner at Skates Restaurant on the Berkeley marina. (I only know the name because I came upon my mom’s journal the other day.) I probably had seafood of some kind.

    When we were leaving, a huge full moon was coming up over the city. I’ll never forget it. Then we went back to “our” house and watched all the old home movies from the 50s.

    Liked by 3 people

  19. One of my most memorable meals was the banquet we had at our Lake Superior cabin to celebrate my 50th birthday. Friends from Willmar visited us that night. Nancy was running a gourmet catering business at the time. She was an astonishing cook. Because she couldn’t count on cooking at her high level in a stranger’s kitchen she did all the food prep at home, bringing her extravagant meal up north in a series of ice chests.

    I don’t recall all the dishes we had. It was about a five-course meal. But the centerpiece was a duck terrine. The whole meal was a bit of heaven that featured dear friends and fabulous food washed down with expensive wine. We were mopping up the last crumbs of birthday cake when I heard a noise. I went to the door. Our guests heard me howling into the darkness, hurling curses I won’t repeat here. They thought I was drunk.

    I wasn’t. The curses were for a large black bear that was lifting the lids on Nancy’s coolers, shopping for a meal. The bear grabbed the duck terrine and stood up on its back legs to confront me before walking off into the brush, the terrine in its mouth. I really punished that bear with naughty words, but I kept inside the cabin back door.

    Perfect meal. Perfect guests. Ludicrous conclusion to a perfect evening.

    Liked by 2 people

  20. I asked the question and am now overwhelmed by the number of them I remember. One: every year Sandy and I used to do a Christmas open house buffet for the members of the church I served in Castle Danger.. We would have about 60-70 people over a 2.5 hour period, sometimes 50 or more people at once in our 1400 Sq Ft. House on the North Shore. The people in the church were such unassuming folks, almost all had very interesting life stories. Some were in their 80’s and 90’s. A fun community moment. Sandy and I did almost all the food. We had an open kitchen, dining room, living room, which worked well.

    Liked by 3 people

  21. Toward the end of our recent trip to Wales, we had booked ourselves for three nights into a B&B called “The Old Rectory” in the village of Llangattock-Lingoed. It’s near the town of Abergavenny, which is considered a foodie town for the number and quality of restaurants there. We imagined we might try out a restaurant or two there in the evening. Llangattock-Lingoed is right on the Offa’s Dike path along the Welsh border, hiking distance to three “marcher” castles, a short drive to the ruins of Llanthony Priory and a little longer drive to the antiquarian book mecca of Hay-on-Wye.
    At this point in our trip we had learned to modify our ambitions. At that latitude in early November it got dark by 5:30. Everything took much longer to get to than we expected because of the roads, many of which were single track and unmarked. Llangattock-Lingoed was at the end of a single track two mile long stretch of road. We made it a point to be back at The Old Rectory before dark. No trips to Abergavenny for dinner.
    Fortunately in Llangattock-Lingoed, there is an Inn/pub/restaurant called The Hunter’s Moon. The original structure of the place dates to the thirteenth century. It’s a family-run operation with three generations at work. One walks through the pub portion in front, filled with very jolly locals, more than you would expect in such a small and remote village, to get to the quieter dining area in back. As you would expect in such a venerable structure, the ceilings are rather low. There is a fireplace between the pub and the dining area, open on either side.
    The menu was surprisingly sophisticated; one night I had duck breast. It was perfectly prepared and served arranged in slices on a bed of excellent roasted vegetables. Another night I had lamb chops. The service was relaxed and informal, but I hate over-attentive service and we had nowhere else to be anyway. Mostly we just sipped our wine, an unassuming but adequate bottle, talked about our day, listened to the conversations in the pub next door and for a while chatted with Granny Beryl, the oldest of the three generations of owners. It was so completely pleasant that I had no regrets at all about being sequestered in the village after nightfall. It was a perfect way to end our days there.

    Liked by 5 people

    1. The only time I was in Wales we drove in without prior research. We landed in a depressed region that formerly produced coal. The very last thing the locals expected was tourists. They were amused and amazed to see us, asking over and over if we had really meant to come.

      I remember food far less elegant than Bill describes. But the ceilings of the old inn were low, the stairs deeply dished from centuries of use, the people were merry and unspoiled by tourist money. At night we could hear incredible choral singing from a large building up the road.

      Liked by 2 people

  22. I’ve had my share of memorable meals; some were memorable because of the company, some because of the setting, and others because of the food or a combination of all three. There have also been some that were memorable because of how utterly miserable the whole experience was. My parents’ visit during the month prior to husband’s and my wedding provided several memorable experiences that fall in the latter category.

    Much to my surprise, my parents had accepted the invitation to attend our wedding. Unfortunately, they also decided that in order to get their money’s worth for the cost of the plane ticket, they needed to come a month early. Husband had never met them, and was very upbeat and optimistic about the visit; I had severe misgivings about the idea, but what could I do? So we decided to try make the best of it.

    For their first meal in our home, we decided to have a back-yard BBQ. It was the end of July, and a lovely warm summer evening, perfect for dining outside. How could you possibly go wrong with BBQed ribs, potato salad, and fresh corn on the cob? I have no recollection of what we had for dessert.

    Husband was not (still isn’t!) an experienced griller. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he doesn’t understand the concepts of patience, moderate heat, or indirect heat, with him it’s an all-or-nothing proposition. In a matter of minutes he had converted perfectly fine ribs into a flaming, charred mess. Unbeknownst to me, both of my parents had virtually no teeth of their own left, and the fresh corn on the cob was not an ideal choice considering their dentures. Dad declared that corn was pig food, and American beer was fox piss. My home, which I had purchased a few months earlier without any financial assistance from them, he declared a hovel; absolutely nothing was to his liking. Mom had not been sober when they got off the plane, and she remained that way the entire time they were here. We were off to a great start, and we only had 29 more days to go!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I realized reasonably early in life, that memorable events are often moments that you don’t really appreciate in the moment. I remember distinctly – in the midst of several crises – thinking, this will be a good story at some time in the future. I guess you cling to whatever it is that will keep you afloat when misfortune strikes. The ability to see the humor in a situation that has gotten completely out of control is priceless.

        Liked by 2 people

  23. So many picnics with the kids in NE MN, many just impromptu. Six in Split Rock Park that I remember.
    1) In January parked on the old stub of highway near the river eating in a VW bus I fitted to serve as a camper with a table in the middle.
    2) At the split in Split Rock River at about zero degrees after walking the mile up the ice carrying a packed lunch.
    3) On the trail near the mouth of the river on a spring day as the leaves were opening.
    4) A packed lunch we carried to the wonderful fireplace high on a rock hill overlooking the lighthouse.
    5) In the park shelter one winter day when the kids were teenagers, all of us reading by the fire as we ate.
    6) When the kids were both home from college for summer at a table on the rocks beyond the shelter. We sat and talked for hours about life on a wonderful pre-buggy June day.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Wonderful memories, Clyde. Evokes this image for me: My sister, several friends, and I, sitting on a blanket on the beach. Our shoulders draped in colorful towels – all shivering – but grinning from ear to ear. We’re all under eight years of age, have wet hair, purple lips and pale goose-bumpy skin, from spending too much time in the water. Now we’re having our sandwiches brought from home along with the home-made juice in hinged-top bottles. Not an adult in sight, and all was right with the world. Nothing better than food eaten al fresco.

      Liked by 4 people

    1. Your list reminds me of some packed-picnic meal when we went to the Monterey Aquarium – a different California trip, 1989, but our same four of us plus my sister. Knew we would be hours in the aquarium, were hungry and there were no picnic tables in sight, so we just spread a blanket on the sidewalk in front of our parking space and ate our sandwiches. Was just fine, and we felt very bohemian.

      Like

      1. I remember a California trip when I was little, maybe five or six, when we stopped at Fisherman’s Wharf. Someone was selling crusty French bread and my parents bought some. Up until then the only bread I’d ever had was plain white sandwich bread. I remember how the powerful smell of fish permeated everything on the wharf, and how hungry I was, and how I thought that fishy-tasting bread was the best food I’d ever had.

        Like

  24. People’s minds must work differently. I feel really sad for people who have not retained in the recesses of their brains vivid pictures of pleasurable moments. As you all know, I have plenty of not so pleasant memories, but I’m blessed with an even larger number of pleasurable ones. I sometimes wonder what that is that allows me to spend so much more time on the moments that gave me immense joy, and skip fairly lightly over the ones that are too painful to dwell on. I’m sure the psychologists in the group have their theories, and have seen this dynamic at work lots of time.

    Liked by 1 person

  25. Years ago when Bandana Square first opened there was a place called Polly’s Slow Food Restaurant that I recall fondly. My sister and I went there with my mother and some of her family, maybe in about 1984 or ’85. The food was simple, but well prepared. I remember that they had wonderful English muffins. I started toasting English muffins for breakfast after having them at Polly’s. You have to be careful with them, though – they have to be crisp, but you can’t dry them out too much in the toaster. Polly’s were perfect.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s