You haven’t read Heinlein’s Number of the Beast?
The Burroughs-Libby continua device allows teleportation, time travel, and transit between universes. And even without using hte time-travel features, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe is almost certain to exist on a different time axis than our world, so no time spent there would be of consequence in this world.
Now you’re mixing your fictions. You’re just determined to have me die. 
Elixier Vitae.
Apparently you’ve been spared my earlier Burroughs-Libby threads. The gods must be angry with you to have removed their protection. :dubious:
Fugu. Maybe some larks’ tongues in honey.
When I was a teen ager, we lived for a time in Las Vegas (Nevada), and there was a little Italian pizza place near us called (something like) Carboni’s. They made a New York style thin crust pizza (square cut) that was, IMHO, to die for. I’ve eaten some good pizza since then (some at iconic New York pizzerias), but to this day that was still the best pizza I’ve ever eaten.
The place is long gone, from what I understand (it was a family owned restaurant and I think when the old guy who ran it died or retired it just went away), but if I were on death row with one meal left to me, and I could have whatever food I wanted magically whisked to me, that’s what I want…a large sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese Carboni’s pizza and a large pitcher of ice cold Guinness…
-XT
I’m going to be fatalistic about my impending death, seeing as how I’ve probably done something terrible, but great, to deserve it. (I’m not unfairly imprisoned, I take it?)
Fugu for starters, please. Cut as close to the liver as possible. Now’s the time to play with your food, especially if the game is Russian Roulette.
I’ve always been bad about choosing main courses; besides, I’m pescovegetarian, vegetarian main dishes are a bit hopeless, and fish courses have a tendency to translate as salmon. Let’s skip that.
Dessert will be my grandmother’s rhubarb cake, the recipe of which is now lost forever. Reckon it’ll be a nice booster for the finish:
A pot of Klatchian coffee with a chaser of 100-year-old Napoleon, and the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. I may be about to die, but I’m damned if I’ll walk the green mile without having achieved enlightenment as to the true nature of the universe.
Redwall feast. But only if I can be changed to a suitable Redwall critter for the purpose–preferably a hare. If you’re going to go out, you may as well go out big.
If that’s not an option, I think I’d have to pay a visit to Valabar’s in Adrilankha, from the Vlad Taltos books. I’d have whatever they recommended, with the finest Fenarian brandy and klava after.
Hasenpfeffer with cartoon wabbit stewed in Shotz beer.
Half a bottle of Chavez Regal as an appetizer, one of those yard-long lobsters as mentioned above Thermador style, a large bottle of white wine, and half a bottle of Creme De Minth for dessert.
I’d be sound asleep when they finally found a vein to stick! 
A bit of the water of the Fountain of Youth. Might not save me from the execution, but if they’re willing to kill a kid, I’m well shut of them.
Ooh, is it too late to request Spice coffee (with Spice cakes on the side) after my dessert?
See, I was going to ask for one whole roasted sandworm…
Good idea, but a little too complicated. I’ll just have a ham sandwich.
That was made by the person who will rescue me from my execution in this universe, and who will ensure that by midnight tonight I’m free to go about my business with no future fallout from my entanglement with them, the justice system, the possible victims (direct or indirect) of my crimes, or Skald Catering, Inc., and who will interpret any ambiguity or oversights in this request in a manner favorable to me.
Hold the mayo.
Ah ha ha–I actually made bagna cauda myself after watching the show. Tasty! (and easy)
I choose the cake from Alice in Wonderland. Either I grow into a rampaging giant, or the warden grows and cracks open the room, giving me a chance to escape.
Aw, man. I was gonna say ambrosia, too.
Hey, if you’re able to get me fictional food, can I get some of those ultra-stupid fictional prison guards as well?
-M,I,S!, inveterate smart-alec and loophole-abuser
Time for a bit of cannibalism? Hook me up with the pre-pubescent mother of the judge who convicted me.
The marrow from the bones of my victim, prepared like this. Because the only time I would kill someone is if I had a damn good reason to, and it’d be the kind of victim where most people would agree that they just plain needed killing. Although I suppose if it were justifiable homicide, then I wouldn’t be on death row, would I?
In which case, I will gladly take the marrow from the bones of the attorney that put me behind bars in the first place.
Aged phoenix, extremely well done. Don’t you dare give me an undercooked fledgling bird.
Chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy with green beans and corn from Babe’s and then for dessert I want one of everything from Honeydukes.