Eats History: What was Elvis Last meal?

 

Elvis Presley’s last meal was not a fried peanut butter sandwich. It was something much more human.

By 1977, Elvis wasn’t the explosive rock star from the Ed Sullivan stage. He was 42 years old, overweight, deeply medicated, and living a strange, isolated life inside Graceland, the Memphis mansion he rarely left.

According to Ginger Alden, his fiancée who was with him the day he died, Elvis stayed up all night reading in bed. In the early morning hours of August 16, he got up and walked down to the kitchen. He asked for ice cream and cookies—something sweet and comforting. He brought it back upstairs to eat alone. A few hours later, he collapsed in the bathroom and was found unresponsive. He was declared dead later that afternoon.

Some sources say he had spaghetti earlier that day, which was one of his favorite meals, especially when made with meat sauce and garlic bread. Others mention a burger or a fruit smoothie. But the famous fried peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwich—the one that people always associate with him—was not part of his final day.

That sandwich was real though. Elvis discovered it during a visit to Denver in the 1970s and became obsessed with it. He would often request it late at night, and sometimes flew in private jets just to eat at diners that served it. It was so indulgent it became part of his public image—decadent, Southern, over-the-top.

But his last meal was quiet. A bowl of ice cream. Some cookies. Nothing glamorous. No screaming fans. Just the King, alone in the stillness of his upstairs bedroom.

Food always reveals something about a person. For Elvis, it told the story of a man who rose from Mississippi poverty to international fame, who never let go of the foods that felt like home. And in the end, it reflected how far he had drifted from the world that once adored him.

I share stories like this every day. And if you want to explore the real recipes of the past—including some that Elvis actually loved—you can find them at www.eatshistory.com