June 1999

PICNICS

A picnic is a wonderful thing, made by putting together a couple of perfectly ordinary things - for example, your lunch and a spot on a sunny lawn. Through some alchemical process, all food - even your same old sandwich - tastes better when eaten outdoors in nice weather. In June, it's a crime against nature not to have at least one picnic.

The basic combination of some good food in a nice spot can be elaborated. Add congenial company, and it's a party, an instant blossoming of well-being and appreciation of life. Add a bottle or two of good picnic wine, and you'll stay all day, sleeping under the trees in the afternoon.

I like picnics of the most casual and spontaneous sort - food you buy on the road and eat in some just-discovered spot. Good bread and cheese, olives, a bottle of fresh, lighthearted wine, and ripe fruit from nearby orchards - you can have a fancier picnic, but you can't have a better one.

I've eaten that picnic many times on travels with my family, on a green slope off a country road somewhere. Finding the right shop or bakery becomes part of the fun, like finding the perfect spot. Just remember to keep a Swiss army knife with a corkscrew in the glove compartment of the car.

Somehow, the more difficult and remote the location, the better that picnic is. I remember the first day's climb on a back-packing trip up Mount Whitney. Along with the dehydrated trail food, my friends and I took one loaf of fresh bread, one wedge of aged Vermont cheddar cheese, and - this was the stroke of genius - a packet of those good, cured Greek olives.

When we were cutting our toothbrushes in half to shave some weight from the packs, the idea of carrying that little tub of olives (it must have weighed half a pound) up the mountainside seemed like the wildest folly. But when we stopped in the sunny afternoon by the rushing, ice-cold river, and dropped our packs, how marvelous that food was! The fresh bread, the cheese, and oh boy, those salty olives. We were singing their praises, we were fighting over them. We ate the sandwich of a lifetime, washed down with the icy water from the river (yes, filtered first), and finished with a luxurious slice of fresh apple - a five-star picnic.

But elegant, planned picnics have their charm too. And when you add good music to the mix, the experience can be sublime. Once a year, we do that here in Ojai, during our music festival. It isn't absolutely required to have a picnic, but the cheapest ticket gets you a place on the lawn, under spreading oaks, and the hour before the evening concert, in the easing of the afternoon heat, is picnic heaven.

It's not unusual to see people setting up folding tables and covering them with fresh linens. Wine chills in frosty buckets, and hampers wait, looking promising. Nearby, other groups will be sprawled on blankets, unwrapping burritos from the nearby (and excellent) take-out shop. Everything works. People eat, drink, and chatter, the blue twilight deepens... then the orchestra comes out onto the stage, and beautiful music fills the night.

All picnic food, simple or fancy, has certain qualities in common. It should be hearty, because we always eat more when we're outside. It must be fairly sturdy, because it has to travel well. It should taste best at room temperature - or, rather, at the outdoor temperature of the chosen spot. And it should not take itself too seriously, because it's a picnic, after all. That last is especially true of wine. Great picnic wines have their own special qualities - they're fresh and lively, delicious and easygoing.

Here is my plan for this year's music festival picnic:

The centerpiece is a big, savory galette, which is a kind of flat, rustic tart made with yeast dough and filled with whatever you like. Mine has caramelized onions, sautéed greens, goat cheese, and kalamata olives, and you'll find the recipe below.

Tossed salads wilt in the heat, and take up too much space, and while potato salads are fine, it's possible to get tired of them - so I'll have a plate of fresh snap peas. I just wash them and pull the strings off, and they're ready to eat. I serve a few trimmed radishes with them, and a dipping sauce if I'm ambitious, for the perfect summer crudité.

Salads made of grilled or roasted vegetables are also ideal for picnics. My current favorite is one I came up with almost by accident, because I had such a bountiful supply of gorgeous beets. I roasted the whole beets with garlic cloves, cut them up, and dressed them with pumpkinseed oil, basil and toasted walnuts. It's a fabulously tasty salad, easy to make, and nothing about it can wilt.

We'll drink a good Vernaccia di San Gimignano, well chilled, or maybe a local wine - one of the excellent Sauvignon Blancs from the Santa Ynez Valley.

For dessert, a simple spongecake, flavored with lemon zest, and sweet, ripe apricots, peaches and nectarines. The fruit bends the rule a little on sturdiness: it must be carried in a basket, protected, but it's worth the care.

Whether or not you have a music festival - whether you're near a beach, a mountain, or just a porch - have a picnic sometime soon.

June 1999 recipe