I'm hearing numerous groans as summer temperatures turn up the furnace. Some of those groans are mine. There are also mild pleadings in the air for autumnal relief. Sign me up!
My secret weapon to beat the heat is a picnic! Even in its simplest forms, a picnic is satisfying and replete with delicious details. It can be as basic as Kentucky Fried Chicken at a crowded open air concert, and it still refreshes the soul and spirit.
I tend to love picnics with embellishment. I suppose it's my theater background, but I think of it as staging a scene and I'm the leading lady. The set is romantic and rich with musical scores that easily play in my imagination and...
Okay, I'm already there, so let's look at some easy steps toward the perfect picnic. You can always elaborate on this theme. And to really inspire you, I'm concluding with a poem called Picnic Boat, by Carl Sandberg.
THE PERFECT PICNIC
- One picnic blanket no smaller than 6 square feet. Choose the traditional red and white gingham checks or something vintage or playful.
- Picnic basket or hamper. It's worth investing in something that is beautifully handcrafted.
- Two wine glasses– not antiques or plastic.
- Two linen napkins either in white or something to match the blanket or picnic setting.
- Optional: a mini vase of fresh flowers and a votive candle.
- Assess whether you need matches or a corkscrew.
- A chilled bottle of your favorite beverage and ice to keep it cold. I personally don't drink wine and spirits, but I've found that sparkling mineral waters with a hint of fruit juice make a nice pairing with cheese.
- Three fine cheeses: one sharp, one creamy and one blue.
- A fresh-baked baguette.
- Luscious grapes that look like you picked them yourself.
- A cutting board and implements to slice the cheese and baguette. A quality cheese slicer is bliss!
- Someone special to share your picnic with!
Picnic Boat - By Carl Sandburg
Sunday night and the park policemen tell each other it is dark as a stack of black cats on Lake Michigan.
A big picnic boat comes home to Chicago from the peach farms of Saugatuck.
Hundreds of electric bulbs break the night’s darkness, a flock of red and yellow birds with wings at a standstill.
Running along the deck railings are festoons and leaping in curves are loops of light from prow and stern to the tall smokestacks.
Over the hoarse crunch of waves at my pier comes a hoarse answer in the rhythmic oompa of the brasses.
A big picnic boat comes home to Chicago from the peach farms of Saugatuck.
Hundreds of electric bulbs break the night’s darkness, a flock of red and yellow birds with wings at a standstill.
Running along the deck railings are festoons and leaping in curves are loops of light from prow and stern to the tall smokestacks.
Over the hoarse crunch of waves at my pier comes a hoarse answer in the rhythmic oompa of the brasses.
