Here we are, spring having sprung, and most of us are stuck in the house. It just feels so wrong. Don’t misinterpret; I’m super proud of your social distancing! But if you can manage to keep 6 feet away from others, I say there’s never been a better time to learn How to Pack a Picnic Basket and get in a meal al fresco.
Even if you’re not in the world’s greatest city (that would be New York, and hoo, boy, do not try to argue with me on that one), surely there’s a grassy spot somewhere nearby where you can spread out a blanket and enjoy a meal and a cocktail en plein air. So this week, let’s take a moment to imagine that we’re not all stowed comfortably away in our houses for the foreseeable future and head out for a picnic. Even if "out" just means "into the alley next to the tiny rowhouse where we are doing our level best not to drive our poor, patient husband insane."
First things first: You need a headcount. Are you packing for yourself? Or bringing the whole household along? (You better not be inviting others…!)
For the purposes of this post, we’ll anticipate a picnic of two (my current household size), and you can adjust your portions up or down accordingly. The foundation of any picnic is its basket, so start simple and choose a vessel. If you have one of those adorable pre-packed picnic baskets with plastic wine goblets and a picture-perfect checkered blanket stowed neatly inside, by all means, use it – but you’re probably not the intended audience of this post. (Shout-out to Mal and Nan, who hooked The Little House up with such finery.) For those without benefit of fancy carrying containers, an old-fashioned backpack is a surprisingly good choice, as it’s easier to carry when laden with a 3L sack of wine slushies (the best part of this post, which I am getting to shortly, I swear). Athletic and hiking packs are also convenient, since they’re usually heavily lined and will wick away the natural enemy of soft foods in the wild: condensation. My softball bag has routinely proved picnic-worthy, thanks to the side holsters for bats (also a great place to stow a drink or a baguette), the pouch for cleats at the bottom (where my picnic blanket and its attendant grass clippings are separate from the food), and the cozy padded back and straps.
Once you’ve chosen your picnic “basket,” it’s time to consider the time of day. High noon picnics are going to be exposed to dazzling sunlight, while evening picnics might get chilly. Select a blanket accordingly. A friend of mine has a tapestry you’d expect to see hanging in a stoner’s dorm room; it’s a surprisingly good picnic blanket, and lightweight to pack and carry. On the other hand, a vinyl tablecloth for outdoor use can easily be flipped upside down: you sit on the soft side that’s meant to grip the picnic table’s grain, and the shiny surface beneath keeps any wetness in the grass from seeping up into your shorts. Because nothing ruins a picnic like looking as though you peed yourself.
Basket: check. Blanket: check. Now, on to the good part: prep your wine slushies. You’ll need about 24 hours’ notice for these babies, but they’re born picnic fare, and are also pretty much my favorite thing to bring to the beach, whenever we’re allowed to do that again. First, swallow your pride and buy a box of wine (the numerous other merits of boxed wine are a different TueDuesday entirely). If you insist on being fancy, do a little Google-ing; there are tons of Not Franzia options, you bougie diva. When you get home (or get your box delivered), take the bag out of the box. Tempting though it may be, do not open the tap! You’ll have leakage. Instead, put the bag in your freezer overnight.
That’s it. Seriously. When you wake up, the water in the wine will have frozen; the alcohol will have stayed liquid; you will have a three-liter sack’o’slushie that doubles as an ice pack for your bag and, once melted, will still be frosty cold white or pink wine. It’s sealed for easy, leak-free transport, and no beverage container is lighter weight than a simple bag.
(I know. I'm a Wile E. Coyote-level Super Genius. At least when it comes to Ways to Ingest Wine.)
Now, on to food. Virtually anything can become picnic food, but some fare better than others; we’ve all had a sad, soggy picnic PB&J, haven’t we? I’m partial to anything relatively hard (yes, I know that’s what she said) and pretty much anything that can be packed in Tupperware. If your kitchen budget does not include one of those darling color-coordinated multi-packs of plastic food containers, may I suggest saving your own? Splurge on a pint of Talenti gelato and you’ve got a pint-sized hard plastic container with a screw-top lid, perfect for pasta salad or, if you’re going knife-less, an apple, pre-cut and reassembled, then held together with a rubber band to prevent browning. Which reminds me: hard cheeses, cured meats, crudite…these can all be cut in advance to save you the hassle of packing a knife. Not least because after a bag of wine slushies, you definitely don’t need to be handling sharp objects. As for other self-made Tupperware, you’re likely only one night of Chinese take-out away from all the quart cups and small condiment containers you could ever want or need.
Don’t feel like packing your own? Raid the condiment counter the next time you’re out for burgers and bam: ketchup, mustard, relish, the works. (Assuming burger joints still exist whe all this is over. [sigh]) Hummus is reliable picnic fare, since you can dip nearly anything into it; ditto peanut butter, especially if you sneak a bar of dark chocolate into your bag up against the slushie sack so it’s good and cold when you break it out. Sandwiches tend not to survive picnics, so unless you’re prepared to assemble on-site (and fearless about consuming lukewarm mayo, which as a rule I will not do despite my undying love for The People’s Condiment), skip hoagies and go a little more Euro / DIY with meats, cheeses, and a crusty baguette or a couple of hard rolls.
When you’re packing your picnic, keep in mind that heavier items go on the bottom, and do your best to store cold food near the slushie sack. Along the same lines as the knife: choose finger foods whenever possible and include plenty of napkins, plus cups and plates; silverware is optional if you’ve packed properly. And with that…Ta-da! Look at you! You’re all packed up and ready to go.
It’s time to head for the backyard, kids. Or the nearest abandoned playground. Here in Philly, we’re already daydreaming about spending a sunny afternoon on the deck out back, and it’s only TueDuesday.
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