The Irresistible Charm of a Picnic: A Lifetime of Meals Under the Open Sky
Almost everyone in my close circle of friends and family has had the pleasure of being hosted to a picnic by me. No matter where I live or travel, picnicking is one of my favorite pastimes. Gathering outside is a balm for the soul—medicine for the malaise of modern life, lived for the most part indoors and detached from nature. Our nervous systems say “thank you” as we settle in on a blanket in the grass or at a picnic table under a tree. The magic of the picnic is so much more than simply eating a meal outdoors. Every spring, as picnicking season arrives with its temperate, sunny days, I yearn to plan a Saturday picnic lunch. I look forward to the magic of once again enjoying a meal outdoors, but also engaging in whatever the setting offers: playing frisbee, tossing a ball with my dog, putting my feet in the grass, or, if I'm lucky, dipping them at a water's edge. There is an air of luxury that belies the simplicity of picnicking—the luxuriousness of unburdened time. There is no agenda other than gathering in nature. The clock seems to slow when there is nowhere to be and nothing to do except precisely what you happen to be doing: gathering around a shared meal and spending time outdoors.
On a recent trip with family, I was reminded of the many picnics of my life. Too many to count, but among them, there are highlights. There have been Saturday afternoons with my children as infants, each adult taking a turn cradling a baby in one arm while holding a ruby red watermelon slice with the other hand. There have been picnics in just about any location imaginable: mountainside, creekside, lakeside, on boats, sitting on ledges of castle ruins, and in farmhouse meadows as fireflies lit the evening sky. While revisiting the countless landscapes of my picnicking endeavors, my in-laws shared their memories of meeting me for the first time when I hosted them for a picnic in a picturesque city park in Charlotte, North Carolina. I was young, only about 22 years old, and heaven knows what I served. They don't remember the menu either, but they do recall the uniqueness of being invited to a picnic where we sat on a blanket in the grass, getting to know one other. That was over 25 years ago, and to this day, I am still dreaming up plans for the next picnic.
A few years ago, my teenage daughter and I visited Santa Barbara, California, and spent our first morning perusing the local farmers market. It was stocked with interesting fruits and veggies that we don't see back home in the foothills of the Rockies. We lingered in each farmer's booth, talking, tasting their wares, and loading up my backpack with all sorts of goodies. As the morning rolled along, I suggested that instead of finding a restaurant for lunch, we cobble together a lunch from the farmers market and find a nearby beach for a picnic. We took an inventory of the odds and ends we had purchased and made another stroll through the stalls, filling in the gaps to round out a meal.
We were delighted to discover an almost deserted and charmingly named spot called Butterfly Beach. We laid out our hyper-local lunch on beach towels, gorging and mmm-ming our way through our market finds: oil- and herb-marinated goat cheese, creamy hummus, crusty bread, dried fruit and nuts, and lime-green guava fruit, only in season for a precious two weeks a year. The sun was warm, the breeze light and salty, and the cliffs rising up behind our sandy picnic spot made us feel like we were settled at the foot of a craggy rock castle. We felt free, unbound by time, like the day might blissfully go on forever.
Years before Butterfly Beach, during a very different sort of picnic that was not spontaneous but planned in advance, my mother and I sat along the shady bank of a river in a tiny village in southwestern France. While living in France, my mother spent years roaming the outdoor markets, collecting antique linens and china. From her collections, we loaded up her wicker picnic basket: a floral tablecloth and linen napkins, mismatched antique plates, and sterling silver flatware. Then, in went all the requisite French foods: quiche, green salad, cheese, baguette, piles of perfect little apricots, and, of course, a chilled bottle of Rosé. Somehow, nothing broke, not even the wine glasses. Although my mother had owned her house in France for over 20 years, and I had visited it many times, this was my only trip spent there with her. Of everything I remember from that trip, this picnic stands out for its serenity and unfussy beauty. The tablecloth, likely from the 1950s, featured a print of light and dark pink cabbage roses, capturing the nostalgia of the roses and evoking the feel of the day. The French are known for their leisurely meals, and a picnic in France is no exception. The only thing missing to extend our idle afternoon was a coffee to top things off. Next time, we decided.
A couple of summers ago, my lifelong friend and her family visited us for the first time in Colorado. She and I grew up together in Winnipeg, Manitoba, where we often joked that we lived in “the flattest of the flat part” of the plains in central Canada. Now, her family couldn't wait to get to Colorado and see what they kept calling “the big mountains.” When I heard just how excited her teenage kids were to see the Rockies, I knew we had to picnic in a gem of a spot about 30 minutes from Boulder with a panoramic vista of Green Mountain. The picnic spot rewards its visitors with unforgettable views, a couple of picnic tables, and nothing around but evergreen-covered “big mountains.” I often comment that this view of Green Mountain should be called “Broccoli Mountain,” as the contours resemble tightly packed, dark green broccoli. Sometimes, nature gets a little showy with its beauty, and Broccoli Mountain does not disappoint with its rolling and verdant abundance.
With a party of ten people to meal prep and pack a movable feast for, I was late getting us all out the door. Admittedly, I had contributed to our delayed departure by making a peach cobbler with the last of the season’s local Palisade peaches. With the car packed and everyone ready to go, I stood in the kitchen impatiently, counting down the minutes until the cobbler came out of the oven. Steaming hot, I shoved it into a tote bag with a tea towel wrapped around it to keep it warm. Once in the car with my precious cargo, we peeled out of the driveway. We arrived not before sunset as planned, but as the mountains swallowed the last of the light. And just like that, our planned sunset picnic transformed into a moonlight picnic—unexpected and utterly delightful. We put on our puffy jackets as the late-summer air cooled, hinting at autumn's slow return, and dug into the spread. There was homemade hibiscus tea, crusty baguette sandwiches piled high with butter, brie, and ham, a colorful tomato and cucumber salad made fresh from my garden, and, of course, the still-warm peach cobbler.
We were crammed in tight, elbow to elbow, and conversation flowed easily, filled with stories and laughter. Our two families huddled around a last-of-summer picnic, getting to know one another yet somehow feeling as though we had already spent years of evenings together just like this one. The stars began to pepper the darkening sky, and to our great satisfaction, we watched the moon rise from behind the ridge of Green Mountain. With moonlit faces, the night wrapped around us as we licked the last sweet morsels of cobbler from our spoons. In the vastness of that landscape, with only moonbeams to trace the silhouettes of mountain tops against the night sky, we felt, surely, that we were the only humans on earth. Full hearts and full bellies, we wished for that timeless moment to last forever. Of course, the night did end. They always do. But the silver edges of that evening are forever etched in memory—and we all agreed that everyone should experience at least one moonlight picnic in their lives.
Master the Art of the Picnic: My Tips for Outdoor Feasting
Picnics are more than just a meal; they're an experience—a chance slow down and savor good food, good company, and the great outdoors. To help you elevate your next al fresco adventure, here are some of my tried-and-true tips for picnicking.
Food Prep Made Easy
Deconstructed Sandwiches: Skip the soggy bread! Pack all your sandwich fixings separately and let everyone build their own at the picnic table. This keeps everything fresh and fun. For an extra touch, grab a fresh loaf or baguette from a local bakery.
Quiche: Your Picnic Powerhouse: This versatile dish is practically designed for picnics. Quiches travel beautifully and are delicious chilled or at room temperature, making them an ideal main course.
Cold Salads Are Your Friends: Think beyond leafy greens. Pasta salads, cole slaws, corn and tomato salads, or hearty bean salads are fantastic options that hold up well without refrigeration for a while and are tasty at any temperature.
Summer’s Packable Fruit: Melon is a refreshing crowd-pleaser—just cut it up at home to make sharing easy. Keep it chilled in your cooler for a sweet, hydrating part of the meal.
Elevate Your Ambiance
Grilling for Good Vibes: There's something undeniably charming about cooking over an open flame. If your picnic spot doesn't have built-in grills, a small portable charcoal or gas grill is easy to bring along for that perfect "hang-out" atmosphere.
Tablecloth & Real (Melamine) Dishware: For an instantly elevated experience, pack a tablecloth. Not only does it provide a clean surface for potentially grimy picnic tables, but it also adds a touch of charm. And for an eco-friendly and sophisticated touch, bring real dishware and silverware. Once you're done, simply pile all the dirty dishes into a trash bag for transportation and toss them into the dishwasher when you get home.
Beyond the Bites
Games & Relaxation: Picnics aren't just about the food; they're about enjoying the outdoors and hanging with friends and family. Bring along yard games like badminton, Spikeball, or a frisbee to get everyone moving. Or, if you're feeling less active, simply lie back and watch the clouds drift by.
Enjoy the slow- Heather