Parkway Picnics
How British Roadside Repasts Changed the Way I Viewed Summer's Favorite Meal, the Picnic.
During the summer and autumn of 1987, I traveled around the United Kingdom with a friend. We drove from London to Edinburgh to Ben Nevis to Loch Ness to the Isle of Skye and down to Blackpool before settling into a log cabin in the New Forest in southern England.
While we were motoring up and down A roads and B roads and even C and D roads a very strange thing kept happening—all the while, I would see very normal-looking couples, and even whole families, parked by the side of the road, relaxing in folding chairs, usually at a folding table, enjoying a leisurely lunch or perhaps a spot of tea. China cups and saucers, glasses, real cutlery and cloth napkins graced the table, next to which were gas camping burners heating up kettles.
What the devil was going on? I can honestly say I had never seen anything like it. My travel companion told me that it was a common sight to see, folks stopped on the road with a basket of food, having a bite to eat. Over the next few months I laughed at every sighting of them, but this sort of elegant, earthy respite never left my mind. It was so unlike what I was used to seeing at the rest stops back in the States—no rush, no paper wrappers and plastic trays, an actual moment to stop and rest.
Defining the Picnic: The Word Is the Thing.
In doing some research on tailgating last summer for a Mix article, I learned of the early origins of tailgating in Ancient Greece and Rome, while they were celebrating the harvest; and then, centuries later, of groups traveling great distances to gather and watch Civil War battles.
The origins of the picnic are similar to tailgating, with its beginnings in meals being eaten outdoors, such as the ones served during hunting parties in the late Middle Ages. But a 17th-Century poem marked the arrival of the phrase “Pique Nique.” The central character, named Pique Nique, was a nightmare of gluttony and a fan favorite. The words Pique Nique actually translate from French to mean something like to pick at small things or nibble. (“Pique” comes from the French verb “piquer” meaning to “pick at,” and “nique” is French for “small thing.”)
After the French Revolution the fleeing French aristocracy spread their habit of picnicking around the world. In 1801, some of these expats in England started the Pic-Nic Society, where half a dozen bottles of wine and a pot-luck dish gained you entry to an illicit, aristocratic, indoor romp.
While the Pic-Nic Society disbanded in 1850, the Victorians had long since absconded with the term Pic-Nic. They popularized it and moved the whole party outdoors. It teetered between a wholesome pretense of “taking of the air” and a bacchanalian release of inhibitions, harkening back to the bawdy days of the Pic-Nic Society.
By the mid-twentieth century, with technological advancements aiding in porting potables and food in thermoses and Tupperware, combined with mass-produced affordable automobiles, picnics could now be had by all. And who was to say what was, and what was not, a proper picnic? I laughed at what I saw along the British roadsides decades ago, but weren’t they picnics too?
Park Picnics—The Annual July 3rd Picnic Makes a Picnicker Out of Me.
So this is where I come in. I was not always a picnicker per se, but, when Robert and I first started dating, for a long time my weekends were not my own and I saw him only Monday through Thursday. When July 4th landed on a weekday, July 3rd became an opportunity to start the celebration early. Robert would meet me at my job and we would high-tail it to the nearest park for a pre-holiday picnic. (In most cases this was Central Park.) I took the pre-packed bag to work. My “go bag”—always ready—held a vintage blanket, non-breakable antique stainless Japanese serving trays, French utensils, various teak bowls, a plastic pouch you could fill with ice to chill wine, and glasses wrapped in real napkins.
The night before I would make some heartier foods like fried chicken, “Scotched Everything” or some other dish like Chicago Hot Dog Salad (a last-minute, raid-the-fridge favorite). On his way to my office, Robert would stop at the late, lamented Brooklyn icon, Esposito & Sons Pork Store, for stuffed cherry peppers, soppressata, and cheese; and bread from either of the local bakeries, Mazzola or Caputo.
Once settled in the park, we unpacked the beverages, which included good wine, flasks of delicious Robert-made cocktails and water. At first, we were getting to know each other, but then the picnic became a tradition. The 3rd of July was always so much better than the actual 4th of July, probably because there were no expectations, other than getting the holiday started.
Pandemic Picnics: Honeymoon in Red Hook
If you don’t already know that our Honeymoon began on the ill-fated weekend of March 13, 2020—i.e., the start of the pandemic—then it’s not my fault. I tell everyone this story. Over and over.
Take the best time of someone’s life and combine it with a pandemic and what do you get? Picnics and lots of them! To-go cocktails and food, eaten outside. We were newlyweds in NYC and the only way we could “go out” was to pick up to-go food and cocktails from striving bars and restaurants and enjoy them al fresco. We also felt good patronizing all the places in Brooklyn we hoped would make it through Covid with us, and we had lots of surplus honeymoon money to spend.
We had picnics in Fort Greene Park, Prospect Park, Carroll Park, The Promenade, Greenwood Cemetery and more. One of the first places we stopped during the initial days of the shutdown was Fort Defiance in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Owner St. John Frizell had delicious to-go cocktails and foodstuffs, sold ready to serve. That first day when we walked to Red Hook, and picnicked in Valentino Park by the harbor was a defining moment. I felt so lucky to be there, healthy and with Robert. I never missed the other honeymoon plans after that.
Pompeii Picnic
In June of 2022, Robert and I were in Italy and I was able to finally see Pompeii. As a child in the early ‘70s, I saw a documentary on Pompeii and was fascinated by the image of a mother covering her child to protect them from the volcano’s blast. They were cast in lava for all time.
On our way to the isle of Ischia, we stopped in Naples and took a day trip to Pompeii. The night before, I read that there weren’t really restaurants near the site, so we picked up a bottle of red wine, some prosciutto and ham, olives, bread and chips. I packed a corkscrew, and a couple small cups that I had bought at the Porta Portese market in Rome the prior Sunday. When we arrived at the site, the heat was brutal. Thankfully, a man was selling frozen bottles of water. We bought four.
Hours passed, walking in the blistering heat. We barely noticed the temperature, captivated by the beautiful frescos and other evidence of a city once filled with life. Then, at the other end of the city, I finally got to see my mother and child in the Garden of the Fugitives.
Afterwards, we walked up some stairs to look over Pompeii and I turned to see the Necropoli di P. Nocera. It was something I had seen a thousand times before in the Grand Tour paintings by architect Michael Graves, my former boss. I lost my breath.
We sat down and Robert took two of the empty water bottles, their ice cores still intact, and poured the red wine inside them. We filled the Porta Portese glasses with the chilled red wine and ate the prosciutto and other items we had bought that morning. More than just an Instagram moment, this was a time to pause and, as the post-security area in the Milwaukee airport famously says, “recombobulate”. This was a picnic in Pompeii.
I sat and thought about my childhood, watching the documentary on Pompeii, and carrying that memory with me for half a century. I thought about Michael Graves’ paintings. I thought of Michael on his trip here as a young man, with no inkling of what was to become of him—just like the people in Pompeii that fateful day. Everyone in Pompieii was long gone. Michael Graves, who died in 2015, was long gone. Someday, hopefully not soon, I too will be gone. These thoughts don’t happen in the cafe by the train station.
Unpacking the Basket
These are frantic times, so much so that I don’t need to describe them here, because you know exactly what I mean. Every day is a sort of piñata of daily struggles: work issues; over-priced groceries; media frenzies; democracy in peril, commuting woes; housing troubles; all bursting out on us. And we are left to fight for the spoils. And in the middle of all of this, corporations are prodding us to “click here,” making us worry we’ll miss out on grabbing some of the candy.
I really want to slow down and ignore all of this. I want that motorway car picnic, where we sit comfortably, yet somehow elegantly, by the side of the road. Perhaps enjoying some delicious fresh bread, maybe with a crystalline aged sharp Cheddar cheese with Branston Pickle and a glass of Bitter in a real glass.
I’ve discovered the joys of picnics over the past decade or so, especially during the pandemic when these small treats were so precious. I’m not the only one. Businesses seized this opportunity and monetized the picnic—people realized this was a great way to get together, safely and Instagramably. The luxury picnic was popular again. But I just want to sit with Robert and enjoy the moment—its a small thing, like the definition of the word picnic, to pick at small things. Sometimes I enjoy myself so much, I even forget to take that fucking photo for Instagram. Ha.
The Picnic Menu
The menu for a picnic can be almost anything at all—though it’s best to keep each situation in mind:
Will keeping the food cold prove difficult? Stick with tinned fish, fruits, nuts, crackers, breads, cheeses. Heck, even a PB&J doesn’t have to be refrigerated.
Driving a long distance to and from the picnic? Don’t eat things that will make the driver tired. Fruits, crudite, high protein, low-fat items will prevent having to stop for a coffee on the way home (unless you want to!).
Don’t stress yourself out about impressing your guests. I’ve had a great time at picnics made up entirely from stuff bought at Costco; a rotisserie chicken, a sandwich platter and a Ceasar salad, along with their various cookies for dessert.
Remember there are rules for each location. Alcohol is often prohibited. Quite often we don’t follow those rules, but we want you to check them out before the picnic begins.
Accessories
I never get caught up in trying to impress anyone but myself, maybe because I never had a lot of money, just imagination.
Blanket: I always have a vintage blanket, different ones for different seasons. The little girl inside of me who wanted all her undershirts and underwear to match would never use her red-white-and-blue summer blanket for an autumn picnic. I’ve also used afghans, tablecloths, drop cloths, and bedspreads.
Basket: traditional picnic baskets are lovely, but not always practical. I like the ones that are used solely for transporting the plates, cups, and cutlery. Food in a basket, even in closed containers, tends upend and spill. I use a flat bottom canvas bag with a long strap to put over my shoulder.
Serveware: I like thrifted items, not only because I like the way they look, and they are better for the environment, but honestly because they are cheaper. I’ve bought things from the thrift for a special look, then washed them and donated them back. It still ends up being less expensive than buying a lot of plastic junk.
Location, Location, Location
I’ve learned that locations for picnics are where you choose them to be: stoops, cars in the rain, beautiful parks, backyards, beaches at sunset, benches on the street—yes, even Pompeii. Impromptu or planned, it makes no difference. Just watch out for thunderstorms and bees and bears.
My favorite Picnic Menu
The sky is the limit here—and I know for a fact because most of you out there are amazing cooks—but my favorite picnic menu is as follows:
The Beginning:
A little dish with a few bits of dried fruit like apricots, a piece of fresh seasonal fruit, nuts, a little cheese with jam or mustard, some sliced cured meat and crackers or bread. All served on a plate so small that it will be gone in a few minutes. Just enough.
Serve this with something light like a G&T, a pre-bottled Americano (so easy to add the seltzer and ice to a pretty vintage glass with a fruit slice a la minute). Don’t want to drink? Serve something fizzy with frozen grapes (even sparkling water). Sometimes we’ve had Martinis to start when it rained and the picnic was on the porch, but those picnics were much shorter.
The Middle:
I love fried chicken or roast chicken. Cold. This is the most delicious picnic food ever. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m at a picnic eating a cold chicken leg daintily like Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief. I serve this with some kind of salad that I’ve brought along in a small to-go container with a lid: a mason jar or an even a little bitty Tupperware container. Sometimes there is a little extra thing like Scotched olives or picnic-temperature egg rolls I made with leftovers from supper the night before— something easy to eat and fun. I’ll bring cutlery on picnics, but I really try to avoid everything except the spork.
Robert serves something cold and refreshing with this part—a light white wine or rose (or champagne if we’re rolling in dough). In recent years, I’ve had the non-alcoholic wine alternatives Non, or non-alcoholic beer, and not missed the wine.
The End:
Robert is not a dessert person and I don’t think I’ve ever had desserts on a picnic unless the Ice Cream Man was nearby. So, I think this is where you lie back and finish the wine or perhaps have another cocktail.
🧺🐝 🌸🐻🧀⛈️🌻⚡️🍗🍹☀️
Picnics are my favorite things and if we get above forty degrees this weekend, I’ll be outside somewhere doing just this.
—Mary Kate
If you have a moment, please let us know your favorite picnicking stories. What food did you have? What drinks? Maybe there was a special location…
Odds and Ends…
The first annual cocktail-hour gathering of “The Mix”’s Bar Regular subscribers took place last Saturday at the Crown Heights, Brooklyn, cocktail bar Altar. It was great to pair some of the names on the Bar Regular virtual wall of brass plaques to their smiling owners. Mixing up the on-the-house cocktails (the “house” in this case being The Mix!) was legendary New York bartender Phil Ward, who designed the menu at Altar and can be found behind the bar there most Saturdays. Favorite cocktails of the two dozen Bar Regulars gathered included Ward’s own Beefsteak Martini and the Old Cuban, a modern classic by Audrey Saunders and a favorite from Ward’s days working at Pegu Club. Two Bar Regulars were savvy enough to order two of Ward’s modern classics, the Oaxaca Old-Fashioned and Division Bell. A few cocktail-world celebrities—who also happen to be Bar Regulars—showed up, including Sother Teague (the maestro of Amor y Amargo and author of the book I’m Just Here for the Drinks), Nick Bennett (until recently, bar director at Porchlight), John Deragon (one of the opening bartenders at PDT and a longtime guiding force of the CAP apprentice program at Tales of the Cocktail) and Sandy Rosin, standing in for her husband, Martin Doudoroff, cocktail app creator par excellence. Thanks to everyone who came out!
(If you want to be part of our next gathering, please consider upgrading your subscription to Bar Regular):
Steven Liles, a beloved San Francisco bartender who was a fixture at the tiki bar Smuggler’s Cove for many years, died in late April. He was 55… Tallboy, a high-meets-low cocktail bar in Temescal, Oakland, has opened for business. It is the work of industry veteran Den Stephens (of Oakland favorite North Light). There is both a Martini menu and a hot dog menu, so this bar gets The Mix seal of approval sight unseen. And here’s a twist: all the hot dogs are vegan!… Brooklyn’s Rockwell Place, which closed for two months due to a mishap at a construction site next door, is back in business!… Bar Goto Niban, the much-loved cocktail bar in Brooklyn, is providing refreshments to accompany the Brooklyn Museum show “Hiroshige’s 100 Famous Views of Edo (feat. Takashi Murakami)” during its spring and summer run. The drinks will be served at the museum’s restaurant The Norm through Aug. 4… Pietro’s, the classic midtown Manhattan red sauce joint, which has been in business since 1932, and at its current location on E. 43rd Street, announced is would be closing and moving on May 23. No word on where it will reopen. Pietro’s is one of the last vestiges of the old “Steak Row,” a few block of restaurants that stood on E. 45th Street east of Grand Central Terminal… There are a lot of new menus out there at New York’s various cocktail bars. Grand Army debuted its “Grand Ole Army” menu, which has a country music theme. Sample drink: Folsom Prison Blues with rye, Irish whiskey, brown butter, coffee and coconut. Clover Club issued a spring food menu in which chef Sam Sherman introduced spicy zucchini crostini, glazed short rib lettuce wraps and a romaine wedge salad. Clover also has a new late-night food menu which runs until 1 a.m. and included staples like theirs crisps, fries, deviled eggs and burger. Dutch Kills in Queens also brought out its new spring/summer menu… Leyenda, the Brooklyn bar that specializes in spirits of Latin America, will celebrate nine years in business next week… Speaking of Leyenda, its sister wine bar, Whoopsie Daisy, has opened on Rogers Avenue in Crown Heights… Tickets for the 2004 Tales of the Cocktail convention in New Orleans are now on sale… Chicago’s newest craft cocktail bar Common Decency has a 1980s Miami Vice-inspired theme. It took over the the former space of the much-missed Lost Lake in Logan Square at 3154 W. Diversey. It is the work of industry veterans Mark Steuer (Funkenhausen), Kelsey Kasper (Spilt Milk), Jason Turley (Bar DeVille, Spilt Milk), and the late Felipe Hernandez (Funkenhausen)… British cocktail writer Alice Lascelles has joined the small, but significant club—of which I am a member!—of scribes who have written books about the Martini. Her new book, The Martini, will come out in September… A Most Noble Water, the latest book by cocktail historians Anistatia Miller and Jared Brown, will drop in late June. It’s about gin… Writer Jordan Michelman ruminated on the expansion of Death & Co. for Punch. I have a quote in there, though it’s from my book Modern Classic Cocktails, not the interview I did with Michelman.
Only 48 days until the annual July 3rd Picnic!
Oh your lovely essay brings back so many memories.
In Denmark we did the same as the British, when I was a kid: Stopped the car right along the road for lunch if the ground was level and the view was pretty.
We had a table with four little chairs inside. And my Mum had made the smørrebrød and put it on little trays in a red metal box with room for a frozen plastic square.
Beer for my Dad and soda for my Mum and us kids.