I thought I would add a little page to just explain what it is about picnics that gets me in the (picnicking) mood.
On the left, you’ll see a female who is posing for the camera. Her native land is the South East of England. You will spot her in and around the Suffolk landscape, except for when she migrates for short periods of time to other worldwide destinations.
I don’t usually pose like that, but everyone’s allowed a posey photo once in a while…
Whilst eating out at your favourite restaurant (which is exactly what I’m doing in the above photo) is always enjoyable, there’s a certain etiquette you have to comply with: you sit up straight in a chair, you order, your meal arrives, you eat, you pay, you leave. And maybe get your Mum to take a photo of you posing like a picnic professional (above).
With picnics comes freedom with food. Pick your food, pick at your food, pick your people, pick your place (which could be on a hill, in a derelict house, on the beach, just about anywhere you want it to be, not at that last available table squashed in the corner). Speak as loud as you want, play a game, sing a song. Ok, maybe you do just want to sit and eat your picnic in peace and quiet, but you can’t deny that picnics = liberty. Be free, have a picnic.
Inevitably, not every picnic is picnic perfect. Maybe you pick a place that you subsequently find to be home to a bustling family of ants. Or perhaps the limit as to the amount of noise you can make in a restaurant is preferable for a family always on the edge of feuds. And of course, you can’t pick your weather.
Let’s take a look at this snap. It features one of the earliest picnics that I can remember.
That’s me. The one bawling on the left. I thought my sister was trying to seriously injure my brother. And what’s more, my mother was documenting this criminal act with her camera, instead of coming to my brother’s rescue! Clearly I was oblivious to the victim’s smiles…
Pondering over this photo, I realised how picnics inspire a different kind of food ethos. Food represents the end of dining out. Where picnics are concerned, food is just the beginning.
Pick•Nic Blog will follow my foodie forays into the British landscape with friends and family (alliteration largely unintentional here). My picnic posts recount all that was good and bad about a particular picnic. Perhaps a certain recipe let me down, whilst another got my taste buds tingling for days after. Maybe I got the timing all wrong. Learn from my successes, as well as my mistakes.
Most importantly, I hope my picnic posts will inspire you to trundle out into the wilderness with your wicker hamper or your old plastic bag or what-have-you, and begin stories of your own.
Pick a picnic and start a story, as said by your hamper-harlot,