Picnic Perfect

I had a hard, hard Winter.

Up in Seattle, where the short days are everlastingly frosty and dark, I spent most of my time crying and pouting and bitching about this place and trying to remember what warmth was like.

I wept and wailed about being homesick for California.

I was miserable.

A wretch.

You can ask Tim (Actually, how he can still love me after all the temper tantrums I threw is beyond me. I’m reminded all the time that the man is an actual saint).

Then, came the month of March and all the signals of the Spring season came with it.

At Pike Place Market, bouquets of yellow and pink and white and red tulips started to arrive in bulk from the Skagit Valley.

Fresh-pressed apple cider was no longer being served piping hot and garnished with a cinnamon stick, but, instead, stirred together with springy, peach nectar and served over ice with a straw to refresh on a warm day.

Blossoming cherry trees blanketed Seattle in pink pastels. Loose petals floated high on swirly winds and then fell, dusting the streets in flower snow.

I held my breathe for a spike in the temperature.

Spring, however, had seemingly arrived in every sense of the word except for the weather. This past Spring, the sun never even made an appearance in Seattle.

Instead, Winter weather cruelly persisted.

Throughout all of April and well into May we continued to wake up to gloomy, grey and misty drizzles.

I wondered seriously if I might ever see the sun again in my whole, entire life. When I was pouting (which was always), my guess was that no, no I would not ever see the sun again.

And then, about two weeks ago, something miraculous happened.

One morning, I woke up and it was light and bright and warm enough to leave the house in shorts.

The clouds had parted.

Could this be real?

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief and a second look out the window had disproved my hypothesis that the sun was actually extinct.

This sunshine was for real.

Thank. Fuck.

If you don’t know by now, I love the heat. I always want to spend all my days outside, wearing nothing but creamy sunscreen and worshiping the warmth.

So my mood improved slightly when clear skies in Seattle continued for a week and the weather forecast had promised a Memorial Day Monday that would be similarly cloudless and sizzling. Luckily, I was to have the whole day off of work. I suggested to Tim that we spend the work holiday lounging on the secret lawns of South Seattle’s Kubota Japanese Garden.

I proposed we pack a picnic so that we could feast on fabulous finger foods in full sun. We could invite my friend Lyndsey who’s new to Seattle from Boston.

Did that sound fun?

Both Tim and Lyndsey accepted my invitation to lunch and so I got straight to work planning and packing the perfect picnic.

You know, I really love packing picnics.

And I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really fucking good at it.

At the garden, under a full, 1:30 p.m. sun, I had Lyndsey and Tim unfold a lightweight blanket next to a fish pond that was swimming with fat, orange and white koi and snappy, black turtles. The garden was crowded with red butterflies and white butterflies and yellow butterflies and dragonflies. Squirrels darted across the lawn and dangled from the branches of lush trees. Not far from our blanket, a brown bunny rabbit chewed mechanically on grass and dandelion flowers.

I’ve told you before about how good Tim looks in the sun. Monday was no exception. He smiled bigger and more. His laugh traveled farther in air that was not crowded with cloud cover. He spread on his back across the big blanket. He browned his shins and his neck sizzled to pink. I tried to discreetly admire his sun-induced glitter and glow while I unloaded the lunch that I had carefully packed into my vintage, wicker basket.

We started with cheese and crackers and charcuterie.

On a square, wooden cheese board I arranged my favorites.

On one corner, a wedge of Unexpected Cheddar ($3.99) from Trader Joe’s. I like that the crumbly, white cheese is tangy, sharp and that after a big bite, your tongue is touched with the unanticipated flavor of grainy Parmesan. I find that cheddar is a good cheese to serve to guests because it’s a familiar variety and because it pairs well with almost any fruit or meat that you might add to your spread.

In another corner of the board, I put a silky slice of Le Delice de Bourgogne. This is my very favorite cheese in the world. Made in Burgundy, this triple cream cow’s cheese is made with an extra helping of butterfat, so it’s extremely ripe and decedent. Underneath it’s chewy, brie-like rind, the cheese is all at once salty and sour, sweet and tart. We ate it with plain water crackers so we could really taste it’s tang.

To counter some of the assertive flavors on my board with a more mild bite, I also house-marinated some Ciliegine mozzarella ($3.49). I drained the cheese from the water liquid that it was pre-packaged in, and then I drizzled the little balls of cow’s milk cheese with spicy Spanish olive oil and shakes of crushed red pepper. I seasoned the mozzarella bites with crunchy fleur de sel and fresh-cracked black pepper.

Between the wheels and wedges of cheese, I stacked the board high with Spanish cured meats ($4.99). I alternately layered Salchichón Salame, a subtly smoky salami that’s made with white wine, and Chorizo Cantimpalo, which is a leaner sausage that gets its smoky and spicy flavoring from paprika.

I filled in the rest of the board with juicy, red grapes and rosy, Rainier cherries. I like that the stone fruit berries tasted metallic like Lake Washington swims on deep summer days.

We nibbled on a mix of pitted Kalamata and green olives that I stirred together myself with shaves of lemon rind and sprigs of fresh rosemary.

And then.

Have you ever had a peach sandwich?

I made them for us and they were so deliciously yummy and summer flavored.

On a crusty loaf of olive bread I spooned and smeared thick spreads of seedy raspberry preserves. Then came stacks of meaty, yellow peaches. I added peppery arugula and salty shaves of Iberico ham. Then, for richness, I layered on velvety wedges of Cambozola ($11.99 per pound), which is a French soft-ripened triple cream cheese mixed with Italian Gorgonzola. The resulting product is a cheese that is considerably milder and creamier than a true bleu.

I wrapped the piled-high sandwiches up in pearly waxed paper and tied them up with white ribbon and stems of pink carnations. I wanted my picnic guests to feel like they were opening a little gift when they unwrapped their lunches.

The sandwich recipe was an original. I wrote it myself. And I think they were good because both Lyndsey and Tim ate them down to the bread bones.

You could make the same one, or you could invent your own.

I like to experiment with pairings. The key is incorporating ingredients that maintain a balance in flavor. Think salty, sweet, spicy, creamy and crunchy all in one bite.

Maybe you’ll stack your sandwich with olive tapenade and thick cuts of green heirlooms. Or, you might layer avocado and grapefruit on an open faced slice of really good bread and then garnish it with slices of red onion and crumbles of feta (can I come?).

I laid out six-minute eggs and cucumbers cut diagonally to eat with hummus spreads and garlic dips.

I infused cold water with frozen pineapple pieces.

I like drinking fruit infused water. Sometimes with orange slices and mint or sometimes with lemon and whole raspberries and basil. I call my potions “Sex Water” and I always feel like I’m somewhere exotic when I sipping on them.

For dessert I made berry scones. I bought the mix from Trader Joe’s ($3.69) but whisked in my own ingredients so that they would taste more homemade. I scraped the insides out of a vanilla bean and added the grains to my batter. I added fresh berries and then sprinkled the top of the scones with crystalized sugar.

We had a wonderful time.

The park was a forest of pink and purple flowers. Birds chirped cliché sounds and subtle winds cooled.

Late in the afternoon, after Tim had to leave us and go to work, Lyndsey and I poured cans of Underwood Sparkling Rose into our glasses floating with pineapple ice cubes. The bubbles induced giggles about bikini wax nightmares and really bad sex we’d had in college. We cheered to many more sunny, summer spreads with lots and lots of pink wine in a can.

I needed this day — A day in garden sun to feel charged, refreshed and revitalized. To feel really, really full.

Summer, I really can’t wait for you to get here.

You always do me so damn good.