“Picnic perfection”

Fine Food with

Charles Campion

Food writer and critic

• It’s time to go left field rather than safety-first
• “Fashion or for keeps?”
• “New year and new possibilities”
• “What is in a name?”
• “The art of shopping”

It’s no surprise that one of my favourite passages in the Wind in the Willows is the one where Ratty checks out the picnic that he has put together for himself and the Mole. The enticing list of goodies seems endless: “coldchickencoldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssandwichespotted meatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater”

When you’re masterminding a picnic, profusion is good. Readers of a certain age will recall the sad sight of a typical roadside picnic with the Ford Cortina parked up at the side of the road, the picnic table and chairs unfolded, and stewed tea dribbling from a vacuum flask, sandwiches with real sand. Meanwhile the participants struggled with both the noise of the traffic and the persistent whiff of exhaust.

Hugh Lowther, fifth Earl of Lonsdale, became known for his awesome extravagance towards the end of the 19th Century and he was properly wealthy. Part of his estate was 75,000 acres of Cumbria including several coal mines and he spent money like a drunken sailor. At one point he was spending £500 a week on cigars – which was an enormous sum in the early 1900’s. Hugh also knew how important the perfect setting was to a good picnic. When he had special guests staying he would be woken by his butler in the small hours and then (if the weather was kind) he would wake his guests and have them taken on ponies to a Lake District vantage point where a long table had been set up and a couple of dozen servants served a monster breakfast to feed the guests while they admired the sunrise. Meanwhile exactly the same feast was prepared in Lowther Castle. If Hugh didn’t like the look of the weather when the butler roused him he turned over and went back to sleep. The picnic breakfast on the hill top would be abandoned to the rain and the guests came down to breakfast with no idea of the excursion they had missed.

The question of what goes into the perfect picnic is a difficult one. We may be looking for items that are portable – a fine scotch egg; or a Melton Mowbray pork pie; or a ripe cheese – good strong flavours; perhaps a rich fruit cake, but there are no rules. A number of years ago a fishing friend rang up and suggested that we spend a day on a chalk stream and if that were not enticing enough, Raymond Blanc, the third member of our party, would be bringing the picnic. As a line of form, having your picnic provided by a chef with two Michelin stars is pretty good. Somehow the picnic took over from the fishing prospects. What would Raymond bring? After setting up a table and chairs he delved into the kind of large wicker hamper that Ratty would have been proud of. First onto the table was a plastic box full of tomatoes (“from my garden”); then a trough of very rich terrine; an enormous loaf of sourdough bread (which he tucked under his arm whilst sawing at it with a long knife); finally a Livarot cheese at the oozy point of perfect ripeness. Add a couple of bottles of fine red wine and there you have it. This was an epic picnic. A few contrasting flavours and textures. Everything at its best. Enough of each component to satisfy even the greediest. It was also a refreshingly normal picnic, the kind of feast we could all aspire to. And isn’t it nice to know that when out fishing even the most exalted chefs like just the same kind of picnic as you would put together yourself?