TueDuesday: A Tisket, A Tasket: How to Pack a Picnic Basket

Welcome back to TueDuesday: A Weekly Series on Self Improvement (and Self Preservation), where I’ll share some of the hard-earned tips and tricks that have made their way up my sleeve after well over a decade of living alone in the city. 

TueDuesday goes out to all of you who have ever bravely moved into your very own apartment, only to encounter a cockroach the size of a well-fed hamster.  Barefoot.  In the middle of the night.  To all the ambitious drinkers who ever wanted to score the bartender’s number (and to the many of us who have failed, only to bravely try again).  To the pasta fiends.  To the Facebook lurkers.  To the happy, the hopeful, and the possibly hung-over guys and gals like me, navigating the city streets – or the country roads – without benefit of a map or a significant other.  Whether you’re chronically single, newly separated or happily coupled up and just looking for a way to make the occasional table for one a little more fun, there’s something here for you.

Like what you see?  Pass it along!  Strongly disagree?  Say so in the comments!  (Respectfully, please; after growing up with the last name Blewett, my ego can only take so much.)  Have an idea for a future TueDuesday post?  Send it over!  And keep in touch, via Twitter @LeahKBlewett and Instagram @leahkblewett.

Happy TueDuesday!

TueDuesday, June 16, 2015

A Tisket, A Tasket: How to Pack a Picnic Basket

Here we are at the height of summer, and there’s no better place to be than Central Park:

The sun really does look like that.  It's some kind of New York magic.

Even if you’re not in the world’s greatest city (and hoo, boy, do not try to argue with me on that one), surely there’s a grassy spot somewhere nearby where you can spread out a blanket and enjoy a meal and a cocktail al fresco.  So this week, let’s take a moment to look ahead from the confines of our jobs to those blissful hours of freedom and learn How to Pack a Picnic.

First things first: You need a headcount.  Are you packing for yourself?  Or contributing to a potluck picnic?  Leading a small group?  Or preparing for a sunshine-y summertime date?

You snuggling couples are the ants at my single-girl picnic.  

For the purposes of this post, we’ll anticipate a picnic of two (how’s that for wildly optimistic?) and you can adjust your portions up or down accordingly.  The foundation of any picnic is its basket, so start simple and choose a vessel.  If you have one of those adorable pre-packed picnic baskets with plastic wine goblets and a picture-perfect checkered blanket stowed neatly inside, by all means, use it – but you’re probably not the intended audience of this post.  For those without such finery, an old-fashioned backpack is a surprisingly good choice, as it’s easier to carry when laden with a 3L sack of wine slushies (which I am getting to, I swear).  Athletic and hiking packs are also convenient, since they’re usually heavily lined and will wick away the natural enemy of soft foods in the wild: condensation.  My softball bag has routinely proved picnic-worthy, thanks to the side holsters for bats (also a great place to stow a drink or a baguette), the pouch for cleats at the bottom (where my picnic blanket and its attendant grass clippings are separate from the food), and the cozy padded back and straps.

Once you’ve chosen your picnic “basket,” it’s time to consider the time of day.  High noon picnics are going to be exposed to dazzling sunlight, while evening picnics might get chilly.  Select a blanket accordingly.  A friend of mine has a tapestry you’d expect to see hanging in a stoner’s dorm room; it’s a surprisingly good picnic blanket, and lightweight to pack and carry.  On the other hand, a vinyl tablecloth for outdoor use can easily be flipped upside down: you sit on the soft side that’s meant to grip the picnic table’s grain, and the shiny surface beneath keeps any wetness in the grass from seeping up into your shorts.  Because nothing ruins a picnic like looking as though you peed yourself.

Basket: check.  Blanket: check.  Now, on to the good part: prep your wine slushies.  You’ll need about 24 hours’ notice for these babies, but they’re born picnic fare, and have recently become my favorite thing to bring to the beach, too.  First, swallow your pride and buy a box of wine (the numerous other merits of boxed wine are a different TueDuesday entirely).  If you insist on being fancy, do a little Google-ing; there are tons of Not Franzia options, you bougie diva.  When you get home, take the bag out of the box.  Tempting though it may be, do not open the tap!  You’ll have leakage.  Instead, put the bag in your freezer overnight.

That’s it.  Seriously.  When you wake up, the water in the wine will have frozen; the alcohol will have stayed liquid; you will have a three-liter sack’o’slushie that doubles as an ice pack for your bag and, once melted, will still be frosty cold white or pink wine.  It’s sealed for easy, leak-free transport, and no beverage container is lighter weight than a simple bag.

Now, on to food.  Virtually anything can become picnic food, but some fare better than others; we’ve all had a sad, soggy picnic PB&J, haven’t we?  I’m partial to anything relatively hard (yes, I know that’s what she said) and pretty much anything that can be packed in Tupperware.  If, like me, your kitchen budget does not include one of those darling color-coordinated multi-packs of plastic food containers, may I suggest saving your own?  Splurge on a pint of Talenti gelato and you’ve got a pint-sized hard plastic container with a screw-top lid, perfect for pasta salad or, if you’re going knife-less, an apple, pre-cut and reassembled, then held together with a rubber band to prevent browning.  Which reminds me: hard cheeses, cured meats, crudite…these can all be cut in advance to save you the hassle of packing a knife.  Not least because after a bag of wine slushies, you definitely don’t need to be handling sharp objects.  As for other self-made Tupperware, you’re likely only one night of Chinese take-out away from all the quart cups and small condiment containers you could ever want or need. 

Don’t feel like packing your own?  Raid the condiment counter the next time you’re out for burgers and bam: ketchup, mustard, relish, the works.  Hummus is reliable picnic fare, since you can dip nearly anything into it; ditto peanut butter, especially if you sneak a bar of dark chocolate into your bag up against the slushie sack so it’s good and cold when you break it out.  Sandwiches tend not to survive picnics, so unless you’re prepared to assemble on-site (and fearless about consuming lukewarm mayo, which as a rule I will not do despite my undying love for The People’s Condiment), skip hoagies and go a little more Euro / DIY with meats, cheeses, and a crusty baguette or a couple of hard rolls. 

When you’re packing your picnic, keep in mind that heavier items go on the bottom, and do your best to store cold food near the slushie sack.  Along the same lines as the knife: choose finger foods whenever possible and include plenty of napkins, plus cups and plates; silverware is optional if you’ve packed properly.  And with that…Ta-da!  Look at you!  You’re all packed up and ready to go.

Pick a destination and get picnicking, kids.  I’m already daydreaming about spending my Sunday afternoon sprawled out on a blanket in Central Park, and it’s only TueDuesday.

Next week: Buy me some peanuts and Crackerjack and ban “boring” from your vocabulary as we learn How to Watch a Baseball Game!