The forgotten art of the picnic

THE SUN is shining and the grass is green – although you wouldn’t know it, since it appears that every inch of greenery in Scotland has been occupied by picnickers since the sun burst through the clouds this week. Princes Street Gardens has been awash with a sea of pasty bodies scoffing sandwiches, while Glasgow’s Botanics has also been hoaching.

The good weather came at just the right time, since today sees the UK’s first national picnic-a-thon. Picnickers across the country will be flocking to ten successive picnic events, starting at 9am on Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh (voted Scotland’s best picnic spot in a related poll) and taking place all the way down the country to Devon, whose teatime picnic kicks off at 4pm, to celebrate the joy of outdoor dining at its finest.

Unfortunately, however, the picnics we have nowadays are likely to comprise a soggy supermarket sandwich encased in plastic, nibbled hastily while perching uncomfortably on damp grass and washed down with a can of something fizzy, rather than an elegant al fresco feast. It’s a world away from Manet’s famous depiction of déjeuner sur l’herbe.

“It’s a shame that picnics aren’t as grand a celebration as they once were,” says Nichola Fletcher, the author of Charlemagne’s Tablecloth: A Piquant History of Feasting. “From early picnics before a hunt, where wine was cooled in a stream and a lavish meal was enjoyed outdoors, to 19th-century picnics with groaning hampers, there was a real sense of occasion. I remember reading a list of food and drink to be taken to an Edwardian picnic for two and there was enough to feed 20 people – everything from soup to partridge.

“My husband told me about the time his mother went for a picnic in the 1920s and they left the enormous jellies on a country road by mistake when they were packing the car. They rushed back to find them being inspected by some curious cows. Now that’s a proper picnic! When I go for a picnic I make sure that I take a wicker basket, a white tablecloth, proper glasses, napkins and homemade food. It’s much more fun that way.”

Indeed it is. From its early roots, the picnic (the provenance of the word is unknown, but thought to be French: “pique-nique”) has always been a rather grand affair.

Picnics evolved from the elaborate traditions of outdoor hunting feasts enjoyed by the wealthy in Medieval Britian and were enjoyed throughout Europe as Renaissance-era country banquets. After the French Revolution in 1789, royal parks were opened to the public for the first time, and picnicking in the parks became very popular amongst the newly enfranchised citizens.

By the early 19th century, a fashionable group of Londoners formed the Picnic Society, meeting in the Pantheon on Oxford Street. There was no one host at each event, rather each member was expected to provide a share of the entertainment and of the food and drink. Lavish picnics remained common into the 1930s, but their popularity waned with the onset of the Second World War and food rationing. Today picnics seem to centre around convenience more than anything else. Convenient food, convenient crockery and cutlery and convenient locations. Gone are the days when, as in one of the most famous scenes in Jane Austen’s novel Emma – the Box Hill picnic, where Emma makes a terrible social gaffe – an entire feast, complete with tables, tents and outdoor games, was lugged up a hill for a day-long event.

Andrew Hubbell, the author of How Wordsworth Invented Picnicking and Saved British Culture, however, says the lack of convenience is an elemental part of throwing a good picnic.

“To picnic is to consume not only particular food, but also a specific environment chosen according to an aesthetic standard, and a particular form of sharing food according to certain standards of behaviour. It means creating a moveable feast and overcoming difficulties and inconveniences, not only for preparation and transportation, but also for consumption and clean-up. Yet picnicking is the pleasurable pursuit of a leisured people, so the difficulty of moving the feast has some reward. The reward is primarily ideological: it enables the participant to share a form of eating that creates relationships between small groups of people, natural landmarks, and cultural ideals. These relationships form a consciousness of national identity. Picnicking, especially for early 19th-century [types], was thus a way of performing Britishness.”

So how to pull off this thoroughly British, utterly decadent picnic? I headed off to Holyrood Park, packed to the gunwales with picnic paraphernalia to see if I could recreate the glory days of picnicking.

Certainly, inconvenience is key. Forget a compact, neatly packed rucksack: by the time I arrive at my destination I feel that I’ve thoroughly earned my finger food, so weighed down am I with bits and bobs. I start by spreading out a sturdy checked picnic blanket with a waterproof underside. Next is an enormous wicker hamper, stuffed with vintage cutlery and floral china, champagne glasses, a pair of silver sugar tongs and even a toast rack.

I’m aware that entertainment is key, so I’ve brought along a book to stave off the boredom and a set of wooden skittles, in case I feel active later on.

Now, I’m the sort of person that finds music blaring tinnily from other people’s iPod speakers aurally offensive on a sunny day in the park. However, much less intrusive and rather more pleasing to the ear, I have decided, is an old-fashioned portable gramophone. I picked one up for £55 from Unicorn Antiques in Edinburgh and it’s fantastically civilised.

Now to the main event. The whole point of a picnic, after all, is the eating: being rather unorganised and a hopeless cook, I’ve enlisted the help of Harvey Nichols’ food hall. They can put together a bespoke hamper filled with goodies from meats, salads and cheeses to cakes, biscuits and champagne – for roughly £10 per person – and throw in cutlery, plates and glasses should you need them.

If you’re feeling a bit more creative and want to put the feast together yourself, the sky’s the limit. It’s best to stick to finger foods, and remember to keep them covered. Forget unsightly cling film or plastic boxes, though – use greaseproof paper and string to wrap sandwiches and cakes or cover salad bowls. If you want to stick with tradition, try cucumber sandwiches (triangular, with the crusts cut off, obviously), coronation chicken, potato salad or even jellies (utterly impractical but lots of fun). Your picnic should go on all afternoon, so bring along food on which to graze, such as chicken drumsticks, cherry tomatoes and breadsticks.

When it comes to entertainment, why stop at books and newspapers? A proper picnic should be an event, so you could arrange performances or readings. Boules and croquet make good picnic games and you could even bring along a canvas and watercolours if you’re feeling inspired by the scenery.

• HEART BUCHANAN on Byres Road in Glasgow is famous for its delicious deli items and home-made dishes. Phone in advance and they will put together a picnic hamper featuring, pâtés, cheeses, tartlets and salads among other goodies, for roughly £12-£16 per head.

Tel: [phone] or visit www.heartbuchanan.co.uk

• DOUGRAY SCOTT recently chose one of HARVEY NICHOLS’ bespoke picnic hampers while he was filming on location in Scotland. The contents cost roughly £10 per person and can include wines and Champagne, condiments and dried goods, as well as items from the deli counter.

Tel: [phone] or visit http://www.harveynichols.com

• FOR a truly luxurious picnic experience, ISLE OF SKYE’s ‘Fisherman’s Feast’ hamper is a fantastic assortment of their best ready-to-eat delicacies presented in a wicker hamper. It includes langoustines, crayfish, oysters, mussels and gravadlax, among other treats, and costs £69.95.

Tel: [phone] or visit www.skye-seafood.co.uk

• THE LAIRD’S PICNIC HAMPER from The Scottish Deli includes smoked venison, duck and raspberry pâté, Arran cheese, apple ale, chocolate and a bottle of wine among other items. Priced £39.95, it will be available to buy from Monday.

Tel: [phone] or visit www.scottish-deli.co.uk

While I cut a rather lonely figure at my picnic for one, I was dining like a queen and getting envious glances from the sunburned peasants using their jackets as blankets and lunching on crisps and Irn-Bru. I may never lower myself to nibble on a supermarket sandwich again.