Picnics for evangelists

SUMMER has brought a rash of newspaper articles on picnics. I have a hilarious one in front of me explaining how dangerous picnics are: if you are not extremely vigilant the warmth and the air will attack whatever you take as soon as you remove it from your refrigerator, and you will wind up with food poisoning. The author cites the advice of one branch of the British health police, the Institute of Environmental Health Officers. These ghastly busybodies actually expect civilized ladies and gentlemen to take most of their picnic ingredients in jars and cans. The author recommends cans of beans, cans of tuna, jars of mayonnaise, and fruit soaked in salted water. Delicious ! Quite apart from such absurdities, both the article and the timing of its appearance are rounded on the misunderstanding that picnics are for the summer and the fresh air. Rot: picnics can be enjoyed in any season and often indoors. And they are often better in the dark than in the daytime. For picnics are simply meals prepared at home to be eaten away from home. I have picnics at conferences, on trains and planes, and indeed in other people's homes--anywhere where the food offered is not as good as mine. When they come to you mid-flight and offer you their horrid trays, you simply shake your head and get out your hamper. Before long there will be a buzz round you in the cabin as you start opening the oysters (they should be packed in damp seaweed, and don't forget your oyster knife: the airline, train, or conference center never has them). Next, a piping hot fish soup (in a thermos) will send the aroma of garlic and saffron off and around your neighbors, whose only smell has been the stench of eau-de-cologue-impregnated "wipes" and their own feet. Squid stewed in its own ink is another good one. Then a cold partridge with homemade aioli, ripe Gorgonzola, and fruit. Walnuts make the best conclusion. The food should be as smelly and noisy as possible, and cracking the nuts passes the time. You will, of course, take crackers, your own napkin and ring, crockery, and cutlery. I even take my own wine, as it's so tedious having to juggle with eight of those pathetically tiny bottles they give you.

The procedure works well on trains too and, as I mentioned, at conferences, where quantities should be doubled and bolted down. Then there is that wonderful lightheadedness as blood rushes to the stomach and one drops off for a long snooze in the afternoon session. I see no reason why picnics should not work on long-distance buses but have not, of course, any direct experience. In all these settings you have paid for what your hosts are pleased to call food, so refusing it and substituting your own is simple.

When you are in other people's houses, there are problems of etiquette. Only do it when the food is likely to be especially bad, for instance at weddings or other celebrations. Mutter something about "an allergy" and with luck they will not press you to reveal it's an allergy to second-rate cooking.

But be prepared to put up with some abuse. After all, half the point of these picnics is to proselytize and teach the ignorant and lazy by example and contrast. Since the most ignorant and lazy about food are oddly those who can least afford such vices, younger readers might consider "Picnic Missions." Simply select a lower-class housing development where the residents are wasting their--that is, usually our, tax-redistributed money on dull, unhealthy but costly food. Drive there, preferably at night, switch on the inside lights of the car, and eat your five-course dinner. Choose your menus for economy as much as taste: potato and leek soup, fish risotto, cold jellied pig's head, homemade bread, salad, fresh fruit. Do not be ostentatious: it is rude and foolhardy. For instance, silver napkin rings can give rise to all sorts of trouble.

Soon the livelier of the inhabitants will gather round peering through the car windows--which you periodically demist from the steam of the risotto so they can the better see and learn. They may tap on the window. This is because they want to take notes and have no paper. Hand them a sheet as you leave with the menu on it, instructions for the meal's preparation, and the cost. At the foot some well-chosen text urging gratitude for all the good things the Lord has given, better use of talents, and renewed commitment to homely duties.

Then it's home and into bed knowing you have eaten well yourself and helped the needy. That's what picnics are about, not avoiding diarrhea.

COPYRIGHT 1992 National Review, Inc.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning