The pleasure of picnics

Press, 20 December 1986, Page 16

The pleasure of picnics

Let’s celebrate!

MAVIS AIREY starts a holiday-season tour through her favourite cookery books and finds plenty of excusses for celebrating with fine food.

"What’s inside it?’’ asked the Mole, wriggling with curiosity. "There’s cold chicken inside it," replied the Rat briefly, dhamcoldbeefpickledgherk i nssa 1 adlrenchrollscresssand ttedmeatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater —”

“O stop, stop,” cried the Mole in ecstasies: "This is too much!"

"Do you really think so?" inquired the Rat seriously. "It’s only what I always take on these little excursions; and the other animals are always telling me that I’m a mean beast and cut it very fine!" . (from “The Wind in the Willows”) There’s a special pleasure in a picnic. Somehow everything seems to taste better eaten outdoors. The food can be simple — I remember the satisfaction of munching crusty bread and pate with a bag of wonderful peaches and a bottle of the local wine after climbing to the top of a

vineyard-covered hill in the baking heat of Beaujolais; the crickets creaking incessantly, lizards scuttling in the stone walls behind us, the red tiles of the village roofs shimmering in the haze.

Or it can be elaborate. For a Victorian picnic for 40 persons, Isabella Beeton’s menu included six roasts of lamb and beef, a ham, various roast birds, several assorted pies and salads, and a collared calf’s head, not to mention more than 17 dozen puddings, cakes and breads, plus half a pound of tea, a bottle of mint sauce and 10 dozen bottles of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages. I like William Sansom’s description of an Australian Christmas Day Picnic: "Victorian engravings show parasolled women in long white skirts, and men in straw hats bound with veils lounging on the grass by a cloth laid with the übiquitous plum pudding

and bottles of indigenous wine; and of the crowds milling on Brighton Beach, kite-flying and bathing and playing cricket on the sands — while besides the genuflection to the pudding, with a sprig of green wattle stuck on top of it, there would be eaten braised kangaroo and parrot pie. ”

My family’s version of the Christmas Day picnic is a good deal easier on the stomach, I’m glad to say, and we usually try and find a more secluded spot than the beach to have it.

Everyone brings along their own gastronomic speciality, and on these occasions we try to persuade my husband to produce his piece des resistance, a sweetbread pate than can also be cooked as a pie. The recipe first attracted his attention in Jane Grigson’s lovely book, “Good Things,”

where she describes visiting a charcuterie in Burgundy and gazing at the wonderful display in the window: pies, sausages, hams and pates, the most astonishing of which was a sweetbread pate twice the price of the rest. She wondered how the citizens of this ordinary market town could possibly afford such luxuries.

In England, as in New Zealand, sweetbreads are not the much-sought-after delicacies they are in France, and we had to persuade our local butcher to rescue them specially for us from the abbatoir. Now they are much easier to obtain here, deep frozen in cardboard pottles in many supermarkets and butchers. This is John’s version of Jane Grigson’s recipe for: Sweetbread pie or pate For a 1 >4 to 2 litre loaf

tin, you will need: For the pate: 3 packets (750 grams)

lamb’s sweetbreads 500 grams pork pieces 350 grams pork strips 2 rashers (unsmoked)

middle cut bacon 2 large or 3 standard eggs 1 . heaped tablespoon flour 100 ml cream 100 grams butter 10 large or 2 small cloves garlic, crushed 2 or 3 tablespoons onion, finely chopped fresh thyme, salt and pepper 150 grams mushrooms, chopped Wine vinegar or lemon juice For the shortcrust pastry: 300 grams flour 150 grams butter and lard mixed 1 rounded tablespoon icing sugar water to bind. Soak the sweetbreads in a bowl of salted water for 6 hours. Change water once during this period if convenient. Drain, rinse, put in a saucepan, cover with water and add a dessertspoon of wine vinegar or lemon juice. (If you wish, use stock instead of water; the stock is improved, but it doesn’t affect the pate.) Bring to the boil and simmer slowly until all trace of pinkness has gone and a scum has formed (10 minutes). Strain off the liquid and keep it for a dish which requires a gelatinous stock, such as bolognaise sauce. Wash sweetbreads in cold water and remove any fatty or rubbery bits (but not the thin elastic skins). Place between two plates with a light weight on top and leave in the fridge overnight.

Get up early in the morning — it won’t help the pate, but you’ll feel a lot better. If you’re making a pie, make the pastry in the usual way. Remove skin and bone from the pork strips and mince all the piggy bits together finely, twice. Add beaten eggs, flour, and cream. Fry mushrooms, onion, and garlic slowly in butter for 15 minutes. Mix into meat and season. Line the loaf tin with pastry, reserving enough for the lid, if used, and put in about a third of the meat mixture. Place half the sweetbreads in a layer on top, add another third of

the meat, then the rest of the sweetbreads, and the last of the meat mixture. If possible, I find a slightly domed top is preferable to a flat top. Moisten the pastry rim, if there is one, lay on the lid and decorate with leaves and roses if you can be bothered, brushing finally with an egg yolk and water glaze.

If you have made a pate rather than a pie, cover the tin with a double layer of foil. The pate spills quite a lot of fat in cooking, so put the tin in a shallow dish. Cook in a moderate

oven (190 C for an hour to 75 minutes. Remove the foil from the pate — or cover the pastry with greaseproof paper if it is getting too brown — and return for another 15 minutes.

When done, the pate should (a) look right, (b) be coming away from the sides of the tin, (c) leave a needle dry when pierced.

Keep in the refrigerator, under a light weight if it’s a pate. I find that it’s best after a day and starts to decline (but not go “off”) after three or four days.