Picnicking in Paradise – Tortelloni Corn Salad

There is something both innocent and exciting about picnics. Whether a sandwich in a city park, or lunch by a lake with parasols and rowboats, picnics are one of the supreme pleasures of the outdoors, the perfect antidote to a mad, mad world.  Adults become carefree and gleeful, children bold adventurers.  We are renewed.

There are basically two kinds of picnics.  The first is the quintessential American July 4^thtype picnic, usually in a park with dozens of other families, and includes barbequed hotdogs and hamburgers, lots of beer, a game of softball, overturned plates of potato salad and baked beans, an environmentally unfriendly flurry of paper napkins, cups, and plates, children screaming and running circles around picnic tables, and at least one trip to the emergency room. 

Then there’s the Merchant-Ivory-Sunday-in-the-Park type picnic, in a field of clover off a country road, with tablecloths and classical music, French baguettes and brie, fresh fruit and olives, quiches and pâtés, wine served in stemmed glassware, women in summery frocks, men in big straw hats.  Think of Monet's Déjeuner sur l'Herbe.  Perhaps you spread a blanket beneath an ancient oak tree covered with Spanish moss, and see wild turkey streak across the field like velociraptors.  Perhaps deer peer at you—with timid intensity—from surrounding woods.  You hear the wind in the trees, the giggles of charmed women, the guffaws of witty men, and in the background, a Mozart string quartet.  Perhaps after lunch, you fly a kite in the afternoon breeze, or stroll through the field to explore an old barn or pick wild strawberries.  Perhaps someone strums a guitar.  Perhaps during the course of this gourmet picnic, someone takes out a book of poetry and reads.

I love any type of picnic, but when the Spring days are finally warm enough to bare my arms, and the ground is warm enough to sit on, when the air is filled with the smell of blossoming fruit trees, I want a Merchant Ivory picnic. 

I woke up this morning, my spirit longing for such a picnic, as I long to see my niece who is quickly turning into a woman.  I yearned to capture a glimpse of youth, to celebrate love, beauty, and fertility.  To celebrate Spring!

I got busy.  I sponged out the old picnic baskets, and hunted down straw hats and blankets.  I packed a lunch of delectable finger food: cold barbequed drumsticks in tangerine/jerk marinade, tortelloni corn salad, onion quiche, homemade olive bread, several bottles of Mad Housewife wine, champagne, oatmeal cookies, and of course strawberries.  I called Charles and Lynn, dear friends who epitomize Southern grace and charm.  My boyfriend packed up the car and we headed out to Monticello, an area of farms and pecan orchards divided by groves of majestic oak.  We drove through blossoming forests of redbud trees, azaleas, and dogwoods, and came to a large field.  It smelled of warm hay. 

We spread the picnic blanket under an oak tree, set out the food, and poured the champagne and Mad Housewife wine.  Oh how lovely it is to eat alfresco!  Bees buzzing around, a cool wind combing the field.  Somehow the perfumed breeze makes the flavors of food fresh and sharp, the wine smooth and sweet.  A rapture of the senses.  

We listened to Edith Piaf songs, and after our third bottle, Charles read a Bill Collins poem celebrating the contemplative life of poets.  Then we drove around on farm equipment for fun.

I have shared many wonderful meals, in excellent restaurants, in lovely homes with scintillating company.  But nothing stands out like the picnics of my life—in Central Park in New York, underneath the cherry trees in Washington, D.C., under blossoming apricot trees in Tuscany, on beaches in California, at an outdoor concert at Woolaroc in Oklahoma. 

Such a simple elegant way to renew our spirits.  Good friends, good food, good wine.  The only thing missing was a nice espresso.  I suppose we need to reserve some pleasures for the city—otherwise we might never return.

 

Tortelloni Corn Salad 

 

During the summer, I make this all the time.  It is a great side dish with burgers and sandwiches.  Great with Mad Housewife White Zinfandel.

 

9 ounce package of tortelloni (stuffed with sausage or prosciutto)

2 cans of corn (or 8 ears grilled corn)

1 red bell pepper

1 green bell pepper

1 jalapeño pepper (or 2 tablespoons of salsa)

1 stalk celery

4 scallions

3 tomatoes 

¼ cup olive oil

¼ cup red wine vinegar

1 lime juiced

8 sprigs fresh thyme

¼ cup fresh parsley

black pepper

 

1.     While the water is boiling for the tortelloni, drain the corn or cut it off the cob.  Place in a salad bowl with chopped peppers, scallions, celery, and tomatoes.

2.     Cook tortelloni, and add drained pasta to corn salad.  Add olive oil, vinegar, lime juice, thyme, parsley, pepper and toss.

3.     Refrigerate for several hours before serving.