The Field of My Dreams
July 2009

“If you set it, they will come!” The voice whispers, as I sit alone at my picnic table, contemplating the summer months that lie ahead. I give the spirit some thought and quickly justify its challenging premonition: If it worked for Ray Kinsella in the1989 film Field of Dreams, when an encouraging voice instructed him “if he built it, they will come” certainly, that kind of thinking will work for me as well!

When they come, I will make them their favorite foods! For the pilot from Spokane who will fly in with my favorite barista on his wings, I will bake Pecan Pie, churn White Chocolate Ice Cream, spear Kabobs and toss Anne’s Dill Pasta. For the clever fashion designer from New Jersey, who will strut her way to my tasteful table, I will grill Marinated Salmon and garnish it with Roasted Corn Salsa. For the “golf maniac” who has been putting her way around my green this summer, Steak and Roasted Sweet Peppers will keep her in a fair way. For the prettiest Executive Assistant in San Francisco, Cheesecake with warm Blueberry Compote will satisfy her home sick craving. Last, but never the least, for the handsome painter, who is painting his way to college this fall, triple-decker Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches, Chocolate Chip Cookies and a big glass of cold milk will, undoubtedly, satisfy his 6’2” appetite.

So out of my field and into the shelter of my kitchen, I will retreat and culinarily prepare my all American picnic for my all American family…but, in the way of the French! Truth be told, the “piquenique” (meaning potluck) in its authenticity, dates back to the 1600’s when the French founded this manner of dining that they called “a pleasure excursion where a meal could be eaten outdoors and ideally in a beautiful setting”. The “piquenique” actually, did not translate to English as “picnic” until the mid 1700’s and did not make its way into the English language until approximately the 1800’s. Even then the outdoor concept of a picnic did not find its way to America until the 19^th century.

The All American Picnic (however, classically French) as we know it today has come a long way. Either planned or impromptu meals of happenstance, picnics are American in every characteristic of the same freedom of choice that defines this country. We can choose the foods we serve, our dining partners and the venue. Whether it is prepared at home and served on a blanket in a park, artfully presented in a basket of gourmet delights or served on fine linen and china, the picnic gathers in and befriends all who partake. It can be of ethnic cuisine shared by extended family at an urban riverfront location or a boxed lunch purchased at a convenience store and consumed on a beach. It can be a simple meal of bread, cheese and grapes shared at an outdoor music concert or ham and cheese sandwiches shared by a family along a roadside rest while traveling. It can be a child serving imaginary cakes to stuffed animals under the protective branches of a backyard tree; or, respectfully, it can be the President of the United States, sharing a Blue Moon with a college professor and a police officer under the protective branches of an oak tree on the lawn of The White House, in an attempt to make peace. Picnics, though social in nature are personal. They define who we are, as well as where we have come from. They are the most sincere of all defined meals: simple, yet grandiose, celebrations of human spirit, culinary diversity and adventure.

So, if I set it…I know they will come, to “piquenique” with their mother in the field of her dreams. A potluck of careers and educations, gathered around a potluck of their favorite foods, lovingly prepared and displayed on an old and weathered table, its years of splintering disguised with nothing less than a classic red and white checked table cloth! Now, I wonder if I owe that to the French! Bon Appetit, my friends!