Al Fresco: The Pleasures of Gathering Outdoors
“There is nothing like eating outdoors. The taste of food is enhanced by the open air.”
— Elizabeth David
After weeks of grey days when the fine, damp mist hung in the air, necessitating the wearing of an extra layer to ward off the chill, it was an absolute delight to wake up to clear blue skies dotted with the odd puff of a cloud. The early morning light filtered in through my kitchen windows, heralding a warm, sun-kissed day, the sort of day when all one wants to do is to be outside, bathing in nature, caressed by a gentle breeze.
On days like this, I’ll move my computer to my terrace and work outside as much as possible, hopefully not sidetracked by plants and gardening tasks trying to lure me away from my inbox! It’s a time when I want to unplug, call up friends and immediately enjoy the beautiful weather with them. Who knows when the fog will roll back in?
Lured by sunshine like a moth to light, I want to move all my meals outdoors too, whether a picnic, a barbecue or a simple bowl of salad sitting on the terrace. What is it about eating outside that feels so special? Is it, as British cookery writer Elizabeth David said, that food tastes better? Or is it because we feel more relaxed? I always find that outdoor meals are less formal, and there’s something almost celebratory about them.
My family has long been enamored with all sorts of al fresco meals, be it our version of a moveable feast, often an elaborate hiking picnic, or a more planned and staged affair. The doyenne of those was my grandmother, whose prodigious and sumptuous repasts left us all in awe. They had the feeling of Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party crossed with Claude Monet’s Le déjeuner sur l’herb. She had the unusual knack of being able to transport half the kitchen to the garden or in the car and make it look effortless: folding tables, chairs, linens, china, glasses, baskets of food—from delicately rolled herb omelets and skewers of grilled chicken to delicate berries, crème fraîche and hot coffee. Having tried to emulate her grand banquets, I can attest that these were major undertakings, and although I love plein air entertaining, I am perhaps more charmed by an impromptu gathering, a spontaneous getting-together of friends, for no reason other than it’s a gorgeous day, or I splurged on some magnificent fruit or vegetables at the market, and now I want to share them.
When I spied the first white peaches of the season, I was drawn to them by the sweet, floral aroma. Once home, I cut one in half and savored its juicy flesh. I mused as sweet juices ran down my fingers. It was an idyllic interlude, and my mind wandered and pondered what to do with the rest of the peaches. This, in turn, led to the creation of crostini (recipe on page 39), which led to wanting to share them with friends, which led to an impromptu early dinner on the terrace at home. “What’s the occasion?” one friend asked. “Nothing,” I replied. “Well, actually, it’s all because of a peach!”
I realized that one doesn’t need an occasion. In our often media-driven-curate-image-hyperspeed-overscheduled worlds, I believe that there are few pleasures more relaxing than to enjoy the company of friends with the sun on our faces, no agenda, and a simple meal to share.
My son often gathers friends together for spur-of-the-moment teas. The more, the merrier, it seems. He makes a big pot of chai; someone may bring cookies or pick up a baked treat, and they sit out on the terrace for hours playing board games, discussing classes and plans for the summer, and generally laughing about the world around them.
It doesn’t even have to be a meal. The French have a lovely tradition called l’apero. It’s a simple, informal early-evening gathering for a drink and nibbles. The nibbles don’t have to be elaborate, perhaps a bowl of olives, some radishes with salt and butter, a fresh baguette, and maybe a little saucisson paired with a glass of wine, a Campari or Pastis. It’s a time to decompress and enjoy being with people without the pressure of cooking dinner.
As we bask in warmer summer weather and the farmers talk of the tantalizing produce to come—of big heirloom tomatoes, tiny golden Sungolds that burst with sunshine in your mouth, of ripe figs that pair so beautifully with tangy goat cheese and delicately scented lemon basil, of myriad zucchini and plump eggplants that beg to be turned into ratatouille—I’m looking forward to more spontaneous, simple al fresco gatherings. I think of them as mini holidays right here on our Riviera!
