picnic perfect

“describe your perfect picnic in 10 words or less.”

there’s a big festival in amsterdam next month called PICNIC: an annual three-day event that blurs the lines between creativity, science, technology and business and “aims to bring people together to encourage the exchange of ideas, expertise and inspiring stories.”

i’d never heard of it before, but thought it was an intriguing name for an industry event…especially in comparison to the event alerts that usually clutter my inbox: “optimized product experiences” and “maximizing synergies to achieve ROI.”  

i found out about the festival from a popular creative magazine that i follow called contagious. they were running a contest: describe your perfect picnic in 10 words or less, and you could win a ticket to the 3-day extravaganza, which showcases international luminaries from the worlds of design, advertising and academia.

from a practical standpoint, i wasn’t serious about entering because, even if i did win, i couldn’t justify hauling myself across the pond and paying for airfare and lodging, just to soak up the “inspiring ideas”…but the writer in me was excited by the challenge.

“describe your perfect picnic in 10 words or less.”

what would you say?

the first thought that popped into my head was the food! (shocker, i know.) a crusty baguette. a crisp sauvignon blanc. italian salami and artisan cheese. tuscan white beans marinated in extra virgin olive oil. bubbly san pellegrino. and for dessert, a big flakey mille feuille oozing with rich creamy custard with each delectable bite.

sheer picnic perfection…errr in 50 words or more…

“picka-nick.” that’s how my 2-year old pronounces it. he grabs my hand at least a couple times a week and takes me into his room. the warm sunlight streams in through the windows. we spread out his blue blanket hand-knit by nana, and line his stuffed animals around the perimeter. one by one he feeds them with the fake food from his refrigerator. a donut for monkey. waffles for giraffey. “sow-lid” (salad) for mickey. and a drumstick for donald. (i don’t have the heart to explain to him that a chicken leg probably wouldn’t be donald’s entrée of choice so i serve it up without protest and we commence our feast.)

the food is lovely…but i come to realize “picnic” is a state of mind. a feeling. it’s simplicity. sweetness. sharing. whimsy. imagination. an invitation. an escape…yet utterly familiar.

now i hear norah jones crooning in my ear.

my perfect picnic in 10 words or less.

naked toes. green grass. cloud shapes. deep breaths. belly laughs.

love in a pot

for italians, it’s pasta sauce. for jews, it’s matzo ball. for southerners and sports fans, it’s chili. and for filipinos, it’s sinagang (pronounced “sin-ee-gung”), a sour tamarind-based soup that is the country’s quintessential comfort food. what is it about these dishes, cooked in a pot, bubbling on the stovetop, that makes us swoon? why, when we bite into them, do we experience so much more than mere flavors and textures, but also warmth, togetherness, security, sustenance—the visceral, irresistible taste of home?

recently i went on a trip to LA to visit family. much like the midwest, they’ve been going through a nasty heat wave, and our first few days there were scorchers. to deal with the blistering temperatures, we consumed lots of salads, fresh fruit, coconut water, pinkberry, and more than a few glasses of sauvignon blanc.

yet when my parents arrived, the culinary conversation took a 180 degree turn. they gathered their luggage from the car, flung open the door, and my son, bursting with anticipation, ran to my dad. he stretched out his arms and squeezed.

“lolo [a term that means ‘grandpa’ in filipino]! can you please make sinagang?!”

there, in the 110-degree, sweat-inducing oven that was the san fernando valley, my son was begging for a bowl of hot soup.

and, as scalding as we were, we jumped right on the bandwagon. it was no-brainer. “fire it up, dad! we went to the farmers market and got all the ingredients. all you need to do is cook it!”

you might think it cruel that the poor guy, now in his 70s, flew 4.5 hours to get here to be with his family, only to be told he had to step on over to the kitchen to start cooking…but you’d be wrong. dad is “the man” in the kitchen and there is no place he’d rather be than with his family stirring up a big piping pot of sinigang.

it’s a “kitchen-sink” kind of soup, chock full of ingredients and simple to prepare; yet for some reason it never quite tastes the same as when dad makes it. he starts by trimming the meat—usually short ribs but sometimes oxtail or chuck. then he slices the vegetables: chinese eggplant, broccoli, cabbage, green beans, okra, parsnips and a bit of ginger. he throws it all into the pot (the biggest one he can find) and sprinkles in the knorr sinigang seasoning, which gives it a delicious sour flavor similar to thai tom yum soup. for more nuance (and also to preserve his status as the best sinigang maker in our family), he always throws in a couple extra mystery ingredients at the end when we’re not looking: a squeeze of calamansi, filipino lime, to infuse a hint of acidity, a dash of patis (fish sauce) for a bit more saltiness. he brings it all to a boil, occasionally lifting up the lid to make sure every veggie and piece of meat soaks up the flavor. delicious steam rises into the air. and then he drops it down to a simmer.

flavors are extracted. aromas start to permeate. we all breathe in deeply…love is in the air.

we love it. and we love him. and all of that love goes straight into the pot…and down into our bellies. we sit together at the table, and for a rare few minutes in our boisterous household, it’s quiet—save for the clinking of spoons and forks as we shovel in the “sabaw” or broth-soaked rice and fight for the last pieces of broccoli. the table inevitably erupts into giggles when my brother, as he has been doing since we were little kids, gets up for a third plate of rice and scrapes the bottom of the pot for any remaining morsels.

no matter what it’s called, this kind of meal is so much more than food—it’s love in a pot. it’s rituals passed on from generation to generation. like chicken soup for the soul, it’s healing. it’s warmth. it’s sustenance. it’s comfort and connectedness. it’s your history. your family. it’s home.

better with chocolate

not everyday can be a revelation. where you experience a life-altering epiphany. a defining milestone. a brush with death. or unexpected kindness.

sometimes—most of the time—it’s just plain ordinary. status quo.

wake up. slog through the day. clock it at 5pm. make dinner. put the kids down. take the dog out. pass out. lather. rinse. repeat.

like “fred the baker” in these classic dunkin donuts commercials, it sometimes feels like we’re shutting off and going rote. autopilot. same thing, different day.

when i get that feeling, i turn to one of my best, most reliable friends: chocolate.

what is better with chocolate, you ask? well, everything, of course. if you’re having a bad day, chocolate is a scientifically proven pick me up. if it’s a special occasion, chocolate says “i love you”—did you know consumers buy more than 58 million pounds of chocolate during valentine’s week? for your kid’s first ice cream cone, tell me it wasn’t chocolate? have family in town: then the go-to pan of classic chocolate brownies never disappoints. a favorite decadent dessert: melty lava cake oozing with chocolate goodness.

but who says we can only spread the (chocolate) love on special occasions? in fact, during the day to day drudgery is often when you need it most. many of us think of wine in much the same way, but this is a pocket-sized pick-me-up—without the throbbing headache the next morning :)

“take me away”: when i really want to splurge, i spring for a $26 box of exotic truffles from vosges, an haut chocolatier in chicago. wrapped in a gorgeous purple box and satin bow that puts even the iconic robin’s egg blue tiffany box to shame, this collection of truffles aims to transcend with tastes of exotic lands and indigenous cultures. chocolate paired with curry, wasabi, macademia nuts, cointreau, paprika and crunchy hazelnut praline is served up with whimsical names like gianduia, ambrosia, absinthe, naga, black pearl, budapest, woolloomooloo and my favorite, wink of the rabbit.

“a nugget of goodness”: if you’re not buying the opulent spin and yuppified version of this delicious treat, then do as i do most days: kiss—keep it simple stupid.  chocolate, nearly any kind of chocolate, can do the trick. it doesn’t have to be fancy to be fabulous. i often keep a little stash of hershey’s kisses in my purse. when the going gets tough, the chocolate gets going: out of my bag and straight into my mouth. it’s not about gorging and then feeling guilty later. rather, just a little taste, a nugget of goodness in an otherwise blah day. that simple. that delicious.

vosges’ tagline perfectly sums it up. “one love, one chocolate.” words to live by. love yourself. treat yourself. everyday bliss is just a bite away :P