DEAR ANNALISA, Is there a tasteful way to picnic outside? Every time I try, half the food ends up sandy and the rosé turns warm.
Long summer picnics always remind me of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. In chapter one, when Nick visits the Buchanans, a slow, hazy heat fills the scene as Daisy and Jordan, both dressed in white, languish on the divan while the curtains billow in the hot wind. It feels like summer: hopeful, dreamy, glamorous, suspended in a heat-soaked mirage. I want all my summer picnics to feel like that scene: slow, hot, indulgent and drawn out for far too long.
I love dining outdoors, but there’s nothing worse than warm rosé, no back support and sand as a garnish. I believe in infrastructure.
When…
