Picnic pas ordinaire du tout

My work usually takes me to either the Orléans suburbs or, what I believe the Anglo Saxons call, the exburbs. For which I don’t think we have a word in French. Maybe ‘la couronne’ which is used for Paris, outer and inner, but not for the agglomeration (shortened to agglo.) Orléanaise.

We are rarely in the same place for long so lunch habits don’t develop. The lunch policy laid down by the boss is a half hour picnic. So we sit down on a park bench or similar and devour our goodies. This has been one of the most educative experiences in my life. (yes, really, I'm serious)

Of course I have not so fond memories of being the sandwich boy in London. The boss had smoked salmon (it was expensive in those days) and the boys had cheese and chutney, with a whole pecking order in between running through seniors and middle management.

I’ve done drive through burgers in the States with the indigestion to go. At one point I ate sandwiches on the Champs Elysées, which I found rather pleasant, but also expensive. I’ve grabbed pizza in Italy and bought buns from the van in Melbourne.

But my picnics now beat the lot. Well not exactly my picnics because,all I do is throw a few yoghurt pots, bananas, apples etc. in a plastic bag and grab a bottle of badoit, before rushing out of the house. My Anglo Saxon beginnings appearing in a disrespect for lunch. No the interesting picnics are those of my colleague. The said colleague was chef in his own restaurant for 15 years, and was born and bred in my small community.

Last autumn every picnic was highlighted by the champignon finds. Yes before sitting down to lunch he would search high and low for delectable specimens. Of course he found cêpes and pieds de mouton. But also many other species of which I had never heard. He has his own little portable condiment array and each specimen would be suitably oiled and spiced. He swears by eating them freshly picked and raw, which I must say is rather pleasant.

I used to throw a tomato in my picnic also. I no longer do that because commercial tomatoes are unthinkably bad. Now we only eat tomatoes in the autumn raised in the garden of my colleague from special seed. He sells surplus quantities on Orléans market, if you are looking for some delicious tomatoes next autumn. Of course he has special suppliers of apples, pears, cherries too.

One eye opener for me has been the importance of the charcuterie. Basically for him and many other French people we meet, I have discovered that the standing of a village can be judged by its charcuterie and the specialities served. If the area in which we are picnicking is devoid of a good charcuterie then we may have to make a detour to pick up one of those pieces of cooked pork which I previously looked at rather disparagingly.(and I've discovered are delicious) If we are anywhere near a five star charcuterie then we go the extra km. to enliven our meal.

Inevitably one thing is never left to chance. Each morning he arrives with a freshly baked and carefully selected baguette.