The great outdoors

I shall dispense with the term alfresco along with al dente. The Italians might be able to teach us a thing or two about cooking pasta, but I have never understood why something as nationally ingrained as a picnic should fall under an Italian umbreIla.

More coyly, I have come across the term "pleasure party", which after all is what a picnic is supposed to be. Give or take a few realities. In your dreams the sun always shines, the oak lends shade and the water is clean and cold. No one suffers from hay fever, there are no wasps and no stones under the rug to cause injury to your hip bone: dejeuner sur I'herbe, at the risk of dyspepsia, is horizontal. Nor do you forget the corkscrew.

But in your dreams only. Not that it really matters. Inwardly, we are programmed to forget the disasters, look back and remember how it was "one long picnic" - just as losing the lottery does not dim the belief that next Saturday you will get those six lucky numbers. Chance it.

Now I'm sure you don't want to read about bad picnics, so I'll tell you about the last of the "in my dreams" variety. Setting: California, blue skies, sunshine in September, a temperate 70F.

Ken Boek, who is affiliated to Fetzer Valley Oaks Food and Wine Center, is one of those people who has a knack of knowing what you feel like doing before you do. So when Ken suggested a picnic, we headed north on highway 101, leaving behind the toy-town wine trail of Napa and reached valleys that are untouched and hardly populated. We then turned left and arrived at the redwoods where the sunlight was replaced by a cool gloom and a sea of lofty trunks.

We located a good spot and settled down with a hamper stashed with produce from the Fetzer garden: as well as the basics of home-made bread and local cheeses, there were intensely sweet, thin slices of dried Georgia Streak tomatoes; Chioggia beetroots that had been pickled with vinegar, sugar and pickling spice; crunchy little Cipolline onions preserved with cloves and turmeric, also green tomato chutney, and dried figs and pears. And big, fat, round American cookies.

It was all of five minutes before we were held hostage by the forest population of chipmunks. We eventually abandoned the crumbs to them, and set off with our glasses and the wine and took a long walk through the woods.

Admittedly, anything would have tasted good on that picnic, but the blend was exactly as it should be: a handful of home-made items and the rest bought in. Assuming that most picnics are daytime affairs, what you are going to cook needs to be prepared the night before.

My choice would be to marinate chicken, langoustines or perhaps some tuna overnight, and cook it just before you leave, so it's really fresh to eat. This type of food changes completely after it's been refrigerated, whereas a salad of leeks in a mustard vinaigrette, or a potato or aubergine salad will mature overnight, if chilled. Grab them from the fridge as you leave and they will have warmed up to room temperature by the time you arrive.

I am not sure why I should crave sticky, treacly gingerbread on picnics, but I do, so I would put making a cake the night before high on the list of priorities. That and a flask of tea for when you come round from sleeping off the effects of too much wine. A great deal gets drunk out-of-doors, I have often wondered at this.

I read somewhere of a "bombe" specially designed for picnics - a watermelon with the inside scooped out. The flesh is pressed through a sieve and the shell is refilled with rum, vodka and a touch of Cointreau, topped up with a little melon puree. Or did I dream it?

Devilled Drumsticks, makes 12

The chilli sauce should not be the devastatingly hot Tabasco type, but the milder Thai variety you should find next to the soy sauce. If you are in any doubt about the strength of your chilli sauce, add it gradually to the marinade to taste.

12 drumsticks

Marinade

6 tbsp groundnut oil

3 tbsp tomato ketchup

3 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

2 heaped tsp Dijon mustard

3 tsp chilli sauce

1 tbsp dark brown sugar

112 tsp salt

2 tbsp white wine vinegar

juice of I lemon

1 tbsp grated ginger

1 tbsp minced garlic

Blend all the ingredients for the marinade in an airtight container large enough to hold the drumsticks. Add these and coat thoroughly with the marinade. Leave in the fridge overnight. Baste once.

Heat the oven to 220C (fan oven)/230C (electric oven)/450F/Gas Mark 8. Lay the drumsticks on a rack so they sit above a baking tray and spoon over a little of the marinade - cook for 25-30 minutes, until the outside is golden and caramelised at the edges. These can be eaten hot or cold.

Parma ham rolled with roasted Leeks, serves 4 (makes 12)

For vegetarians, make the leek salad and sprinkle with the finely chopped yolk of two hard-boiled eggs, and the finely chopped white of one of them.

7oz/200g air-dried ham, or 12 slices (Parma, Bayonne, Serrano, etc)

Leek Salad

1 34Ib/800g leeks, trimmed weight

5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

2 tbsp white wine

sea salt, black pepper

2 tsp red wine vinegar

12 tsp Dijon mustard

Preheat the oven to 180C (fan oven)/190C (electric oven)/375 F/Gas Mark 5. Remove the outer layer of the leeks, or more if you can see dirt trapped. Place in a baking dish, pour over 3 tablespoons of the oil and the wine, season and bake for 50 minutes.

Once cool enough to handle, slit the leeks to remove the cooked centre and discard the dried outer layer, cut the leeks lengthwise into thin 2"/5cm strips. Blend the vinegar with the mustard and seasoning, add the remaining oil and roasting juices. Pour the dressing over the leeks, cover and chill, ideally overnight.

Before leaving for the picnic, roll some of the leek strips in a slice of ham. Repeat using all the leeks and ham and transport in a covered container.

Rhubarb Gingerbread, makes 1x12"/30.5cm loaf

Gingerbread is divinely sticky and relentlessly sweet, a little rhubarb provides a tart balance. Eat this in thick slices with a spoon of clotted cream in the centre.

4oz/110g dark muscovado sugar

4oz/110g unsalted butter

4oz/110g golden syrup

4oz/110g black treacle

8oz/225g plain flour

12 tsp bicarbonate of soda

1 heaped tsp ground ginger

1 heaped tsp ground cinnamon

2 eggs, beaten

2 tbsp milk

4oz/110g rhubarb, cut into 112"/3.5cm pieces

2 tbsp jam (apricot or raspberry)

3oz/75g icing sugar, sieved

juice of 1 lemon

Preheat the oven to 160C (fan oven)/170C (electric oven) 325F/Gas Mark 3. Place the sugar, butter, syrup and treacle in a saucepan and heat gently until they are liquid and smooth - whisk if necessary. Sieve together the flour, bicarbonate of soda, the ginger and cinnamon in a bowl. Add the melted ingredients and blend. Then add the eggs and the milk.

Butter a 12"/30.5cm loaf tin and line the base with paper parchment. Spoon the mixture into the prepared tin, and arrange the rhubarb pieces so they form Vs down the length. Bake for 55 minutes. Turn the oven up to its highest setting, turn the cake out, rest it on its side and let it cool for about 15 minutes.

Place the cake on an oven tray. Heat the jam in a small saucepan until it liquefies, if necessary sieve it, then paint the top and sides of the cake. Gradually blend the Iemon juice and icing sugar together until you have a thin, smooth icing and pour this over the top of the cake, the excess will run down into the tray. Place in the oven for 15 seconds, remove and, once cool, store in an airtight container