Don’t take Thai on a picnic

In the summer months, who wants to sit inside a restaurant at dinnertime when the great outdoors beckons? What could be better than getting a carry-out or toting a meal from home and finding a picnic table in a serene setting with a view of a garden, evergreens, a lake, a river or at least away from traffic?

photo by Liz Cezat

My last three attempts at doing a picnic dinner were less than ideal. The first time, my boyfriend Keith and I took a little blue cooler packed with our homemade dinner of pasta and strawberry shortcake with real whipped cream and sought to find a picnic table along Hines Park, which is a 19-mile oasis of greenery in Wayne County, Michigan, with a sidewalk and bike lane that stretches from Dearborn to Northville. We drove for several miles along Hines before even coming across a picnic table. We got the last one overlooking Newburg Lake. It was near trees, which was cool, but it was a bit too close to the rowdy family next to us. So much for a romantic picnic.

The second time, we picked up fantastic Mexican food – a burrito this side of heaven and a couple of delectable grilled fish tacos from LasCazuelas in Southfield. We proceeded down the road to Catalpa Oaks Park, which is really a park designed for sports with very few trees. How is it that I missed the pavilion of picnic tables located on a concrete slab with no scenic view? Keith saw it and mentioned it to me, but apparently it didn’t register. After all, he is British and sometimes things get lost in translation. Seemingly clueless about that, I saw a set of short bleachers facing the softball field that no one was playing on. That would be our dinner spot.

I set a vibrant tablecloth upon the bench and we sat down on the lower bench facing the taller one that served as our table. Across the dirt parking lot, we could see the tall neighborhood trees. For me, a good park must have at least one grove of trees. This one was lacking a verdant tree canopy. A bonus was the group of 20 or so bicyclists that rode across the street from the park – providing us with some colorful entertainment in a blur of bright jerseys and toned legs turning the wheels. Another bonus was having a couple icy Bell’s beers in the cooler, complementing the phenomenal good eats.

 The third choice, and probably the worst, was my bright idea to get Thai carry-out from the Thai Café in Royal Oak and then eat it at the park near the library where a concert would be going on. My order of pad something or other was placed in an oblong Styrofoam container. Keith’s choice was more compact and served in a large Chinese take-out cardboard container. He carried the plastic bag with three containers – two entrees and a bucket of rice. Darn, they forgot the spring rolls.

Getting to the library, we heard no music, which was strange. There was no band set up and not a soul in sight, even at 7 p.m. I had gotten the day of the concert wrong. We had the mini park to ourselves.

The lush green lawn beckoned. Keith wanted to be by the narrow cement walk that bordered the spectacular garden area, so we could put our food down. The garden had a broad assortment of flowers of varying heights and colors – no mass plantings here. Good choice, I thought. We could set up our camp chairs and set the food down on the aforementioned vibrant tablecloth.

Keith could easily pick up his Chinese-style carton and nosh on his selection of chicken and hot green beans in red curry sauce. But I had an unsteady container of chicken, eggplant and cabbage soaked in brown sauce that had seeped out and left a reddish stain on the plastic bag. I couldn’t just pick it up and eat from it. The chicken and vegetables happily swam in the sauce and threatened to spill without advance notice. Did I mention that I had white jeans on? There was no way I was going to set that dish on my lap and eat from it. I would be walking around the hip town of Royal Oak where 60-year-olds are like dinosaurs to begin with, and broadcast my age by day-glow reddish spots on white jeans. “Look everyone, I can’t eat without making a mess.” Thankfully, that didn’t happen.

I spotted sturdy benches under a grove of trees (oh how I like trees), which seemed like an ideal place to set down the tablecloth and have it serve as our table. We moved our stuff and pulled our camp chairs up to the bench. (I am not making this up.) When the meal had been successfully eaten, I poured my leftovers into Keith’s empty Chinese-style container so we could carry it back.

Truly, I had been tempted to dump the remainder of it into the nearest garbage bin because it had been so hard to eat. However, the next day, I was delighted with my decision to hold onto that leftover dinner because, I swear to God, it was even better for lunch. The sauce had marinated the chicken and vegetables overnight, so it was bursting with flavor. Aah, this is why people eat out. I could never make it that good at home. I was so happy that I hadn’t thrown it away.

Where will our next outdoor dining adventure be? Well, I decided to go one better. Since we’re so good at picnics, we're going to ramp it up a bit by going camping.