Sandwich City
Each summer of my childhood, I escaped from Lompoc to Lake Tahoe for a few weeks. And for many years, the vacation wasn't complete without the Major Picnic. All the families we knew at the Lake were invited to the Major Picnic. We lugged our picnic baskets and red coolers (this was, after all, a bygone era when picnic gear was not on wheels) to an especially scenic bit of beach. After a while, the little kids took off their watermelon-stained shirts and jumped into the lake wearing nothing but bathing suit bottoms. Considering the adults' Major Picnic beverage of choice, I'm surprised more of them didn't do the same. My grandmother's friend Sara was a Major Picnic fixture, not only because she was (and is) a tremendous woman, but also because she brought the booze. Sara's specialty was the Ramos Fizz, transported and served in a plastic tennis ball container. For the uninitiated, a Ramos Fizz contains gin, lemon juice, sugar and carbonated water. I think Sara blended them with ice and in any given Major Picnic photo, she is there, tennis ball container lifted on high, beatific smile aimed squarely at the camera.
I spent last week in Lake Tahoe (ran into Sara on the dock) and got back to LA just in time to catch The Hollywood Bowl's Saturday screening of Planet Earth with live music by the LA Philharmonic. The time came to pack my picnic before I had unpacked my suitcase and I didn't have the time, nor the energy (nevermind the groceries) to cook an entire meal. Luckily for me, LA has become a great sandwich town.
The Oaks Gourmet Market on Franklin has a sandwich menu rivaled in excellence only by their selection of beer. Food + Lab on Santa Monica by La Brea is a mother-and-son operation keeping WeHo in fresh, casual, picnic-esque fare. But on Saturday I headed to the Tamarind Ave. Deli off Santa Monica by Western for a #2 (smoked turkey, havarti, baby spinach, tomatoes, olive tapenade and mayo) and a #4 (prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, basil, olive oil and vinegar). As I waited for my sandwiches, I impulse ordered a quarter pound of cooked salami--soft and tender without being squishy, with all the best essences of salami flavor--and stared at the shelves of specialty sodas. Anyone know what celery soda tastes like?
Maybe my spread consisted largely of items made by hands not my own, maybe I traded a tennis ball container full of Ramos Fizz for a weird plastic sparkle cup (they were only 59 cents at Target, ok) filled with Charles Shaw, maybe the ground was concrete not sand and the sublime nature scene before me in HD not reality, but a picnic is a picnic is a picnic. And in the summer in this city, nestling into the Hollywood Bowl with a mouthful of fresh mozzarella and whole basil leaves... well, things could be much worse.
