We took a picnic for dinner to the Inn where my mom is staying, and spread it out on the floor, which has seen better days, but possibly not better picnics. At Grand Central yesterday we found delectable Dolomite prosciutto, from Austria, paper thin, as well as tidbits like liverwurst and fresh, juicy white asparagus, and a cheese that lay down and cried, as my mother reminded us.
(Apparently I wasn't too keen on the Wind in the Willows when I was little, though I love it now. Maybe I was suspicious of old Badger in the woods entertaining those innocent young boy animals? ALL those animals are boys of course, except for Toad, who cross dresses! Still, that Ratty could pack a mean picnic...)
We also brought with us from Brooklyn the gorgeous radishes we'd picked up at the farmers' market, as well as some cauliflower and carrots for dipping into bagna cauda, easily assembled by carrying the little ceramic bowl , trivet and candle. The oil, anchovies and garlic went into a flask after they'd cooked at home.