Hosting a Seaside Picnic with Local Produce

The Case for a Windswept Picnic

There is a particular British pleasure in eating outdoors while the wind attempts to claim your sandwich. A seaside picnic is rarely about balmy conditions; it is about the quality of what is in the basket and the view in front of you. Get those two things right and a grey, breezy afternoon on a shingle beach will comfortably beat a mediocre restaurant with a laminated menu.

The secret is to shop as close to the water as you possibly can. A coastal picnic assembled from a harbour fishmonger, a village bakery and a farm shop ten minutes inland tastes of the place you are sitting in. It also puts money straight into the pockets of the people who keep these towns alive through the winter.

Start at the Bakery, Not the Supermarket

Your first stop should be the bakery. Buy more than you think you need, because seaside air makes everyone ravenous. A proper pasty — crimped along the edge, generously peppered, with swede and onion doing their quiet work — is the single best picnic food in the country. Ask for them warm, wrap them in a tea towel, and they will still be good an hour later.

While you are there, pick up:

• A decent crusty loaf or a bag of rolls, unsliced so it does not dry out
• Scones, fruit buns or a fruit cake that travels well in a rucksack
• Something plain for the fussy eater in the group
• A paper bag of shortbread or fudge for the walk home

Buy the bread on the day. Bread baked yesterday is a sad thing next to the sea.

Crab, and Other Things From the Harbour

Find the fishmonger, the harbour shed or the van by the quay and ask what came in this morning. Crab sandwiches are the benchmark of a coastal picnic, and they are worth doing properly: white crab meat, a little brown meat for depth, a squeeze of lemon, black pepper, and nothing else except good bread and butter. Mix it at the last minute so the bread does not go soggy.

Beyond crab, look for smoked mackerel, potted prawns, pickled mussels or a tub of fish pâté. Local cheeses, a jar of chutney and a punnet of samphire in season will round things out. If there is a farm shop or honesty box nearby, add tomatoes, salad leaves and a bag of apples. A bottle of local cider, ginger beer or elderflower cordial completes the picture — and remember a bottle opener, because someone always forgets.

The Flask Is Not Optional

No seaside picnic is complete without a vacuum flask of tea, and there is a right way to do it. Fill the flask with boiling water first, leave it a minute, tip it out, then brew. This keeps the tea hot for hours rather than lukewarm for one. Do not put milk in the flask — it turns slightly unpleasant — but carry it separately in a small bottle and add it at the beach.

Pack enamel mugs rather than plastic cups. They do not blow away, they do not crack, and tea tastes better in them. A second flask of hot chocolate or soup is a kindness if you are going out of season or taking children. Freeze your bottled drinks overnight so they double up as ice packs in the cool box.

Reading the Beach Before You Sit Down

Where you sit matters as much as what you eat. Check the tide table before you leave, and check it again when you arrive. On flat sandy beaches the tide can move faster than you walk, cutting off the route back to the steps. Sit above the high-water mark and never below crumbling cliffs, where rockfall is a genuine hazard.

Then look at the wind. Sit with your back to it, using a windbreak, a boulder or the lee of a dune to shield the food. Sand in a crab sandwich is a tragedy; spray on a pasty is merely annoying. A harbour wall bench, a grassy headland or a sheltered cove will often serve better than an exposed stretch of sand on a blustery day.

Packing, Carrying and Leaving Nothing Behind

A cool box with two frozen bottles, a groundsheet with weighted corners, kitchen roll, a bin bag and a sharp knife will cover almost every eventuality. Add spare layers — the temperature drops the moment the sun goes behind a cloud — and sunscreen, because coastal sun is deceptive.

Do not feed the gulls, however charming they look, and do not leave food uncovered while you swim. Take every scrap of rubbish home with you, including fruit peel and crusts; bins on the coast overflow quickly and the tide takes what the wind leaves. Check local bylaws before lighting a disposable barbecue, as many beaches ban them outright.

Then sit down, pour the tea, and eat while the wind tries its luck. That is the whole point.