Summer

A rawist is a person who consumes primarily raw food, (or all raw food in some cases).

Now a rawist should not to be confused with a nudist. A nudist could be a rawist, but not necessarily so - it really just depends on what they eat. We actually have plenty of both here in California. As it turns out, however, I am neither.

Don't get me wrong, I like raw foods plenty - love peaches, kiwis, cucumbers, and tomatoes. But the thought of eating solely uncooked food seems, well, not fun. I cannot imagine life without grilled eggplant, roasted carrots, or, heaven forbid, stuffed artichokes.

A couple years ago when I was feeling particularly in touch with my natural-girl-self, I attended a talk in LA given by a rawist woman (wearing clothes) who made claims like, "Raw foods will cleanse your system!" "Raw foods make your skin glow!" and "Raw foods will make you healthy and improve your sex life!" I remember during the talk thinking, "Geeze, the only thing raw foods couldn't do is solve the Israeli - Palestinian conflict. Or could it?"

Whether you are married or buried in The South, you will have chicken salad. You may be a newly born baby down in Dixieland, and your first meal will most likely be a Dixieland Delight of chicken salad – second to pimento cheese or barbeque. I say all this in jest – “jest” saying, y’all, we eat a lot of chicken salad!

This Southern staple is apropos for a wedding, a shower, a luncheon, a wake, a church supper or a hunt club picnic. It is a mandatory dish at garden club. You can be quite elegant with your presentation, and remove the crust (Mimi always said that if you cut the crust off, it was fancy), or you may scoop it onto a lettuce leaf. Or, you may dip Ritz crackers into the styrofoam cup of chicken salad as you leave the drive-thru window at Georgia Bobs – chicken salad can be casual, everyday or highbrow, high-end… diner’s choice.

Chipped, chopped, shredded or chunky – chicken salad is much the same as Southern barbeque in its array of forms. “Mother always chipped hers so fine that it was almost fluffy…” I’ve heard many a time. “Uncle Earl just chopped his…” you may have witnessed this. MawMaw, Mema, Mimi and Mama all have their methods and, like brands of mayonnaise, their posterity follow suit in their taste and preference. Then there is the entire debate about celery. As for me and my house, the finer chopped the better – if added at all.

"Not only did I know that August is National Picnic Month, that's exactly how I celebrate every year. By having a month long picnic on a small patch of grass, by the lake, in my favorite neighborhood park. Each August 1, I pack the SUV with 31 day supplies of chicken wings, macaroni salad, bottled water, colorful napkins - and don't return home until just before Labor Day." - Alan Zweibel

Pack up your picnic and enjoy an afternoon in the beautiful gardens at Anne Hathaway's Cottage in the heart of England, Stratford upon Avon home to the Bard himself, Shakespeare.

Here you can enjoy free entertainment and activities for all the family, and it is a perfect excuse to venture outside and enjoy the gardens at their very best. There are competitions for the best dressed teddy, fairy dressing up, story-telling and children’s gardening tips from the team of expert gardeners plus races and craft activities.

Foods to enjoy are scones with fresh cream and homemade strawberry jam made from locally grown strawberries…the little ones not the puffed up GMO varieties! Lots of white and brown bread sandwiches filled with delicate fillings of cucumber and egg salad and crème cheese all locally sourced and of course lots of dainty fairy cakes and delicious home baked tartlets…yummy! - Carolan Nathan

As a child, I would go boating with my family in the Stockholm archipelago. We had a small boat which barely slept the four of us and in it we and would skip from island to island for a few weeks. My brother and I would hop ashore first and explore until we found the perfect spot for a picnic. As the sun started to set – which it does late up in these parts – we would sit on the rocks that were still warm from the days sun.

These days, I go with my wife and daughter to the beach in Wainscott where we have a modest house in the middle of a field. Listening to the sea we munch on halibut salad, cheese and crackers from Loaves and Fishes in Sagaponack. - Fredrik Carlström

Last Saturday a friend and I spent some time traveling the bike trail between Hackensack and Nisswa. Just before we reached Backus, we came upon a bike parked along the side of the trail. I noticed a man picking something from the ditch. As we continued on, I spotted some wild blackberries growing right along side the trail.

My biking partner and I stopped to pick a few, popping the sweet plump berries right into our mouths. We decided to backtrack a bit to visit with the man we had seen picking. His big plastic ice cream bucket was half filled with berries. As we visited, another male voice came from the other side of the trail. He was also busy picking, with a big bowl almost full of berries. Both men said they would be making some jam with the berries, saving some to crown big scoops of vanilla ice cream.