“The proper attitude toward a picnic is somewhat devil-may-care. You do not have to stand in the kitchen cutting perfect sandwiches and making perfect potato salad or frying chicken (although every once in a while an old-fashioned picnic is just the right thing). So what if all you have in the fridge is leftover rice, a couple of scallions, and a jar of almonds? You may have invented a lovely new rice salad, and no one will care if it is not their usual, because you are on a picnic.” — Laurie Colwin, More Home Cooking
If there’s anything better than spending a summer night outdoors, it’s spending a summer night outdoors, in a vineyard, with a bag full of picnic food and blankets. Around here, our typical version of Colwin’s “rice salad,” tends to look like bread, fruit, cheese and chocolate, along with whatever leftovers or sauces or sides we can drum up on our way out the door. Let me tell you, nothing tastes better than that humble spread, set out in the fresh air and golden daylight, while you wave off gnats and listen to kids playing tag on the hill below. Picnics like these, to me, are summer—the very essence of longer days and freer schedules and warm air on your cheeks. You could eat grapes and bread in the car or or on the sofa or at the kitchen table, but taking them to grassy fields reminds you of the season you are in, of the time that’s moving ever forward, of the need to stop and savor it and drink it in.
It was on this Friday night picnic that Tim and I spread out our old blue blanket—the blanket we keep in our trunk at all times, the blanket that’s cushioned us in parks across the city, the blanket with us on the hot April day when Tim asked me to be his wife—and stretched out on our backs, staring up at bright, blue sky studded with cottony clouds. Away from work, from home, from everything, we wondered aloud about the seasons of life that are ever passing. Here we are, 30 and 32, praying and hoping for children, house-hunting, looking for new income streams. We mirror the stories of millions of other couples, other people, across centuries of time. Tomorrow, if it comes, we’ll be 40 and 42; then, 60 and 62; in our 70s; in our 80s; until one day we’re gone. Our lives are but a breath, moving so quickly, even when we want to slow them down, and we’re all busy with our stories and our ambition and our plans. You buy a house; you change a job; you move to a new town. Time keeps moving forward, regardless.
The next day, Saturday, we made ourselves a grape galette, fueled by the bunches of fresh grapes we’d purchased at Whole Foods’s Friday $0.99 sale.
I formed the crust; Tim made the filling; together, we piled grapes in the center of the dough and folded and pleated it around the sides.
After an hour in the oven, the dough was gold and crisp; the filling, hot and soft. We slid it off the parchment and onto a cutting board.
Fat slices on our plates while we talked about our budget. Second slices while we talked some more.
Sunday, before lunch, we ate the last two pieces, and then it was gone.
Rustic Grape Galette
Makes one rustic grape galette, with around six to eight servings
Because of the liquidy nature of the filling, we baked this galette on parchment inside a rimmed baking dish, which, it just so happens, was a tart pan. You could alternatively place the galette on a rimmed baking sheet; or, you could take a risk and put it right on an unrimmed baking sheet—if you do, however, know some of the juices may leak while the galette bakes.
for the crust:
1 1/4 (175 grams) of einkorn flour (or spelt flour or all-purpose flour)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 stick of butter (1/2 cup), cold and cubed
1/4 cup of cold water
1 tablespoon of plain (nonflavored) yogurt
for the filling:
2 1/2 cups of quartered grapes
2 tablespoons of coconut palm sugar
2 tablespoons of arrowroot powder
5-6 sprigs of thyme (pull off the leaves)
juice of half a lime
for brushing the dough:
a few tablespoons of yogurt
Line a rimmed baking pan or sheet with parchment paper (see headnote). In a medium bowl, combine flour and salt. Cut in the cubed butter with a pastry cutter or forks or, potentially, inside a food processor. Add water and yogurt; stir until it comes together; use your hands to form the dough into a ball. Roll out on a floured surface to be larger than you’d like your galette to be. I was baking in a 10-inch-round tart pan, so I made my dough circle slightly larger than that. Place on baking sheet or pan. While you make the filling, stick this dough in the fridge to keep it cold.
Preheat oven to 350F.
To make the filling, combine grapes, coconut sugar, arrowroot powder, thyme and lime juice; stir to coat.
Pull out the galette dough. Pile the filling in the center and fold the edges on top of the grapes, pleating it (see photos) as you do. The idea is just to get the edges folded up and over the filling to keep them securely inside while they bake.
Brush the dough with yogurt all over. This will give the galette a beautiful golden crust.
Place galette in the oven for about an hour, give or take ten minutes. Rotate once halfway through, and start checking for doneness at around 45 minutes of bake time.
About Shanna Mallon
Shanna Mallon is a freelance writer who holds an MA in writing from DePaul University. Her work has been featured in a variety of media outlets, including The Kitchn, Better Homes & Gardens, Taste of Home, Houzz.com, Foodista, Entrepreneur, and Ragan PR. In 2014, she co-authored The Einkorn Cookbook with her husband, Tim. Today, you can find her digging into food topics and celebrating the everyday grace of eating on her blog, Go Eat Your Bread with Joy. Shanna lives in Nashville, Tennessee, with Tim and their two small kids.