Growing up the fourth was all about the Oregon coast: sandcastles, cracked crab, my brother’s illegal fireworks and smores. Being the tradition purist that I am, it’s curious that I don’t head to the beach for a sandy picnic. But there’s a difference between the Oregon and California coasts…a little thing called traffic. So last night we started a new tradition, staying in the canyon, for a ‘picnic’ on the porch. Amy gave in (thanks Amy) and used flags on the table as well as enough candles to mirror a fireworks display. She cleverly placed matches at each place setting so that we could keep our ‘bonfire’ lit in the breeze. I made a southern themed picnic featuring buttermilk fried chicken from Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc cookbook. Ummm…kind of insane. And smores took the form of a pie. While tasty, my purist heart continues to prefer the classic. Why mess with perfection?