Backstory: I love eating outside: a picnic in the park, dinner under the stars, morning tea on the front porch. When I lived in Southern California, all three meals might be enjoyed outside at my little bistro table, and in the summers I hosted the occasional dinner party under my flowering crepe myrtle tree. Bliss. Now that I live in San Francisco, the colder weather makes this less appealing, and I’ve missed it.

Also, when I’ve traveled in Europe, I’ve appreciated the ritual of transition between working hours and the dinner hour. Some of my favorite meals in France were preceded by a glass of wine, good bread, and bowls of olives and goat cheese, plus light conversation. Too often at home I go straight from the stress at my desk to the scramble of dinner prep, to scarfing down dinner, to collapsing into bed.

There has to be a better way.