Picnic season this year is happily lingering, and better now the blazes of early August have subsided. The Enid Blyton ideal of a picnic — hampers, home-cooked treats, lashing of ginger beer, neckerchiefs (probably) — is mostly a long-dead idea, at least for anyone with a job peskily getting in the way of endless baking.
But what are the supermarkets offering, and is any of it any good? Here, we asked the biggest names to send their suggested spreads to see whose quiche takes the biscuit — or something like that — and who’s on a roll with their Scotch eggs.
The thoughts on this page are based on a more thorough series of tastings than is represented in the video below
Waitrose
Fans of the Trose will remember the old social media account, “Overheard in Waitrose”, which poked fun at well-heeled shoppers with not-so-witty quips people pretended to have listened in on in the supermarket’s beautiful aisles. “Darling, do we need parmesan for both houses?” was an early classic; “Horatio, put down that papaya” another. Granted, Waitrose is upmarket. Amusingly so. It was an early adopter of avocados and remains a white and green palace of umami pastes and egg-heavy pappardelle, Champagne and that range of cooked meats launched with the king (merely a prince at the time of conception). Is it all worth it? Sure, if you can afford to step beyond the entry level “Essentials” range. Because you’d be hard-pressed to find Sicilian blood orange juice, 18-month Comté (winter, please) and decent sourdough in Britain's other grocers.
What’s the spread?
Waitrose’s suggested fare is unsurprisingly both fancy and fanciful. The basics are there, but so too are more contrived bits and pieces: roasted garlic aioli with lemon and parsley (fine, and very good too, nicely heavy on the garlic) and then the likes of nduja and mozzarella calzones (why? They’re poor, dry and light on the two principle ingredients), or a Welsh rarebit Scotch egg (these things are better separate). This might be the Waitrose Paradox; we love them for being lavish, but sometimes they just take things too far. A bit like annoying little Horatio or Hugo refusing to put down the papaya. Good cheese twists, though.
- Sausage rolls? Decent pastry; nicely buttery and not too much of it, so the right ratio with the sausage meat, here excellent and rich. Annoyingly, better warm, which might be a pain in the park if you forget the travel oven.
- Scotch egg? Huge great things with excellent crumbing, meat gently spiced and an egg that actually tastes of something. Not rock hard either.
- Quiche? The Waitrose Paradox rears its ugly head: in the heady pursuit of those ‘nduja pies, someone forgot to get the basics right. The quiche Lorraine has terrific, beautifully browned bacon and is full of flavour, but for some, the texture will be off: “notes of PVA glue”, Ellis’ notes read. Barrie much more of a fan.
- Price? £££££
- Score? 4/5
Tesco
Most suburban towns have a “big Tesco”. They are frequented after five-a-side football matches, on Tuesday evenings and hectic Saturday mornings, kids running riot beside the yoghurts. The company is a behemoth, the brand a bastion of meal deal culture. Tesco is more than a supermarket, but a modicum of much-desired British efficiency: rarely achieved but in full force between its hallowed aisles. And sure, Tesco sells food — just about — and clothing ranges and kettles. Tour its stores and find an endless parade of milk, sausages, microwave meals. The point is, probably society would be lost without the convenience and affordability of it all, however flavourless the scotch eggs might be; however basic a premise. We need the sad blue lights of Tesco: our lighthouse on a roundabout.
What’s the spread?
Tesco seems to believe that picnics need a dose of holidaying abroad to make them work, and so offers the likes of a Spanish-style tortilla (potato and onion, suspiciously omelette-y, probably offensive to Spaniards), chimichurri olives (honestly? Actually rather delicious), and gouda and chorizo rollitos (lifeless gouda, decent chorizo). But actually, it does all the basics well (an excellent meat and antipasti platter), and some of the twists Tesco suggest — like sour cream and lime tortilla chips, served with a mildly spicy truffle dip — are genuinely delightful. Overall, a welcome surprise. We’d expected less.
- Sausage rolls? Fine, if light on the spice in the meat and rather too heavy on the pastry. Inoffensive, except in its inoffensiveness.
- Scotch egg? As average as they come; you’d be pleased if you’d cooked it yourself, but might consider having another go tomorrow and upping the pepper and Worcestershire sauce in the sausage meat. The egg yolk here was a bit of a rock, but this seems to be the curse of the supermarket Scotch egg — mostly, they were all much the same — so no points deducted.
- Quiche? Three levels to choose from here: the regular range, which is hardly a thrill but not bad, the Eastman’s range, best avoided, and the Tesco Finest offerings, which are notably better. The crustless quiche offers a conundrum; one the one hand fundamentally missing the point of quiche, and on the other, relieving buyers of the challenge of the Tesco pastry, which is a dense wall to get through.
- Price? £££££
- Score? 4/5
Sainsbury’s
The adage, “big shop at Sainsbury’s, top-up at Waitrose” is a societal staple in the non-rich, merely comfortable parts of the Home Counties. Sainsbury’s is how true, aspirational middle class types shop, not the media class who all went to Eton. Regardless, we must consider the fact that there are often stories about Sainsbury’s being pretty much as expensive as its bougie cousin Waitrose these days, and how its products have become a little skewed. Has Sainsbury’s, God forbid, lost its way? Perhaps. The grocer is rarely front and centre any more: even Jamie Oliver jogged on to Tesco in 2018, clearly sensing a shift as pennies were pinched. What is left is the Gary Lineker of supermarkets: always there, a sort of fine old uncle figure; perhaps better 10 years ago.
What’s the spread?
Is someone at Sainsbury’s having a bit of a crisis? Its suggested spread included, bizarrely, a tub of lemon meringue clusters (truly horrid; notes of Cif in every bite), and the first suggestion in its “picnic essentials” is a pot of jellied eels. Call me a contrarian, but I’m not sure jellied eels have ever been essential to anything, except perhaps impersonating Cockneys. At least it has the branding right: you really can Taste the Difference, and it’s here where the best stuff is found: beautiful feta and honey filo straws; a convincing feta dip with mint oil; rather good Kalamata olive bread. But, for goodness sake, buy the basics (the cocktail sausages, the pork pies and the quiche) elsewhere.
- Sausage rolls? The Taste the Difference number, which uses bacon and adds vintage cheddar, smells good, looks good and tastes good; not a traditional sausage roll but a twist worth having. The basic offering, not so much.
- Scotch egg? Small, darkly crumbed things with a very slight layer of incomprehensibly bland sausage meat underneath. Its egg, however, was excellent: full of flavour and with a little bounce to it.
- Quiche? “Hospital food”, the notes read, at least regarding its anaemic appearance. But to taste, there’s a very generous helping of bacon — more than Waitrose — and it has a solid construction. The pastry, though, is a huge letdown. So close…
- Price? £££££
- Score? 3/5
Aldi
In just over 30 years, Aldi in the UK has grown from a single supermarket in Birmingham to a 1,000-plus powerhouse. Venture into an Aldi in the early days and customers would find places devoid of hummus. It was a strong and affordable grocer to buy pork and potatoes from but nothing more. Fast-forward to 2024 and Aldi is well in the game, partly because it acts a saving grace for many families for whom 14 years of austerity brought financial dismay. Is Aldi righteous? Who’s to say. But at least there’s hummus now, together with all manner of other food items that help fuel bolognese en masse, barbecues aplenty, and, well, picnics. We might also recognise Aldi’s playful takes on famous brands (crisps and confectionery for the most part) and the wine: game-changing, frankly. Where would we be without its lauded sub-£8 Crement du Jura, a beautiful, accessible point of fizzy reckoning?
What’s the spread?
I suspect the PR team at Aldi has the Standard’s number, as its suggested spread largely consisted of booze: bagged wine (honestly? Passable), cocktails-in-cans (generally never much cop and so it is here), Sangria in a carton (very handy, and decent enough for a park piss-up). But food is offered, obviously, and in parts Aldi’s played a blinder: the Spanish meat and cheese selection is excellent, the red pepper hummus is strongly flavoured and the own-brand Mini Cheddars are true to the original (blind test? Who could tell?). Its non-alcoholic beer, a zero per cent Rheinbacher Pilsner is low-key the best booze-free beer on the market (and a bargain: six bottle for £2.99). Perfect if that picnic has responsibilities to handle afterwards.
- Sausage rolls? A horrid, uncooked look to these, but the bad looks bely a middling but decent offer: the pastry is nicely flaky and not too oily, and the meat is absent of too much flavour, but pepper gets through. The sort of thing to have for a picnic at the beach, when sand is going to get in and ruin everything anyway.
- Scotch egg? “How do people eat these things?” the tasting notes read, partly as the crumbs immediately leapt from the sausage meat on first bite. The egg seemed like an impersonation of an egg: it looked the part but tasted of nothing whatsoever.
- Quiche? At £1.39 for a basic number, it feels churlish to complain too much. The Specially Selected range — at £2.99, more than double the price — does offer a lot more: bacon with a pleasingly smoky taste, and rich cheddar notes. Firm, at least just out of the fridge, but it definitely did the job.
- Price? £££££
- Score? 3/5
Morrisons
What to say about Morrisons? It is by far the most boring supermarket of them all, despite the fact it’s the only big name to have a branch in Gibraltar. Back in Britain and supposedly Morrisons has been the supermarket that cares for suppliers most, the fishers and the farmers. Do we know that for sure? Not really. But being northern, it could well be kinder than the rest. Anyway, our fifth largest supermarket. One that started as an egg and butter stand in Bradford and which is still headquartered in the West Yorkshire city. It’s known for its affordability, the fact it swallowed up Safeway (remember Safeway?), and its “Market Street” section in larger stores, which, thanks to a butcher’s, a deli and various fruit and veg stands, is meant to give the impression of a traditional old fashioned market.
What’s the spread?
Oh, crikey, just don’t bother, at least if you like full-sized things: Morrisons seems to love doing everything in miniature, like the box of 20 chicken poppers (tiny balls of horror) or the pepperoni bites (ditto). More praise might be given to the likes of the ham and cheese croquettes, rather nice, but taken away again for the attractive-to-look-at, ugly-to-taste sweetcorn fritters, which are unfathomably dry (“It’s like eating a beach!” we howled in dismay). Satay-style chicken bites also baffled, partly as neither of the promised flavours — either chicken or the spiced peanut of satay sauce — could readily be detected. Mind you, it’s not all bad: Babybels are on offer.
- Sausage rolls? Let’s not.
- Scotch egg? Ditto this.
- Quiche? Nope, we’re not doing this.
- Price? £££££
- Score? 2/5
Lidl
First of all, is Lidl okay? The grocer just launched a new “croissant handbag” in collaboration with the designer Nikolas Bentel, and has launched socks, trainers and ‘80s-style tracksuits in the past. Why? Merch is all. And Lidl is one of those ironic sorts of brands: so uncool as to be cool; at least in places like De Beauvoir and Walthamstow. It is still a supermarket, one well known for the quality of its wine (try the Deluxe South African sauvignon blanc; good lord, a stunner at £5.75 a pop) and its “Big on quality, Lidl on price” tagline. Does it ring true? With some items, absolutely. There are decent meats; the fruit and veg are fine. Really, Lidl has garnered fans in Britain because its stores are cheap, modern, and easy to navigate. Plus, they’re full of European products, each a reminder of camping trips to somewhere leafy on the Continent.
What’s the spread?
Famously cheap — the business model is built on it — the best of Lidl’s picnic offering is found in the “Deluxe” category, which in general is a solid choice, and definitely the one to go for — the bits we tried from the regular range disappointed thoroughly (this is labelled as “Chef Select” — what chef? How did they select? At gunpoint?). Lidl is big on quiche, and has a run of upmarket flavour combos (say, red pepper, spinach and feta) which are actually very good. More disappointing are the salami and pepperoni bites; processed hardly covers it. Stick with the quiche and the hummus, grab a freshly baked baguette from the in-store bakery, load up on wine, head to the park, and everything should be just fine.
- Sausage rolls? The miniatures can absolutely do one, dry, ragged things that feel inherently sad. But the deluxe range offering — “hog roast rolls” offer a great appetising waft as the packet is opened, and don’t disappoint. The crumb topping offers an interesting texture, too, and the pork is kept moist thanks to a generous dollop of apple sauce. Bravo. The only sausage rolls we went back for.
- Scotch egg? The curse of the miniatures strikes again: Scotch eggs do not work when they’re small, as the ratio of meat to egg is all out of kilter. Tasting notes for this went as far as “farty”.
- Quiche? Whopping slices of bacon lay across this Lorraine, which is an inauspicious start — picnic food should not be challenging to eat. That’s sort of the whole point. It doesn’t help that the bacon is improperly cooked, being chewy instead of crispy. An overload of pastry doesn’t help things. The quality of the quiche knocked the overall score down a point.
- Price? £££££
- Score? 3/5
Marks & Spencer
In some households, they are either Marks people or Waitrose people, in that way people were once fans of either the Stones or the Beatles, or Richard or Judy, but never both (this may not be strictly true about Richard and Judy). Food seems to have been what’s saved the at-times ailing Marks; the food halls are always booming. They may often lack the butcher's counters and fish counters of a Waitrose, but otherwise, they are extremely solid (and helpful if you’re feeling too lazy to cook: Marks is the master of the supermarket ready meal).
What’s the spread?
Let’s never speak of the falafel, and lately someone on the sandwich beat has been going a little doolally — the chicken katsu sarnie is one of the worst mouthfuls available on the high street today — but otherwise, all is healthy at M&S Towers. Picnics here mean terrific meat platters, well-sourced stuff with great taste, dips one might actually want to dip into (the smoked salmon number is notably good, the tandoori chickpea dip is mild but richly seasoned), decent prepped salads, and lots of antipasti bites, from the sun-dried tomatoes that aren’t over-oiled to Greek olives and feta. There’s also a choice of cold chicken cuts and, with lots of the picnic stuff at three packs for £8, it’s all surprisingly good value too.
- Sausage rolls? Different grades here: taken from the “Best Ever” range (read: “most expensive” range), and it’s the full gastropub offering: hulking great lumps with heavily-buttered pastry and meat oozing its fat. They do, admittedly, taste very good, though are monstrous in size. The bog-standard rolls are the ones that taste of childhood: nothing extraordinary, but nothing wrong either.
- Scotch egg? At this point, all Scotch eggs taste the same. This one was… good?
- Quiche? The consistency is nailed here: it has a bit of the old wibble-wobble, but it isn’t a spill risk. Flavour is perhaps a little under in the Lorraine, though that may just be trouble with quiche Lorraine in the first place. Good bacon; less appetising to look at than its main rival.
- Price? £££££
- Score? 4/5
