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SONGS IN THE KEY OF LIFE

The Finnish crayfish season begins July 21 and runs through the end of August. This period is open season for crayfish parties, and my Finnish family had ours this past week. In addition to large communal platters of red-orange crayfish topped with crown dill, there are several stock elements: buttered toast, silly bibs, the practice of sucking loudly on the body of the crayfish, schnapps or vodka, and–most importantly in my book–drinking songs.

The idea is that you work away at a crayfish for a while, extract the meat, pile it onto a toast, then take a shot (of Koskenkorva vodka if you know what you’re doing) and sing a song with every tail you put away. It only takes a passing glance at the near future, in which you will be eating between 12 and 30 crayfish tails, to realize that this is a terrible idea, probably invented by some derelict turn-of-the-century baron with a lot of debt and a thirsty streak. The practice is ill-suited for extended non-pirate families on summer vacation.

But it turns out singing can be done schnappsless. Whenever a song sprung up, everyone at the banquet table, a group ranging in age from one to 88, hooted along, even my brother and sister and I, who are half American and don’t speak fluent Finnish or Swedish.

“What are we singing about?” I asked my cousin.

“A pirate. He gets hanged.” She went back to hollering. During another song a few minutes later, I heard my sister ask my mom the same question.

“Oh, this is a true story,” my Mom answered. “It tells you how to kill a man with steel in the back.” I looked at the one year old across from me at the table. She had given up on crayfish and was sucking on a piece of toast.

Later, I asked my mom to translate some of the songs we’d sung. She ran her finger over the handout of song lyrics my cousin had made.

“‘Grandpa Has His Own Bar,’ ‘When I Die (You Can Have my Schnapps Glass),’ ‘The Throat Lubricating Song,’ ‘Jänis Istui Mmaassa,’–oh that’s a children’s song but they changed the lyrics so instead of the rabbit jumping, he’s drinking heavily.”

“This is what we were singing together at the table?” I flashed back to the wholesome faces of my relatives.

“Noooo, of course not. We didn’t get to all of these. We didn’t do this one: ‘If your wife tells you not to drink, then drink and drink. If your wife tells you not to bring liquor in, then bring and bring, but don’t you ever stop drinking, only switch for yourself a better wife. And drink and sing and drink and sing and drink and sing.’” Or rather, drink moderately and keep an eye on babies and make toast and reminisce and eat and sing lewd songs.

SWEET CORN–WHY EVEN BOTHER COOKING IT?

Granted, there is something special about eating corn on the cob in the summertime. Shucking it, boiling it, and slathering it with salt and butter makes an ear of corn a pretty delicious treat. In fact, using less-than-stellar corn and going street-fair style with it, coating grilled ears with mayonnaise and giving them a good rub of aged cheese, is another example of the deliciousness of cooked corn.

And yet, this time of year, sweet corn is just so incredibly good, that cooking it at all seems a waste of energy. A recent dinner out in Brooklyn yielded a summer salad of raw corn (off the cob, obviously), diced onions, Storm Ranch olive oil, and fresh herbs–an idea so simple and wonderful that I’ve had no qualms about just stealing it outright and serving it to friends at home.

But even better, I’ve found, is corn risotto. Start by making any sort of risotto you’d like (in the summer, I like to puree some basil in the food processor, stirring it into the risotto at the same point where I grate my cheese, turning the whole thing a sort of Ecto Cooler-level of bright green). Right at the end, I fold raw corn kernels in, studding the risotto with the little yellow jewels (added benefit: because the corn has such a non-porous surface, it doesn’t turn green in the basil puree risotto), just using the risotto’s residual heat to warm the corn ever-so-slightly. Each bite pops with tiny, almost caviar-like reminders that it’s summer.

AT LAST, PATRIOTIC PRIDE AT TABLE

England used to be the laughing stock of Europe, if not the world, when it came to food. As recently as 2005, Jacques Chirac said Britain was the country with the worst food in Europe, after Finland (a comment that, some say, cost Paris the Olympics). On my own travels in China, I would mumble apologetically when asked to talk about the state of eating habits back at home. Everything has changed, however, in the last few years. Super-celebrity chefs like Gordon Ramsay have won international acclaim, and it’s widely recognized that London is one of the best places in the world for truly global dining.

We all know that. Though, until recently English cooking itself still lagged behind. Now, however, a revival seems to be gaining momentum. Perhaps it began with the gastropubs and their straightforward, seasonal menus, or with Fergus Henderson of St John. But everywhere you look, English food is on the rise. Bookshops are suddenly selling guides to British regional specialties, as well as English cookbooks. Traditional puddings and pies, smoked fish, and roasts are back on the menu. It’s as if, after our long love affair with the honesty and deliciouness of Italian regional cooking, we are realizing that the same principles can be applied to local produce. And this makes me more happy than I can express.

KARA’S CUPCAKES

Kara and Michael Lind, of Kara’s Cupcakes, have had such success at their first location (San Francisco’s Marina district) that they recently opened a second store–in my neighborhood (Ghiradelli Square). Since most of the gang I’d invited over for a recent party were bringing their kids, I decided to skip the fancy desserts and pick up a box of cupcakes instead. A good move all around: Not only did it get me out of the kitchen but the cupcakes were a wild success. We all fought over the Fleur de Sel (a dark chocolate cupcake with caramel filling, ganache frosting, and a fleur de sel topping). Meyer Lemony was almost as popular, followed by creamy Buttermilk Vanilla. The cupcakes were delicious, the decorations over-the-top. I felt downright regal walking into the party with a pedestal piled high with such extravagant shapes and colors.