Photo: Joakim Wahlander

The slaughter, the carnage, the aftermath: nothing prepared me for my first Kräftskiva (Crayfish Fest). I hustled trays and trays of the blood red beasts to our hungry guests. The bugs disappeared as quickly as I set the platters down. Two hundred happy eaters slurped and sucked, and collectively discarded empty scarlet carcasses amass. Several Swedish drinking songs and many shots of snaps later the diners slowly wobbled out into the warm August night, some still singing, some still dancing, and all of them smiling. Read More