Endless summers and strawberries

Summer means different things to different people, partly driven by their climate. Folk in the northern hemisphere, often struggling in a snowy December, marvel at the idea of Australians in their midsummer, in shorts and barbequing at the beach: But that's the Aussie iconic summer image.

I live in the UK, a group of small islands bathed in the gulf stream, water flowing across the Atlantic from the Caribbean. The prevailing weather systems also bring rain clouds from the Atlantic, so the UK and Ireland are wet and green places. But the gulf stream also keeps the weather moderate – it is rarely very hot or frigid.

Schoolchildren in the UK have a long summer holiday, usually mid to late July through until early September (originally, because this released extra hands for harvest). Most adults have memories of those seemingly endless summers, the long warm evenings, the trips to a beach or park, the games, the being outdoors all the time, the going to bed happy because you knew when you got up the next day, you still wouldn't have to go back to school.

And there are a couple of other things that British adults will frequently mention if you ask them about summer's past.

There are the midges (tiny flying insects that buzz around your head, especially at dusk). The thwack sounds of a player hitting a tennis ball. When going for a dip, even on the hottest day, the freezing sea. Bats, performing aerobatics just as the last of the light fades. Cars have stood in the sun all day, so the steering wheel is too hot to touch. And the food. Always the food.

Summer means ice cream and ice lollies. Summer means salads and barbeques, but for the British, that is June, July, and August, unlike our Aussie cousins. Summer is long, cooling drinks with ice cubes clinking against the side of the glass. Cherries happen in late spring in the UK and presage the coming summer fruit glories. Raspberries are abundant by June, but the seasonal champion is the strawberry, naturally ripening in the UK from late June until perhaps September.

Strawberries can be eaten in many forms, but for me, strawberries go with cream like music does with dancing: Both are great on their own but combined, they have synergy. The whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

It is true that newer methods of cultivation, such as polytunnels, mean that strawberries and other items can be grown for a much longer season. However, there is something powerful about seasonality and having things when they are naturally at their best. As a child, I remember we would dip the strawberries in a pot of sugar (the eternal sweet tooth of children), but I would never do that anymore. Even when the fruit is less than fully sweet, the pleasure is in the natural flavours. Indeed, with an adult palate, I have learnt to appreciate adding a grind of black pepper to my bowl of fruit, which accentuates and emphasises the complex taste sensations.

Earlier, I mentioned the summer soundscape with people playing tennis: June – specifically – sees the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Championships, one of the significant world ranking events. Wimbledon is famous for many reasons, from the brilliant players to the press's excitement at seeing who is in the Royal Box (and what they're wearing). But three other things are iconic to most Brits when they think of that event: Rainfall, champagne, strawberries and cream. Let me explain.

I said the UK was wet (and green), and in June, we almost always get rain at the end of the month because the UK has a mini-monsoon. This is why, nearly every year, there will be rain in the run-up to men's and women's finals and a nail-biting time whilst the organisers and players rush to finish the games and crown the winner before they run out of time.

Champagne? Well, why not. A cold glass to tickle the tongue on a warm day, what could be more sociable.

And strawberries and cream? Well, as I said, it just feels right. Right time of year, ripe fruit, served in harmony with lovely cream. This is undoubtedly the iconic summer dish. It's easy, no effort to put together, nature has done all the hard work, and we can just kick back and enjoy it.

If you come to my house this summer, you can guess what I'll be giving you for dessert.