3:10
p.m.. Ninety-seven. Heat index of one hundred two. An extremely
cruel list of numbers made doubly wicked by the fact that
the air conditioning in my car is broken. Waves shimmer and
rise from the hood. I'm behind a frustratingly cautious Crown
Victoria. Judge
Judy is already ruthlessly berating her first victim,
and I'm missing it. In a disheartening attempt to cool things
down, I pick up my water bottle and am betrayed by the nauseating
flow of hot water down my throat. I moan pathetically.
The one bright spot in my immediate future is a "Sugar
Baby" watermelon waiting in my refrigerator. It may seem
small consolation to a man whose ankles are charred by the
summer fires of hell, but this heat is precisely why
the thought of crisp, pink, icy watermelon so wholly consoles
me. It's the perfect calming foil for this sweltering temperature.
Before Judge Judy yells her last scathing insult, I'll be
kicking back on the couch with a cold plate of melon resting
on my stomach. The chill of the Corningware, fresh from the
fridge, will abate my still burning skin, and I'll be spitting
out my first seed.
The summer harvest is a rich, multi-hued parade. But no fruit,
no vegetable, no holiday, defines this time of year, for me,
like watermelon. Certainly there are more spectacular stars
of the season's farm stand—more unique or more flavorful—but
none of those so reliably, so humbly, so tenderly satisfy
my hunger and thirst on a hot August day. And they're cheap!
Like a favorite pair of old blue jeans, watermelon is the
best of unpretentious pleasures, the workhorse of summer produce.
And despite all the thumping, sniffing and rejecting that
watermelons endure, it's hard to pick out a bad one. Generally,
if the rind's hard all the way around, it'll treat you right.
You want a good, satisfying, productive thump? Thump the lady
in the Crown Victoria, 'cause I've never had any luck
thumping watermelons. People say to listen for a slightly
hollow sound. I've never heard it. My friend Bob's a serious
audiophile. He could probably hear it, but I
can't, and I've tried. All I've ever gotten was a sore
finger. So, I just look for these two things: a hard rind,
and a nice big pale spot where the melon's been sitting on
the ground. The bigger the pale spot, the longer the thing's
been ripening.
And here's an interesting nutrition fact, culled from new
research by the USDA:
A watermelon stored at room temperature has a great deal more
nutrition than one that's been freshly picked or refrigerated.
Now, I'd rather take a brick-shaped multivitamin suppository
than eat a warm watermelon, but you can now make that informed
decision for yourself. Either way, watermelon's extremely
rich in lycopene
and an excellent source of vitamins C,
A,
B6
and B1.
Some claim watermelon's also an effective anti-inflammatory—particularly
in conditions related to asthma,
diabetes
and arthritis.
'Good stuff, Maynard.
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
So, eat up!
I usually just slice a big hunk and spoon away. I love the contented
crunch, the occasional squirt landing on my cheek. And, sometimes,
I even love picking out the seeds. With the astounding market
growth of seedless watermelons, I often forget the simple joy
of those little brown buggers. I like the happy ritual of poking
the spoon into the tiny soft pocket of flesh around the seed and
pulling it out, the slimy brown teardrop stubbornly pausing on
my overturned spoon before it drops with a gentle, splashy "tink"
on my plate. There's a really nice, naïve satisfaction from
biting into a firm chunk just removed of kernels. Some things
are just worth the work. I have nothing against seedless
watermelons; in fact, I love them. But a few varieties aren't
available in a seedless version and I always smile affectionately
when I find the hidden surprise of a watermelon speckled with
brown dots.
Most of the late summer, my refrigerator is the unwilling home
to any number of melons. Mustards are shoved aside. Jams and preserves
stacked. Moldy mysteries are discovered and pitched. The watermelon
just takes over. And I'm glad. I go through short phases where
I may like one variety over another, but they all taste
good to me.
Although I prefer unembellished watermelon, I've been making a
delicious watermelon gazpacho for years. And each year, an ingredient
gets the axe as the recipe becomes more sparse. My first version
included watermelon, tomatoes, cucumber, olive oil, tarragon vinegar,
basil, green onion, curry powder, honey, and lime. It was delicious.
But now, almost ten years later, the recipe has become the little
black dress of my summer recipes. Graceful and refreshing in its
straightforward approach, it's a gazpacho containing only three
ingredients: watermelon (seedless, for the ease; but you
use whatever you desire), cucumber, and cilantro.
|
| |
|
|
| |
| Watermelon
Gazpacho | I use about
three cups of chopped melon, about
one cup of peeled and seeded chopped cucumber,
and about two tablespoons of chopped cilantro.
In the food processor, I blend all of the cilantro with about a
third of the watermelon and cucumber; this is the base of the chilled
soup. Then, I add the rest of the ingredients to the food processor
and pulse until the largest chunks are no bigger than peas. I refrigerate
the soup for half an hour, but no longer than two hours before serving.
This will yield two to three servings. Sometimes, I garnish with
a dollop of yogurt and cilantro, but unadorned gazpacho is the height
of unfussy sophistication. |
| |
|
|
| |
|
This recipe
is great for experiments. Substitute mint or basil for the cilantro.
Or use all three! Maybe add some jicama. Or you can take the road
I took in reverse and try working toward more complex versions.
Just be sparing with the more full-flavored ingredients and you
almost can't mess this one up. Watermelon gazpacho makes a light
and invigorating first course.
If you haven't already consumed your weight in watermelon, get
it quick. It won't be long before imported watermelons invade
the produce shelves and your chance for eating this unsung summer
beauty will be gone. Try a few different strains at a local market.
Spend a lazy lunch picking out seeds. Take some time and really
savor this simple treat. Mark
Twain said that when you taste watermelon, you know what the
angels eat. I like that. I think it's true.
|
| |
|
|
|
