Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Fruits of Summer

Now would probably be a good time to mention that I love watermelon. Now that I think about it, I think I love it just as much as I love corn on the cob, but in a different way. Which is why this morning, when I was at Safeway, I heaved one giant watermelon out of the bin and added it to my cart with the milk and bread. Milk, bread, watermelon, diet pepsi. What more does a girl need?

Apparently, more people living in her house. Because now, after I’ve just spent 30 minutes butchering the enormous melon down to manageable pieces*, juices spraying everywhere and pooling on my counter and dripping down the sides, I have three huge containers of the sweet red fruit. Not that I’m complaining, but this is one of those moments where I think to myself, hey, maybe I over-bought? I guess I could have just gotten a half of a melon or one of those pre-cut containers that would last a few days rather than over a week, but to be quite honest, those just don’t taste the same. It’s like once you cut into the watermelon, it loses all those sweet juices completely, unlike when you hack it up yourself, when you only lose some of the sweet juices, and that’s just because countertops are magnets for things like watermelon juice, and you still get some off the juice when you toss it all in a Ziplock container, making it that much sweeter.

Did anyone else’s dad carve baskets out of whole watermelons? Because mine did. It was one of my favorite things when I was little, because he didn’t do it very often, but when he did, it was awesome. And once it was all carved we’d fill it with fruit salad. Mom was at a store one day, though, and found a glass bowl that was made to look like a carved watermelon basket, and we’ve used that ever since. And as far as I know, Dad has never carved another watermelon. Bummer, though I remember the process as being very time consuming, what with having to cut the melon specs first, scoop out the insides (usually with a melon baller) before the carving part could even begin. So maybe not a bummer that we now have this glass basket, as not only did it save time, but I’m sure a lot of grumbling from Dad.

*I had a moment, at that point, where I wondered if this was somewhat akin to butchering a cow, cutting each slab into more manageable pieces, and then cutting those pieces into neat, bite-sized, presentable bits that people want to eat. Though I doubt butchering a cow smells as pretty.

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