Isn’t it a great feeling to have a really good idea pop into your brain? A literal lightbulb doesn’t materialize over your head, but you might still feel the warm glow of subtle genius.
A surefire way to extinguish that lightbulb, however, is to realize it wasn’t the first time you had that idea. They say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but in reality it can and often does … just like my writing inspirations apparently.
As I was typing up my article on cutting watermelon last week, I saw that there was far more in my brain than would fit in my wordcount; instead of spitting out the extra seeds of watermelon content, I saved them for today, relieved to have a head start on what I knew would be a busy week.
I find it strangely fascinating how differently people can engage in preparing the same item, and how that can even show personality sometimes, and I was looking forward to expounding on that topic. In this instance, I was still thinking about watermelon, although there are more examples, like mangos, avocados, and onions. If you would tell a panel of people to cut these up, the end goals as well as the processes to get there might be completely disparate. In general, there aren’t necessarily any ways or means better than the others, just differences (although of course we all likely think our way is best, by default since it’s our way).
I already had a running list in my mind of a few people and their unique stances towards watermelon cutting: I was remembering nostalgically how my grandpa used to employ a sort of stack-and-hack method that landed the cubes directly in the serving bowl. Remembering with sticky amusement how a local gentleman once showed up to cut watermelons at a church function with his machete, and how the juice and wedges flew. Remembering contentedly how I enjoyed a new way to attack watermelon just a few weeks ago, when my friends served dessert by passing us each a plate-sized hunk of rind-on watermelon and a fork.
It’s not of my own memory, but I was also remembering my dad’s story of one season of tossing fresh watermelons on the ground to break them open and eat out the best parts; that year his family had 50 acres of newly cleared land, supposedly the best for watermelon-growing — so grow watermelons they did, shipping out semi-loads of them.
Like I said, I was excited to write about distinct watermelon ways. That is, until I started getting this strange sense of deja vu. Turns out, I had this same great idea almost exactly six years ago …there went my lightbulb. Oops.
But let’s be honest, I write about watermelon every year as the season rolls around. There’s just so much to share about them, and we are a watermelon family, no doubt about it.
My kids will have their own memories of their mom’s way of cutting watermelon, as I have mine of them intertwined throughout, since they insist on being part of it. They sit on the countertop as close as possible to the cutting board and the action; I am required by law to give them taster slabs as soon as we hit the sweet red, and they scarf down the bite-size cubes as soon as I am done cutting. Juice streams down their faces and hands, and they don’t slow down until I have safely packed away the various containers Benson chose for me to fill. We deliver the rinds to the thrilled flock of hens, and by then, we have a great idea! It’s time for more watermelon.
Creamy Frozen
Watermelon Slush
Good news, you can cut the watermelon for this recipe any way you want, as long as it fits in the blender (and has no rind). More good news, while watermelon season is nearing its end, freezing some ensures that you can continue to enjoy it in things like this refreshing beverage year-round. This drink is best right away so it’s frozen and slushy, but of course I got busy wrangling children and didn’t get to mine until hours later — and it was still delicious.
Prep tips: seedless watermelons are clearly a good choice here. This batch makes two servings.
• 1 pound watermelon pieces, frozen
• juice of 1 key lime (or ½ a standard lime)
• 1-2 ounces coconut cream
• a couple sprigs of fresh mint
• 6 ounces club soda
Blend watermelon, lime, and coconut until smooth; pulse in mint until finely chopped but still with pieces visible.
Lettuce Eat Local is a weekly local foods column by Amanda Miller, who lives on the family dairy farm with her husband and two small children. She seeks to help build connections through food with her community, the earth, and the God who created it all. Contact her at hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.
