Blog Post #14
Watermelon is the epitome of summer flavor, (with corn on the cob and fresh garden tomatoes running a close second and third). As a watermelon was in process of being cut to
serve at a family gathering, I heard exclamations of delight centered on the quality of the melon. I
turned to see a large, and very fine, deep red melon being expertly carved into chunks. My son and
his father-in-law (who was doing the carving) had just tasted the melon and
were exclaiming at its amazing sweetness, as well as at my son’s expert choice. I couldn’t wait to taste that melon, and it did indeed live up to its
reputation. When I asked our son how he had picked it, he said he had thumped it and heard that hollow sound (which I find particularly illusive).
Personally, I
need someone to publish a book titled “Selecting
Watermelons for Dummies.” I’m no good at it. I’ve tried many methods for picking a nice sweet, ripe, juicy, red watermelon, but when it comes right down to it, my chances of choosing well using these methods are just as great as if I play eenie-meenie-miney-moe. Sometimes, I get lucky when I
just close my eyes and grab.
Apparently, my ineptitude at picking melons is emblazoned on my face like a brand. One time, while
visiting our daughter in another state, I made a quick trip to the grocery
store for a melon. Feeling anxious to make a selection and leave, I stood staring
at the display laden with what might as well have been green, striped
dinosaur eggs. I began the task of rapping on several melons wearing the quizzical expression that is a staple of my facial wardrobe whenever I'm baffled: a surefire giveaway to any alert observer that I didn't know what in the world I was doing.
A happy,
friendly, produce man clearly saw an opportunity to display his expertise in
the melon department. The eager expression on his face revealed what he must
have been thinking: “She looks like a watermelon dunce.” He was, of course, correct. Kindly, but with
an air of superiority, the produce man approached and offered his services in
the art of choosing a melon. At first, I was grateful for his help. I knew that
if I chose myself, the chances were I would return home with pink, pithy, fruit
that tasted as much like watermelon as watered-down cardboard. If someone else chose
the fruit, I reasoned, I would not be responsible for picking a blah melon.
It wasn’t long
before I realized my quick trip in and out of the market was going to take
longer than planned, for as soon as the produce guy saw that he had the
attention of a real novice, he launched into detailed instruction on the art of
melon thumping. Holding the melon on his shoulder for the sake of resonance, he thumped it once or twice,
his eyes lighting up when he heard the “ping” he was listening for. A consummate
teacher, he suggested I try holding a melon while thumping away. I’m not a
very big person. He might just as well have asked me to balance an elephant in
the same way. But to balance, thump and hear the right “ping” all at the same
time was akin to tuning a piano while balancing it on my shoulder. It just wasn’t
happening.
Another time, at the check-out counter, the checker took one look at my melon on the
conveyor belt and asked if I’d like help picking a better one. Before I had time
to respond, she noted the blank look on my face and picked up the melon I had
just spent ten minutes carefully selecting via the conga drum method, and
disappeared from the register, arriving back seconds later with a different
melon. “Look for one with *bee stings in it,” she said. “They’re guaranteed to
be sweet. The bees go for the sweet ones.” I inspected the melon and noted the
small black specks and scratch marks she pointed out. It was a tasty melon, so
I’ve looked for melons with bee stings, but have been hard-pressed to find any since
then.
Fortunately, I discovered a method with merit that I actually can use with some measure of success. Of all
methods, this has, at last, become the most reliable for me, and easy
enough for a three-year-old since the only requirement is knowing your colors. You
just roll the melon over as you would a baby, (OK, so a three year-old would
need some well-developed biceps), and look for a yellow spot where it sat on
the ground. (Not a yellow spot where the baby sat, but a yellow spot on the watermelon where it sat on the
ground before harvest.) White means it was picked from the vine while still green , and yellow means it was
picked ripe. Easy peasy. Right? Well, maybe. If you’re color blind, you might
have a problem.
 |
| Yellow spot means the melon was picked when ripe |
Wishing you a summer of watermelon smiles!
© Copyright July 28, 2014
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