Watermelon is a summer staple. At least, it used to be. Nowadays, watermelon is a year-round fruit, available as commonly as an apple. That’s the case where I live. But it wasn’t always so.
When I was a child, watermelon didn’t appear until summer was well on its way. As hot days piled up, sooner or later watermelon would arrive. When it did, watermelon wasn’t a food; watermelon was an event. Nobody has watermelon events anymore. Watermelon is too commonplace.
In the 60s/70s, you could only buy fresh fruits in season. That meant that fresh apples were available in fall. Citrus fruits were available in winter. Strawberries were available in spring. Peaches and blackberries and watermelons were available in summer. Now, someone else might discount that, based on their experience, but, in my family, that’s how it was. As a kid, I wasn’t privy to the actual purchase of fresh fruits. I just knew that the food had arrived in our house, whether by grocery, farmer’s market, a kind friend’s garden, or an occasional pick-it-yourself adventure. The rarest fruit to arrive was watermelon.
There were several reasons why it was so rare. First, watermelons were really, really big. A typical watermelon was oblong, not like the circular ones that we see today. It would take a family of 4 a long time to eat an entire watermelon, days and days and days. Second, watermelons were really, really messy. Once you cut the watermelon, there was a lot of dripping juice and a lot of scattered seeds that covered the area. If you ate a few pieces of watermelon, there was a giant portion of leftover watermelon to deal with. It would hardly fit in the refrigerator. What to do with it?
That’s why, back in my day, watermelons were an event. A few times during the summer, word would get out that so-and-so’s dad had BOUGHT A WATERMELON! There was going to be a watermelon picnic! Everyone would gather at the designated place outside. In my mind, I picture a wooden picnic table, although I doubt there was always a picnic table. For these purposes, though, a picnic table rings true. The kids and a spattering of adults waited with anticipation. When the dad arrived, he always brought the watermelon, newspapers, and the world’s largest carving knife. Newspapers would be spread on the picnic table, to contain the mess. The watermelon would be placed on the newspaper, tested for sturdiness, re-adjusted so that it wouldn’t roll, and then the carving would commence. The host dad always carved straight down the middle to cut the watermelon into 2 halves. Next, he used his discretion to cut the halves into individual sections, making sure that each piece had a green rind to use for holding. Then, everyone grabbed a piece of watermelon and started eating. From somewhere unknown, a salt shaker appeared, and we followed the local custom of shaking salt on our piece of watermelon between bites.
Watermelons were full, and I mean full, of black seeds. One bite of watermelon, a mouthful of seeds. Being outside, the best way to dispose of the seeds was spitting them out of your mouth. Shake salt, bite, chew, turn to the side, spit seeds, swallow watermelon. Repeat. The dad always picked up the knife again and again to cut more pieces, take a break, cut more pieces. The goal was to eat the whole watermelon. Most times, the goal was accomplished. Afterwards, we sat with pink-stained chins, grubby hands, sticky hair, and over-stuffed bellies. Adults congratulated the dad on his accomplished event, That was a really good watermelon. I’ll have to get one next time. The kids good-naturedly argued about whose freshly spat seed would be the one that took root and started growing a new watermelon plant right here, while secretly hoping that they had not swallowed a seed that would start growing a watermelon plant in their own stomach. Lucky kids might attend more than one watermelon event during the summer, but everyone knew that this unannounced picnic might be our only chance to eat watermelon for the year.
Times change and things evolve. I can’t imagine hosting a watermelon event now. Who would want a mouth full of watermelon seeds? And where would you even get newspaper? Where I live, watermelon is readily available throughout the year. It is highly manageable in its seedless, compact, and sometimes already-cut-for-you form. I think fondly on the olden days when we gathered to dive into the special treat of watermelon. I wonder how we could replicate that sense of community. Start a new tradition?
Maybe we should have the occasional impromptu “Hey everybody, drop what you’re doing and come! We have ………..”
Popcorn?....
Popsicles?....
Shrimp?....
Ice cream?....
Chips and Salsa?....
Margaritas??
I don’t know, nothing sounds quite right. But let’s think about it. Let’s plan something spontaneous. Ummm…Plan? Spontaneous? I think I’m losing it. Well, if you come up with a good idea, let me know. I’m in! In the meantime, I'mma sit right here and snack on a little piece of watermelon--summer's on the way!