San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
A salad that screams summer
Berries and marinated melon bring a burst of refreshment.
Peak summer isn’t decided by an imaginary authority, calendar date or even by the heat waves we’ve been having. For me, and maybe you too, it’s a moment, without warning.
Maybe peak summer happened during that road trip up north. Were the windows down, the air redolent with oak and eucalyptus? Maybe you splashed in a river (or sprinklers) with your new COVID puppy. Did it happen during that exhilarating warm day protesting for Black Lives Matter?
The peak summer moment I’ve been searching for is a bite of perfectly ripe musky melon: one that’s oh so juicy and drips down my arm. But the moment has been elusive. I know because I’ve been searching for weeks.
It started at the San Rafael Wednesday farmers’ market. I was on the hunt for Piel de Sapo or “frog skin” melons. True to their name, they have an amphibianlike peel with streaks of dark green and interstitial streaks of yellow and lighter green. They’re beautiful. At its peak, the flesh tastes sweeter than a honeydew and has a creamy texture with a light yellow hue. I stopped at a farm stand where they told me they were between crops of Piel de Sapo but that they’d be back. My search continued.
Another day, a different market, I suspected a certain farm of having a melon fetish. They had about a dozen troughs filled with regular cantaloupe, Tuscan cantaloupe, Charentais, Canary, Charlyn, Crenshaw, orange Honeydew, Galia, Sensation and three types of watermelon; everything but my Piel de Sapo. Down the aisle I did spot my “frog skin.” “One ripe one please,” I said. I was handed a small sphere, which can be a sign the plant may not have favored this melon. With low expectations, I got home and put it in the refrigerator.
A few hours later, chilled and a few bites in, it seemed like this melon was a lemon. It was still green and mild tasting. But as I kept eating, I came to enjoy its snappier, almost cucumberlike texture. It was refreshing, and the flesh was pretty too, a gentle seafoam green. “This is good,” I thought, “but how can I make it better and taste like the melon I want to taste? Let’s dress it!” I told myself.
A few more lines of selfbanter and I happened on a vision for this week’s recipe, Marinated Melon and Blackberry Salad. If I couldn’t find that perfect melon bite on its own, I’d do my best to recreate it.
That meant adding complementary ingredients like inseason cucumbers, lime juice for acidity, blackberries for sweetness and tang, coriander and Sichuan peppercorns for citrusy notes and almonds shallowfried for crunch and richness. The overall effect is a very flavorful, juicy salad that screams summer.
This treatment works on other melons, too, like the Charentais melon, which sounds très élégant, right? Over the years it has become another favorite variety. Its outside peel has a sort of oldworld, distinguished look with graygreen hues and deeper green ribs. Inside it looks almost salmonlike, with orange flesh reminiscent of a cantaloupe. A ripe Charentais melon is a treat — succulent, juicy, sweet, with aromas of jasmine and apricot.
Traditionally, ripe Charentais is paired with prosciutto, so when I was handed an impossibly fragrant, tendertothetouch sphere at a market recently, I was hoping it would taste as sweet as honey. Unfortunately, the aroma didn’t match the flavor, so I marinated chunks of the melon with a lighter, savory fino Sherry and tossed it with basil leaves, slices of sweet red pepper and drizzled a smoky paprika oil over the top.
Perhaps you’ve hit a peak summer moment and had the juiciest melon, but remember you can always make melonade if you’ve ended up with lemons for melons.
Christian Reynoso is a chef, recipe developer and writer. Originally from Sonoma, he lives in San Francisco. Email: food@sfchronicle.com Instagram: @christianreynoso Twitter: @xtianreynoso
It seemed like this melon was a lemon . ... But as I kept eating, I came to enjoy its snappier texture. “But how can I make it better?” I thought.