The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Transform watermelon wedges into pretty summer salad
Recently, my brother-in-law hoisted a watermelon that was the height and heft of a kindergartner onto my counter. Melonzilla was a regift of his neighbor’s regift, in a game of Not It: Edible Edition. He chose me as the final recipient because apparently I look like the sort of person who is super-excited to put down her rosé and cut up someone else’s fruit.
Now, if you’ve ever wondered who pays the price of a Tesla for a deli container of pre-sliced, weak-looking watermelon spears, it’s me. I loathe dissecting whole watermelons. Knife slips. Juice puddles. Shearing round food into square bites after I was told there would be no geometry this summer. None of it is for me. But there’s no pressure like hungryrelatives-pressure.
So I set aside my irritation, picked up my knife, and whacked the massive melon into as few pieces as possible. Instead of wrestling the watermelon gator-style to remove the thick, heavy rind, I just left it in place. I plated the chunks, drizzled them with a quick dressing made from my favorite
summer flavors (more on that in a minute), and presented the gang with “watermelon wedge salads.”
Readers, you can put away your melon baller because I am onto something here. Serving the watermelon in large, rind-on hunks means even the most outrageous melon can be prepared in minutes. And the pretty presentation looks far more elegant than a bowl full of wilting, soupy fruit.
Fresh lime juice is the base of my dressing. Its bright citrus flavor complements, but doesn’t overwhelm, the watermelon’s natural sweetness. Two mediumsized limes will give you all the juice you need. Skip the green plastic containers of already-squeezed lime juice, unless you happen to prefer the taste of preservatives. In fact, fresh limes will last up to a month in the crisper drawer of your refrigerator, so there’s no excuse for not keeping them around. When it’s time to extract the juice, let your limes come to room temperature, and roll them around on the countertop. Use a firm hand, as if you are kneading dough. This helps break up the fibers, and lets you coax every last drop out of the green goodies. An inexpensive reamer juices the limes in a few seconds. You can also squeeze the lime halves around fork tines if you’re on a gadgetdiet.
Adding a teensy bit of honey to the lime juice rounds out the flavor without making it cloyingly sweet. I use raw local honey, because it looks and tastes like unfiltered sunshine. Also local honey is rumored to cure seasonal allergies and boost your immune system, and who doesn’t need that? But if commercially produced honey is what’s in your pantry, use it with the happy knowledge that you’re still making a healthier choice than processed sugar.
Now, you can stop right here and enjoy a light, refreshing salad that is a thousand times more appealing than a can of fruit cocktail. Or you can wake up a sleepy summer dish with jalapeno. The spicy pepper adds kick without a lot of heat. Be sure to remove every last seed, because those pesky particles can tickle the back of your throat, leading to cough-snorting and wine gulping, which is frankly too much drama when it’s this hot.
Fresh herbs add a hint of flavor and make a pretty garnish. I’ve seen a few watermelon salad recipes that call for fresh basil. But as any mojito aficionado knows, fresh mint is an excellent partner to lime juice. You can keep the mint whole, tear it into confetti-sized pieces, or pull out all the stops and chiffonade cut it. The chiffonade cut is my most favorite knife skill because it tames even the coarsest leaves into lovely ribbons. Simply stack the mint leaves one on top of the other, roll lengthwise and chop.
I finished my wedges with a flurry of crumbled queso fresco cheese. Cotija cheese, or even very subtle feta, also works. You’re looking for a white cheese that adds a bit of saltiness — and protein! — but doesn’t taste like flip-flop feet. Skip the cheese if you’re lactose-intolerant. Keep it if you want a delightful, inexpensive topper.
The beauty of this easybreezy recipe is how quickly it comes together. But if you are truly compelled to remove the rind and chop up the entire shebang, consider adding half of a jicama as a bonus ingredient. This sweet, juicy veggie comes alive when mixed with the lime and honey, and bulks up the dish with a happy amount of crunchy fiber. The recipe is also infinitely scalable. A reasonable melon will serve 8 people. If someone gives you a county fair blue-ribbon watermelon the size of a tractor tire, double or triple the other ingredients, sip your rosé, and keep your cool.