At least you can pick up a melon, right?

I’ve been trying to pick a good melon most of my adult life. I’ve asked farmers, watched videos, consulted perky produce people to learn how to make sure this thing you can’t see into at all, like a mystery waiting to be unfurled, somehow delivers oohs and aahs when you whack it like a festive piñata.

As kids we learn you can’t judge a book by its cover, that beauty’s only skin deep, that life must be experienced from within not looked at from without. All these truisms mean nothing when it comes to cantaloupes, honeydews and those coveted slabs of giant red fruit that end any decent barbeque.

With all the important stuff in life right now, I’m embarrassed to admit I can get overripe myself when a melon doesn’t go my way. It’s yet another reminder of the limits of our control but I’m determined, at least on this tiny score, to exert my power.

“Not again,” I moan after my latest cannonball went under the knife and turned out to be mush. “I thought I followed the rules.”

If you too find yourself counting on the little things more than ever, like bringing a round child of the earth into your home, I’d like to offer these tips if a spoiled fruit spoils your calm veneer. You know, the one we’re pretending to have.

The Look and See Test

Can you grab a dull melon when your whole life has been focused on shiny? Yes you can. Dull is right for watermelon and honeydew, not so much for cantaloupe which should look like an alien spider had its way. Buttery yellow is the best color for honeydew, sandy gold for cantaloupe, and for watermelon a creamy yellow not whitish belly, that place where it sat on the ground. Bring color swatches to the store.

The Sniff Test

A melon demands to be smelled. I try to sniff through my mask but certainly not “get my nose right in there” like one expert says I shoul d do. This is tricky now. If you can smell it, the end should be sweet but not too sweet. Confused? Don’t ask my husband who treats melon like a flat tire and refuses to ask for help. I always ask for help but get answers like “We’ve been selling a lot of them,” which should always make you go buy peaches.

The Touch Test

The part of the melon opposite the stem end is called the blossom end. It should be slightly soft and springy. But not too soft. It should also feel heavy, heavier than its pals, so cuddle it a bit. Watch for any places your thumb slides in like a screwdriver. If it’s honeydew, unlike watermelon, it shouldn’t feel too smooth, more like tacky with little ridges — but not as ridge-y as cantaloupe — and one expert says it should feel waxy rather than dusky. No one I ask at the market has any idea what that means.

The Sound Test

You can’t do this with all fruit, but go for it with watermelon. When you tap it, it should give a plunk not a thwack, and definitely not a high-pitched whine which means under ripe or a thud which means overripe. I thunk, I mean I think. To become an expert, practice thumping the melon king whenever one conveniently rolls in your direction.

Unfortunately, the one human sense you can’t indulge is the taste test, the most important of all, unless you have a lovely clerk who will give you a chunk. Even though it’s not from the melon you’ll ultimately buy.

Then all you have to do when you get your baby home is decide when to cut it open. The rule is this: Wait enough time, but not too much time. Got it?

It’s good to have control over something.