Members of the Van Hooser family enjoy a watermelon cutting in the 1940s.
|
|
|
Yep, it’s the last weekend in June and it’s a hot as an asphalt road on the south side of Hades.
That’s what makes Hammerhaid want an old-fashioned watermelon cutting.
A what?
Watermelon cuttings were through maybe the early 1970s a social event around these parts ... a little bit like an ice cream social.
Certain individuals were known for their skill in growing melons, like the late Mr. Tom Drake, for example. Watermelon cuttings could also be family events shared “in the cool” of the afternoon on Saturdays and Sundays.
While it is perfect easy to buzz by your favorite megamarket and buy a watermelon big enough to bust your truss, Hammerhaid has a hankering for those melons you don’t see any more. They were round, dark green in color and perfect for cooling in a cellar or well house.
Home grown watermelon.
You can’t beat it on a hot summer day.
The snake-stripe varieties might be more seedless or easier to store in the refrigerator, but they just don’t have than dense, sweet flesh of those old-fashioned melons, sliced up and served up on a sheet of newspaper in the backyard.
It was Saturday afternoon heaven for kids who ate as many seeds as they spit at their ornery siblings.
Men would ate their slices with a knife or just standing up, flicking away the seeds.
Others loved their melon with a touch of salt.
I had my melon late last week as part of a unique cucumber salad served with some type of top-secret sauce in an intimate Vegas restaurant. It was delicious, but could never rival the taste of a big, ruby-red slice of heaven sliced with a butcher knife in a Tennessee country backyard. Maybe the iron in that old, thin knife made the difference? Or maybe it was the hours of loving care that went into growing that melon.
Until I find that flavor again, ol’ Hammerhaid will just be making do.
Have a good ‘un.
|
Email
Print
Facebook
StumbleUpon
Google
Yahoo!