Blake Makes

At first glance, you may think you’re looking at just another picture of watermelon slices, but look closely and you’ll see those aren’t watermelons seeds. In fact, that’s not watermelon at all (at least not the way Mother Nature intended it). I’m sorry, but if Ma Nature doesn’t want me fooling with her bounty, then she should make sure it’s sweet. There’s nothing worse than waiting all day for a melon to chill, only to find concealed inside, pithy, grainy meat with no flavor.

I love watermelon, and all its juicy, ruby-red succulence. I have vivid memories of sizzling, hot summer fish fries in the country with my family where at the end of the fried feast, they’d bring out the watermelons. They were huge and ice cold (indeed, they were so cold they’d burn your hands if you held them too long). We always sliced ours first in half, then into quarters lengthwise. When you’d get your portion, it’d take up your whole lap.

I would always eat mine like my dad. With a fork and knife, he’d start at the top, and make one horizontal slice across the entire length of his portion. Then, in quick, vertical chops, he’d create ten or so perfectly geometric, three-dimensional triangles. Next, he’d sprinkle on a little salt, and delicately eat each segment.

Those melons from my childhood always seemed to be incredibly sweet, but since I’ve grown up, they’ve been hit or miss. I do my share of thumping and shaking and smelling, but I haven’t figured it out. How do you pick a sweet watermelon? Maybe you can’t. Maybe that’s just one more thing we can blame on global warming.

Last week, I decided enough was enough. I installed a few of those twisted energy-efficient light bulbs, and considered buying a Prius. I was going to make a difference, so when life gave me flavorless watermelon, I made watermelon sorbet.

I’m not sure if it was in retaliation over the melon, or the global warming thing, but I jerked open my knife drawer and yanked out my ice cream scoop. Five minutes later, the meat from the ‘lemon’ was piled into my blender. After a quick blitz, it was through a strainer and into a large metal bowl.

I measured out 5 cups of the melon water. In a small saucepan, I melted 1 cup of sugar into 1 cup of the watermelon juice over low heat. Next, I zested and juiced 1 small lime. I mixed everything together with a good pinch of salt, and threw it in the fridge for the afternoon (I tossed the melon halves into the freezer).

When the watermelon slurry was nice and cold, I poured it into my ice cream maker. About half-an-hour later, we had slush. I poured it into the frozen rinds, and placed them back in the freezer. The next morning, I put them in the fridge to soften slightly.

After a few hours, they were still frozen, but soft enough to slice. I dotted on a few mini-chocolate chips, and ta-dah! I had created sweet watermelon slices, complete with seeds and all.

It was so good - perfectly refreshing, very melony and quite clever (if I do say so myself). Of course, I can’t take all the credit. My Gourmet Cookbook (Watermelon Sorbet with Chocolate Seeds) got me a good 80% of the way, but I didn’t follow the recipe exactly.

Take that Mother Nature! Take that flavorless watermelon dealers! Take that global warming! From now on, when you buy a watermelon that tastes more like water than melon, use this little trick. I’m always looking out for my Blake Makers. Never fear.