Melonhead

“How does he do it?!” I manage to cry out, mid-chew. The brighter than red huge hunk of watermelon I’m digging into is perfect. It’s firm, the tiny cells of the fruit are closely knit, exploding only as my teeth breaks through their structure. The texture is exactly what I look for in a watermelon: crispy, and only slightly “sandy”. It’s juicy and sweet as candy.

“Your dad always picks the best watermelon.” I conclude, holding the rind at arm’s length as my last bite sends juices flying down my light coloured shirt.

It’s true. Every watermelon I have eaten this summer at the Lee’s has been impeccable. When I ask Bruce’s dad about the secrets of seeking out the best watermelon, he’s modest.

“Easy!” He would laugh. “Make sure they are heavy.”

Still, my mom’s brought home some not so great melon. Another friend offered some to me that also wasn’t great. I’ve tried picking ones out myself. But they’re all heavy to me.

We learned a little secret from a farmer at the market this past weekend about picking cantaloupe.

Speculoos Bon Bons

My pantry at any given time, is always stocked with basics like flour, different kinds of sugar, spices, chocolate, nuts. I also always try and keep ingredients such as cocoa butter, coconut oil, wafer paper, glucose, geletin and molasses handy.

 

On the uppermost shelf, next to the smooth peanut butter and almond meal is a medium sized jar. The label has long gone peeled off, and to the unsuspecting eye it looks like another jar of peanut butter.

 

I’ve almost purposely kept this jar tucked away for a reason. I only have one of it. It’s a jar of Speculoos. Delicious, gloriously creamy, Christmas-in-a-jar Speculoos.

Summer lovin’

The awesome thing about coming to the market, is we get to see new produce unveil themselves each week. It’s pretty exciting.

We get to our spot at around 6 a.m., park the car and unload everything. It takes about 25 minutes to set up the canopy, table, wind-proof the signs and lay the caramels, marshmallows and everything real nice. At 6:30 we’re ready to go, but the even hardcore market go-ers won’t start trickling in until about 7am.

In that quiet half hour, we sit on our cooler and decompress from the week. We always half joke to each other about how we should take alternating naps in the car. Business for us usually picks up around 10 am. It’s hard to find people to sample caramels let alone buy any before that. But then around 9 am, when we’ve both finally fully waken up, we take turns walking through the market.

I’ll never forget a few weeks ago when Bruce came back to the table after his stroll.

“Sweet peas are here.”