“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. Continue reading
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