It’s watermelon season again. It’s both convenient and thoughtful for the watermelon plant to provide such a hydration-rich and refreshing option during the hot months of summer. I can’t imagine pumpkin going over quite as well were it to be in season this time of year.
My children and I were at the pool today in the over ninety-degree weather with a full container of cut up watermelon slices to eat during swimming breaks. As an adult, I take more breaks than my children, mostly because I don’t have the same enthusiasm for bouncing up and down in the water, chasing after dive sticks and kicking around on noodles that they do. That, and I tend to spend lots of time talking to the other adults present.
When the children do get out for snack, which is commonly by mandate from me, they can go through quite a bit of food and drink. Today we had most of a small watermelon, none of which came home with us.
As the children were getting back into the pool I looked at all the rinds left on the table and had a memory from my childhood of pickled watermelon rinds. We ate a lot of watermelon when I was young, but I think my mother made pickled rinds only once after a recommendation from her sister or a friend. I wasn’t a huge fan of pickles at the time but she said she thought I might like them if I tried them.
Regardless of their final taste, I was interested in what happened to make the pickled rinds. She and I (or mostly my mother) cut up the watermelon making sure to leave a small bit of the pink part on the rind. She removed the outer peel with a peeler you’d use on an apple. Then…and this is where it gets fuzzy…the rinds were pickled. That part of the process I have no memory of at all. I don’t know if there was cooking involved or not, what any of the ingredients were, how much we made and how we stored them. I don’t even remember if they were done that day or it took a month of sitting on a shelf before we could try them.
I’ve looked up some recipes online now and by the simple act of reading those instructions, I believe I remember more than I actually do—which is the main reason I don’t look things up before I write about memories here—memory contamination.
I don’t know if the process was different when I was a child, but the ingredients in the recipes didn’t look different than what we would likely have used then, which means the pickled watermelon rinds would have been ready the next day.
Did I like them? I definitely did. They were tart but had a hint of sweet. They were crunchy and juicy and full of flavor. I’d like to tell you I remember them having notes of allspice and star anise, but that is utterly false because I read about those ingredients earlier today and am suffering from another issue—memory implantation.
I think I’m going to try and make some pickled watermelon rinds and see if they’re as good as I remember them. I wonder which of my children will like them?
The Big Boy Update: My son came into out bedroom this morning and said, “I want to learn about animals.” After I told him I thought learning about animals was a good thing to want to do, he asked me, “can I watch Wild Kratts?” I told him that would be fine. Wild Kratts is a show featuring the Kratt brothers in which they explore various animals and the amazing things they can do (gecko, octopus, scorpion, etc.)
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter had her first burrito accident yesterday. She likes to be wrapped up like a burrito in her towel, which is great, only you have no use of your arms. She decided to then lie down on the pool deck and was unable to maneuver herself down in inchworm fashion without falling forward and bumping her face. It wasn’t bad, I’m still not sure where she hit her face, but she was angry about it at the time.
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