mary eats

I never loved you chameh.

In fact, when offered to me, I found you lacking in flavor and wondering if you were even ripe. But as you are the ubiquitous summer fruit of Seoul, I followed suit and ate you peeled and cubed, membrane, seeds and all.

Growing up a sucker for fresh juicy honeydew and cantaloupe, each time I raised a bejeweled cocktail fork spearing a cube of you, chameh, I for a moment envisioned a honey like nectar being released under the pressure of my bite. And each time I was met with the same result; your quizzically firm flesh, your flavor too subtle to pin down, and a lacking sweetness.

Despite my indifference towards you, I couldn’t resist your oblong yellow and silver striped beauty this last weekend. All sorts of thoughts are now running through my head as to what, if anything, to do with you.

Because your taste is more akin to the cucumber-ish white of a watermelon, I’m nixing the idea or wrapping spears in proscuitto and drizzling with balsamic reduction.

I could go the route of pickling you, chameh, a la pickled watermelon rinds, or the way of my friend Caroline’s mother who would make kimchi out of left over watermelon rind.

Taking a cue from Fuchsia Dunlop’s Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook, I could go savory and sauté you with a touch of soy, garlic, and gagnib.

Perhaps you’d do nicely in the Japanese pickling treatment Shiba-zuke?

One thread on Chow Hound suggested sprinkling spears of you with sugar and eating. Easy enough.

Thoughts? Ideas?