When the local farmers markets are at their peak, the possibilities for food stories are, too.
Some are perennial: strawberries, blueberries, corn and — obviously — tomatoes. The newspaper’s A la Carte section also has served up asparagus, peas, rhubarb, green beans, beets, cherries, sweet onions, peaches, apples, pears (duh!) and winter squash — to name a few — all with recipes for preparing and preserving this local bounty.
But, until this week, never melons.
It didn’t hurt that melon recipes from newspaper wire services are as numerous this time of year as varieties of melons. I have to confess, however, that I may have been holding out a bit on this food — never one of my favorites.
It’s not for lack of trying. My dad, who reminisces about the Colorado melons of his childhood, has been plying me with cantaloupe for as long as I can remember. You don’t like cantaloupe, try honeydew, he wheedles. Blecchh! I’ve even refused melon in French, much to the disdain of my host family in that country.
Yet I haven’t given hope on the possibility that I could actually enjoy melon. So I dutifully take the de rigueur watermelon wedge at summer picnics, only to spit a few seeds and offer the rest to my husband. Finally, this summer, I found myself relishing a particularly juicy watermelon in the heat of Lake Shasta.
Met with success, I decided to make a watermelon cocktail for a July dinner party. No mere punch spiked with watermelon vodka, this mixture contained actual watermelon simple syrup distilled from watermelon cubes, simmered with sugar and strained through a fine-mesh sieve. I mixed the chilled juice with freshly squeezed lime juice, fresh mint leaves and tonic and seltzer waters.
Similar to the Melon Cooler recipe accompanying this week’s story, it should have been delicious. I so badly wanted it to be. But it wasn’t.
If anything, heat accented melon’s distinct flavor that I so despise, that I can only describe as vaguely putrid like rotting vegetables. Maybe it was because my melon, purchased at a supermarket in advance of the local season and no doubt trucked in from afar, had already started to turn.
This and my experience at Lake Shasta proved that I only enjoy melon when it’s a superior specimen and conditions call for it. That time is now in the Rogue Valley. Stalled by early-summer chill like so many crops this year, melons have arrived at market in full force.
This week’s crop of recipes should provide plenty of ideas, including a glaze for improving lackluster melon. But in case, you’re looking for more, here’s one to try.
I had considered using my leftover watermelon juice in a gazpacho inspired by this process but have since decided that raw melon of impeccable flavor is the only way to go. Tell me what you think.
Tierra Sur’s Heirloom Melon Gazpacho
2 cups cubed French baguette or batard, all crusts removed, and cut into small cubes (about 1 baguette), divided
1⁄4 cup plus 2 tablespoons white wine, Champagne or sherry vinegar
4 cups cubed, peeled and seeded melons (preferably heirloom, such as Sugar Queen, butterscotch, Ogen, Ananas)
1⁄4 cup diced red onion
1⁄4 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra oil for frying the croutons
3 dried bay leaves, ground to a powder
Sea salt, to taste
Smoked paprika, for garnish
In a bowl, soak 1 1⁄2 cups of the cubed bread in the vinegar. Meanwhile, using a blender or food processor, puree the melons and red onion. Add soaked bread and vinegar to food processor and puree until completely smooth. With motor running, slowly add the 1⁄4 cup olive oil, then the ground bay leaves. Taste and adjust seasoning with the salt.
If soup is overly thick, add a few ice cubes, up to 1⁄2 cup, and puree until desired consistency is achieved. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and vinegar.
Transfer soup to a nonreactive metal bowl and chill before serving. This makes about 4 cups soup.
While soup is chilling, pan-fry remaining cubes of bread in a hot skillet with a little olive oil until evenly toasted and golden brown. Season to taste with a light sprinkling of salt.
Serve soup, garnished with a few croutons and a sprinkling of the paprika.
Makes 4 to 6 servings.
— Recipe adapted by the Los Angeles Times from chef Todd Aarons at Tierra Sur in Oxnard, Calif.
