Watermelon With Seeds, Please

As a kid, I remember July evenings running barefoot in the yard, catching lightning bugs in mason jars, and eating watermelon on the back porch. Every bite of melon also meant a mouthful of black seeds. You just couldn't avoid 'em.

So my cousins and I held watermelon seed spitting contests. Who could spit their seeds the farthest? Now I wonder if that simple summer tradition may soon be a thing of the past. I blame it on the seedless watermelon.

It appears I'm not the only one lamenting the absence of seeds. And is it just me, or do those seedless watermelons seem less sweet? What do you think?

They're Baaaaa-aaaaack!

You can breathe a little more easily now--the peach milkshake is back at Chick-fil-a! As you'll remember, I was a little concerned about whether or not it would return. This delicious shake reminds me of helping make (and eating) homemade peach ice cream on my granny's porch. Peaches. Yum. Get this. Get it now!

Before Blackberries Had Batteries

With the arrival of summer, I often think longingly back on the days when I was growing up and the excitement of being out of school for a few months. Living out in the country, there were always plenty of things to do and places to explore. One of the things I remember most about childhood summers, though, is blackberries.

Behind our house was a pasture, and on the fence separating the pasture from the back yard, blackberry vines grew thick and thorny. From the time the first tiny white flowers appeared, I watched the fruit turn from tiny green nodules to red, and finally to deep, blue-black clusters the size of cherry tomatoes.

When the berries were ripe, my grandmother would hand me a plastic bowl and together we would gently fill it with the sun-warmed fruit. She would make sure I watched out for thorns, black snakes and chiggers—three of the hazards of picking blackberries. Our blackberry “orchard” wasn’t a large one, and it would take several afternoons of harvesting before she would declare we had enough for her to make a few pints of blackberry juice.

While a lot of grandmothers might have made blackberry cobblers or blackberry jelly (and mine did many times through the years), my grandmother’s first priority was to preserve a few jars of blackberry juice. She always prescribed it whenever my mother, father or I had a stomachache. And drinking a small amount of it always made us feel better, if for no other reason than the sweet taste of summer and sunshine it provided all year long.

Pucker Up!

A friend recently told me about an article she’d read that said people who love lemon are typically not chocoholics, and chocoholics often don’t care for lemon.

I love lemon. And I love chocolate. But given a choice between the two, lemon would be the winner.

All this talk of lemon made me think of the lemon meringue pie my grandmother used to make. And with Memorial Day coming up and it being the unofficial start of summer, what better time to enjoy the tart, refreshing taste of a family favorite?

Here’s my Mamaw Penry’s recipe, in case you want to give it a try.

Lemon Meringue Pie

1 8- or 9-inch graham cracker crust

3 eggs, separated

1 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk

½ cup lemon juice

¼ teaspoon cream of tartar

1/3 cup sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a medium mixing bowl, beat egg yolks. Stir in condensed milk and lemon juice. Pour into shell.

In a small mixing bowl, beat egg whites with cream of tartar until soft peaks form; gradually add sugar, beating until stiff but not dry.

Spread meringue on top of pie, to the edge of shell. Bake 12-15 minutes or until golden brown. Cool. Chill thoroughly, and refrigerate leftovers.