This for all intents and purposes is not a mere melon, nor a fruit for that matter. This for all intents and purposes is a gift. Or it starts being one when a humble fruit like the melon is swaddled in a padded blanket and gently placed in a easily carriable box complete with a pillow inside to help it avoid gentle to moderate jiggles.
But the story of this humble melon begins in a greenhouse, where it's mother plant is pruned to produce only three fruit, then of the three, only our melon will be left when the farmer cuts off the two less attractice candidates. In simple terms, all the nutrients from of the plant go to nourish the remaining melon. After it has reached a optimum size and perfect round shape, and checked to make sure that it's characteristic mesh pattern is as even as possible, it is given a certificate to prove its authenticity, placed in it's vessel of transport, and delivered the next day to a supermarket near you, at a price anywhere from $40-$200 based on the quality of the melon. These are hardly ever bought to be eaten at home, which stems from traditional gift giving culture, where the very best is always saved to be given as a gift.
One of these gifts happens to find its way to our home every Christmas, from an old friend of my father's, and it is always eaten first before breakfast, with the melon being cut into six equal wedges (with a bowl underneath to catch all the liberated juices) with one going to each of us five, and the final one being split into three for my brothers and I. The luscious green flesh yields to your spoon like a hot knife to butter, and there is not one word uttered at the table as we all take in the first bite. Unlike most melons where the sweetness falters nearer the rind, this melon is sweet all the way through. Digging through the flesh to free the juices is has similarities to a young child digging for water near the seashore. Before you know it, its gone, and there is a collective sigh around the table. But with all great things, it is always just enough to savor a small piece than to rush through several servings.
But the story of this humble melon begins in a greenhouse, where it's mother plant is pruned to produce only three fruit, then of the three, only our melon will be left when the farmer cuts off the two less attractice candidates. In simple terms, all the nutrients from of the plant go to nourish the remaining melon. After it has reached a optimum size and perfect round shape, and checked to make sure that it's characteristic mesh pattern is as even as possible, it is given a certificate to prove its authenticity, placed in it's vessel of transport, and delivered the next day to a supermarket near you, at a price anywhere from $40-$200 based on the quality of the melon. These are hardly ever bought to be eaten at home, which stems from traditional gift giving culture, where the very best is always saved to be given as a gift.
One of these gifts happens to find its way to our home every Christmas, from an old friend of my father's, and it is always eaten first before breakfast, with the melon being cut into six equal wedges (with a bowl underneath to catch all the liberated juices) with one going to each of us five, and the final one being split into three for my brothers and I. The luscious green flesh yields to your spoon like a hot knife to butter, and there is not one word uttered at the table as we all take in the first bite. Unlike most melons where the sweetness falters nearer the rind, this melon is sweet all the way through. Digging through the flesh to free the juices is has similarities to a young child digging for water near the seashore. Before you know it, its gone, and there is a collective sigh around the table. But with all great things, it is always just enough to savor a small piece than to rush through several servings.
