Over four decades ago, I saw my first-ever restaurant salad bar in Munro’s Boston House on Circuit Avenue in Oak Bluffs. Then the summit of Vineyard dining, Munro’s was the kind of island place where jackets were required and an elegant hostess ushered diners to their tables.
One summer my Uncle Jim wowed the crowd and challenged the dress code by wearing charcoal gray Bermuda shorts in formal Bermuda style, complete with blazer and knee socks. But even he didn’t make as big an impression as the salad bar. It was situated in the Charcoal Galley, where steaks and chops were the thing, and contained not only salad fixings like lettuce, tomato, and onions, but also condiments, including corn relish and watermelon rind pickles.
Munro’s has long since morphed into the Atlantic Connection nightclub, but the memory lingers on, and I content myself with making my own watermelon rind pickles each summer. You’ll need to start with a watermelon that weighs about 3 pounds to yield this amount of rind.
MAKES ABOUT 2 QUARTS
As you prepare the watermelon rind for cubing, be sure to remove all the green skin and all but a small amount of the red meat. Combine the salt and 2 quarts of the water in a bowl large enough to accommodate the cubed rind and stir to dissolve the salt. Submerge the rind in the brine and let soak overnight.
Drain the rind, rinse with fresh water, and drain again. Place the rind in a large nonreactive saucepan, add water to cover, and place over medium heat. Bring to a simmer and cook, uncovered, for 15 minutes, or until fork-tender.
Meanwhile, combine the remaining 2 cups water, cider vinegar, balsamic vinegar, brown sugar, lemon slices, cinnamon, cloves, and allspice in another large nonreactive saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally to dissolve the sugar. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook for 15 minutes, or until a thin syrup forms.
Drain the watermelon rind, add it to the simmering syrup, and continue to simmer for about 20 minutes, or until the rind is translucent. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the rind to hot sterilized canning jars. Ladle in the hot unstrained syrup to cover, allowing about ¼-inch headroom, then cover tightly.
Process the jars in a hot-water bath for 15 minutes. Remove from the water bath, let cool, and check the seal. If you find a jar without a good seal, store it in the refrigerator; it will keep for up to 1 month. Store jars with a good seal in a cool, dark place for up to several months—if they last that long.
“Fala português?” Well, you can on the Vineyard. Portuguese from the Azores have been on the island for centuries and were celebrated among the whalers. They were followed by the Cape Verdeans, who left their mark as well. But no native Portuguese speakers have changed the day-to-day finds in the supermarkets as much as the recently arrived Brazilians.
First appearing on the island in the 1990s, perhaps lured by the presence of a Portuguese-speaking community, the Brazilians, mainly from the states of Minas Gerais and Espíritu Santo, have become the island’s new service professionals, taking their place alongside the Jamaicans, who arrived as migrant workers; the Irish, who journeyed to serve as hotel employees; and the eastern Europeans, who come each summer to drive the island’s buses and do seasonal work in shops. But while a Ting, the Jamaican grapefruit soda, can occasionally be found at the Stop & Shop, and a piece of Irish soda bread may turn up around St. Patrick’s Day, no group has had a major influence on the availability of foods and restaurants on the island like the Brazilians.
At my grocery store in Oak Bluffs, I am thrilled that I can now find guava juice and cashew juice, and kilo bags of the salt rubs used for churrasco, alongside Boston baked beans. I can find malagueta chiles and dendê oil, and even yucca in the section that stocks potatoes and onions. There are linguiça and chouriço and jars of coconut sweets, or cocadas, flavored with prune or passionfruit. I spend my summers indulging in dried mango and cans of coconut water. (All of this in a shop where fresh arugula only arrived a few years back!)
In Brazilian specialty shops, there are all sorts of cookies and crackers that I haven’t seen since my days in Bahia and Rio, as well as frozen Brazilian pão de queijo, a delicious cheese bread served as an appetizer in most Brazilian restaurants. Brazilians are also among the few groups who have influenced the local restaurant scene, whether through their own places or special Brazilian nights at other restaurants.
The stepladder of immigrant success in this country will see the Brazilians move up and off to other occupations on the island and beyond. But one thing is sure: they have changed the island’s food in many ways and we are all much better for it.
