I call my house in Oak Bluffs my “watermelon house.” I have paintings of the fruit by various artist friends, and the kitchen is decorated with examples of what a friend has dubbed “watermelonania.” For years, I could take or leave watermelon, preferring the sweet-tart taste of watermelon rind pickles and not really wanting the summer’s special fruit. Then one day, I’m not sure why, I found myself craving watermelon, loving it when it is at its summer sweetest, and even buying it from fruit stands in the cooler months.
This recipe is almost too simple, requiring nothing more than gilding the summer “lily” with my favorite summer liqueur, limoncello.
SERVES 4 TO 6
Cut a small plug out of the watermelon. Pour in the limoncello. Chill the watermelon for 2 hours, or until ready to serve.
To serve, cut the melon into wedges. You may want to have more limoncello on hand for the hardcore folks.
The Vineyard shows its New England spine in its preferred method of entertaining: the weekend potluck supper. Whether fund-raisers for charities or gatherings of friends, houses from down-island gingerbread cottages to up-island A-frames have tables set with an array of dishes displaying the local bounty.
Private potlucks range from the casual to the elegant, depending on the skills of your friends. The plan is simple: the host house usually arranges for the meat or main dish and the guests bring along their offerings. The truly lost or culinarily inept can usually slide by with a good bottle of wine or a salad. Some of the events get quite competitive, and guests vie for attention with their homemade vegetable creations and fancy desserts.
Public potlucks are even more elaborate. The establishment of a Vineyard convivium (or chapter) of Slow Food, the international culinary organization, was the occasion for a major potluck at the Agricultural Hall. Two tables groaned under the weight of salads made with Whippoorwill or North Tabor Farm greens, of island corn transformed into casseroles, and of locally grown tomatoes topped with snippets of basil fresh from a garden. Wine flowed and the evening ended with a lecture and a taste of classic foodstuffs from the New Orleans convivium.
One of the island’s most unusual potlucks is the Soirée Française at the Congregational church in West Tisbury, a monthly gathering of folks who get together to share food and speak French. My mother, who loved the French language and culture, was a regular attendee. One time she dragged me along, complete with my lazy person’s offering of a platter of saucisson sec and Picholine olives dressed up with a selection of cheeses and some grapes and accompanied by a bottle of red wine that I firmly intended to drink. To my surprise, it was fun! Participants spoke all levels of the language and the most fluent were generous and gracious with those who could barely utter oui. I’ve long threatened to go again. Who knows? I might even cook this time.
