My dad had a weekly summer ritual. Every Saturday — or at least that’s how I remember it — he’d mow the lawn, listen to a Mariners baseball game and then grill chicken on his Weber kettle while listening to “A Prairie Home Companion” on the radio.
I can clearly picture our shade-dappled, lattice-covered patio made of terra-cotta red bricks he and his brother laid by hand. On the picnic table would be a perspiring mug of micro-brewed beer, and next to the mug a bag of salty peanuts waiting to be shelled. My nose still tingles when I catch a whiff of charcoal-briquette smoke and my ears perk up at the sound of Garrison Keillor’s whistling narrative. When I close my eyes I can still taste those smoky chicken legs and country spare ribs.
On most warm Saturdays, in the hours before grilling, two things would happen at our house. The television and radio would be simultaneously tuned to baseball and Dad would be out mowing the lawn. I found so much comfort in his lawn-mowing ritual.
While the rest of the neighborhood buzzed around gas and electric models, Dad remained committed to his push mower. After dragging it up from the basement onto the grass, he always started near the street then methodically worked his way to the back yard. The mower blade’s staccato rhythm, chop-chop-chop-chop-pause, had a hypnotic effect, eventually lulling me into a rummy trance — especially when there were chores to be done.
Dad almost always left the TV on while mowing the lawn. Through some crazy sports-induced telepathy, the moment my sister or I would change the channel he would come tearing into the room yelling, “Quick! Change it back! What happened?!? We gotta see this! Griffey just hit it over the wall!” My mother would be summoned while we held our breath waiting for the replay. After a couple more at bats, he gave instructions to leave the TV alone and returned to the yard.
Twice a year, a sunny Saturday was earmarked for trimming the towering laurel hedge that surrounded our front yard. Dad had a full system for trimming the hedge, which included homemade ladder extensions, an entire box of 30 gallon trash bags and my sister and I engaged in what can only be described as torturous, forced labor. She and I had to rake all of the lopped off leaves. In retrospect, it may not have been such a terrible job except we stopped every few minutes to stomp, cry, get a drink of water, go pee, poke each other, and sit in timeout for our antics.
When the yard work was done, Dad headed straight for the freezer to grab one of the two mugs that were always kept inside the door. As soon as the warm air hit the glass it would fog up, making the beer look soft and creamy. Beer and snacks in hand, he headed down to the patio and we would hear the familiar scraping of the black kettle barbecue’s wheels across the uneven brick, followed by the metal on metal sounds of the vents opening. Finally, he would stretch out in a lawn chair and begin grilling. It is funny, grilling looked an awful lot like sitting, with his eyes closed, and only half listening to the radio.
The spring I graduated from high school, my parents sold the house and with it the patio, the lawn and the laurel. In the new house, Dad declared the grass to be different and bought an electric mower to cut the lawn. The charcoal kettle is still around, but is mostly ignored as Dad has transitioned to a gas grill. He still grills up a tasty piece of chicken but it just isn’t the same. Perhaps, if the weather cooperates this weekend, I can get him to treat us to a little bit of the “good old days,” in exchange for a bag of peanuts and an icy cold beer.
This watermelon-based salad is one of Dad’s favorite summer side dishes. Take a large watermelon and wedge it into the back of your refrigerator no less than three hours before you plan to serve it. Get it in there anyway you can, removing other items as necessary.
When ready to serve, slice the melon into thick wedges and pile them on to a plate. Eat the watermelon leaning forward in your lawn chair, letting the juices dribble onto the ground. Don’t be afraid to tuck a napkin into your shirt collar for extra drip management. Slurp loudly while consuming to capture as much juice as possible in every bite.
Variation for when refrigeration isn’t available: Find a icy cold stream, creek, or river with some boulders in it. Remove shoes and wade to the nearest boulder. Never mind that onlookers think you are nuts. Wedge your watermelon behind the boulder and leave in the icy water for as long as possible. Retrieve and prepare as above.
Watermelon mint salad with feta and jalapeños
8 cups cubed seedless watermelon
½ cup mint cut into thin ribbons
1 medium jalapeño seeds and membranes removed, diced into tiny cubes
½ cup reduced fat feta cheese
¼ freshly squeezed lime juice
2 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
¼ teaspoon Kosher salt
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
In a large bowl combine watermelon cubes, mint, jalapeño, and feta cheese. Pour over the lime juice and olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Stir well.
Serve cold.
Prep time: 20 minutes.
Makes 8 1-cup servings
Approximate nutrition per serving: 120 calories, 6.7g fat, 337mg sodium, 12g carbohydrates, 1g fiber, 5g protein, Weight Watchers Points Plus 3
Note: Lighten this recipe by skipping the olive oil. Approximate nutrition without olive oil: 91 calories, 3g fat, 337mg sodium, 12g carbohydrate, 1g fiber, 10g sugar, 5g protein, Weight Watchers Point Plus 2
Rose McAvoy blogs at Light for Life at www.heraldnet.com/lightforlife and also at halfhersize.com. Email her at rose@halfhersize.com or find her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/halfhersize.
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