Sunday Food: What's A Watermelon?

Thanks to The Commentator's true watermelon story (do they spell it as two words in Canada, or is it just a case similar to my use of the term "rest room") you have a Sunday Food post this week (yes, I know it's late, very late). The Commentator even took my advice in a comment on his first watermelon post and posted a part two with a photo (for those who pretend to have never heard of the strange, exotic fruit).

I've always loved watermelon, going back to childhood, and I think the opening up of the large monstrous melons was even more exciting to me as a kid than the breaking open of a coconut (which always seemed like murder, what with the pounding and hammering and dynamiting, plus, the little things actually had faces!).

Watermelon during the Summer was a special treat, but I never liked the seeds. They have seedless hybrids now, but even though the seeds were and still are my enemy, buying a watermelon without them doesn't seem quite right.

Some watermelon facts:

Watermelon is a mild diuretic. It has a lot of that good thing tomatoes have in its red flesh (lycopene). It also has that stuff that carrots have that can turn your skin orange (beta carotene). Watermelons are 92% water (I wondered where they got that name...no, really, I did) which you can tell by trying to eat one with a fork (use a spoon or just your hands, fool!). And did you know that the largest watermelon weighed 262 pounds?

A whole watermelon will stay fresh for several days at least if kept refrigerated. If you cut it open, wrap the unused sections in plastic wrap and refrigerate.

Though I would never do it (remember, me and the seeds don't get along) I've heard you can roast and salt the seeds and eat them as a snack, though they are high in fat.

Sunday Food: The Big Cake

On a recent "holiday" (okay, St. Patrick's-and I apologize to all of you faithful readers who were expecting a special St. Paddy's Day post, but get over it, will ya) the wage slaves at work participated in a pot luck. I excluded myself, as I'm sticking to my "bring my own lunch to work" policy-it saves money and calories and if I stick to it, I'll soon look like my old self, and avoid the Jackie Gleason look I feared I was fast approaching.

So anyway, faithful readers, it was the middle of the week and about noon time the food was presented on the back table, from which I now am only a few feet away (my desk ain't called the temptation desk for nothing) but in spite of Satan's feast being so near, I resisted (proud of me, aren't you?).

Now, I guess I should emphasize the nature of the "food" that was so generously shared by my co-workers. Some of it (a little) was in the good or acceptable category of salad and baked chicken (one small bowl of salad and one skinny baked chicken, enough for the two people who got to it first) but the rest consisted of store bought cookies and cakes and chips. On discovering this, the general consensus was that too many people took the easy store-bought way out, but this failed to dampen their enthusiasm for the extravagant white flour, sugar, shortening and fried potato/corn spread that lay before them in all its caloric glory.

They loaded up their flimsy paper plates with the stuff, even the ones on a "diet", and came back for more. I know of the health problems of many of them (you know how people can't help talking about their latest visit to the doctor) and even those with borderline diabetes, heart disease and obesity piled it on. One who continuously fears her behind is out of control nevertheless less kept making an appearance behind me, her excuse being that "I can't get enough of these frosted cookies!"

One co-worker (besides myself) did have the will-power to say no. He too had brought lunch from home, and as he surveyed the scene of apocalyptic pastry before him, he took a plate, getting ready to dig in, when he hesitated. "No, I brought lunch," he said, put the plate down, and walked away. Bravo! I thought.

After those first ten minutes had gone by, one of the managers brought in a gigantic sheet cake as a surprise. It was so big it needed its own table, which was quickly positioned next to the other one. After eating his own lunch, my co-worker with the will power was soon back to take a glance at the lasted arrival. "Wow, that's big!" he declared. "I LOVE cake. I really shouldn't. I'm full and not hungry at all, but I'm gonna have a BIG piece anyway." And he proceeded to cut himself a humongous slice of the monster. Those who had already had their fill of the other goodies also returned for some of the Big Cake. They could barely walk by that time, of course, but even in their lethargy they came and got their share.

After everyone else was safely collapsed in their chairs in sugar induced comas, I went outside to eat my apple and whole wheat bread peanut butter sandwich.

Sunday Food: Cauliflower Chaos

I probably own more recipe books than my mom, though she does more cooking than I do. Not all of her attempts at culinary artistry are successful, unfortunately. Take for example the recent Case of the Cauliflower Crisis.

It was another one of those lazy days at Mom's house. I visit now and then, and on this particular day, Mom had been busy going through her collection of cookbooks, looking for a good experiment to try out on the rest of us. Glancing over at her between my juggling of a book and the TV remote, I began to get nervous. She was taking notes! That meant only one thing, she was putting together a meal for later in the day.

As nutritional insurance, I got my lazy ass off the couch and made the announcement that I was going to the store for a few things. I figured a couple of frozen entrees would not be a bad idea, just in case Mom's dinner proved inedible.

As I hurriedly put my shoes on, Mom lifted her eyes from her stack of recipes long enough to make a request. "I'll need some cauliflower"

"Sure Mom, sure," I replied, not really hearing a word she'd said.

I returned a short time later.

"Okay." said Mom as I emptied my grocery bags onto the counter, "I'll need that cauliflower now."

Cauliflower? "Uh, what?" I asked.

"Don't tell me you didn't get it! Cause you know I can't start the food without it." Actually, I knew no such thing.

"Uh, it's okay, I'll go up to the closer place, Food Jungle, a little later and get it".

"Food Jungle? That place is a jungle and dirty inside. I don't like it."

I contemplated this for a moment, but couldn't think of anything that could go wrong if you were just buying cauliflower.

"Mom, how can they hurt a cauliflower? Besides, I don't want to drive all the way back to the other store. I'm tired."

After an hour or two of my watching the History Channel, Mom popped her head into the living room.

"Well, when are you going," she said. "I'm getting hungry and I can't cook dinner until I have cauliflower."

I never even thought to ask why we couldn't eat without the cauliflower, but I dragged myself to the car, only to have Mom follow me out to the driveway.

"And don't go to that dirty place, I'll know if you do. I can tell the difference, believe me."



I decided it wasn't worth the chaos that would result if I tried to sneak an unapproved vegetable past her, so I went all the way back to the other store on the other side of town. Once inside, I began to remember things I needed, such as antacid tablets ( I might very well need them that night, after all) and peanuts in the shell. At the checkout I was well satisfied that it hadn't been a wasted trip as I'd feared. Once I was in the car out in the parking lot, it struck me that one thing was missing from this otherwise successful mission. I'D FORGOTTEN THE CAULIFLOWER!!!

I turned the engine off, relocked the car, and headed back inside.

I knew I'd be greeted as the hero I was once I returned home. I burst into the kitchen triumphantly, held high the fresh and very clean giant head of cauliflower, and shouted "I got it!"

"I don't need it," said Mom, who by the look of things had been busy with the pots and pans while I was away. "I made the recipe without it, and I think it will be fine. I'll use the cauliflower for something else another day."

When it was time to finally eat, the side dish that had been so critically in need of cauliflower was placed on the counter.

"What is it?"

"Crispy vegetables!" Mom announced. "It took two whole sticks of real butter, plus bread crumbs and cheese, to make it."

They looked a little like deep fried, unidentifiable, irregularly shaped balls. Except when I looked close I could see some green showing through some of them, which I took to be broccoli. It turns out they weren't fried but baked.

Almost raw vegetables covered with bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese and who knew what else was not a recipe for getting anyone to eat their greens. More than half of mine went into the garbage when Mom wasn't looking.

Maybe these cauliflower recipes have more potential, but at this point I'd rather eat the vegetable as is. At least that way I'll know what I'm getting before I ever take a bite.

Sunday Food: Make Mayo-Hem

Back in May I posted a video on how to make your own mayo. Today, to celebrate the return of our Sunday Food feature, we proudly welcome mayonnaise to Skeptical Eye again!

One day, thinking my sandwiches need more excitment than mere mayo could give them, I decided to look into to the wild, untamed taste of Miracle Whip and discovered I'm not a big fan. I hadn't had it in quite a while and the jar of the stuff (I really don't know what it is, so "stuff" is a good description) I purchased a few months back still sits in my fridge with only a few spoonfuls missing.



Here's a interesting fact about mayo itself and food safety: [Mayonnaise] has quite a low pH, so is inhospitable for bacteria. Mayonnaise is rarely the culprit in food-borne illness cases: it's much more likely to be the potatoes or pasta in the picnic salads causing problems!

I found the above mayo fact at this recipe for Making Mayonnaise.

For those concerned about the risk in using raw eggs in anything, there are pasteurized in-the-shell eggs, available in some locations (though I don't think I've ever seen them at any market I shop at).