cook pot stories

For some people summer means grilling or soft ice cream. For me, it's all about the watermelon. Maybe it's a bit late, writing about summer tastes in late August, but now is the time that I become sentimental for what will vanish in just a few weeks. I love watermelon. I'm not the only one. Watermelon originated in southern Africa; watermelon seeds were found in Tutankhamen's tomb. It makes sense that these melons evolved in southern Africa; they hold immense amounts of water (92%) and as they over-ripen they crack open, giving the seeds a wet, lucsious place within which to take root. There are stories about watermelon from around the world, ruminations on sweetness and bitterness, Anansi tales where he pretends to be a talking melon, and more. When I eat watermelon in the summer I am at once a kid again, longing for seeds to spit (curse these seedless watermelons!) and an adult indulging in a forbidden sweet. I love the varied texture and clean sweetness. And I lo...

Ramadan began this week. I am not Muslim but I  respect this religion, as I do most faiths. In the US these days there is growing anti-Muslim sentiment that I find quite distressing; judging a person based solely on their religion is no better than judging them based on the color of their skin or their ethnic heritage. Some of the hate-speech I've heard sounds awfully similar to what was bandied about in Nazi Germany. This nation that was founded on religious tolerance is slipping into a fearful state, where someone will be condemned because of their faith. How dreadfully sad and frightening. Ramadan is an amazing statement of faith and humility. For a month everyone becomes equal - all are hungry and thirsty. All have the opportunity to pray for forgiveness. All have a specific opportunity to be kind. As I said, I am not Muslim. I am Jewish. I have fasted for various religious holidays and have an appreciation for the clarity it can bring. And for the succulence of the meal ...