They lay there, like a blob of rectangle jelly beans that had lost their sugar coating. Filling a Mason jar two-thirds full, someone asked me, "Would you like some watermelon rind preserves? They're SO good."
I'm not sure if I answered, but I do know that I was either forced by social protocols, or curious enough, to take one bite.
"Icky!!" I screamed inside my head.
"I don't care for any more, thank you," I managed to say out loud.
That was about forty years ago. So this past weekend, I tried again.
I tried because I was curious. And, because I watched this gentleman's entire documentary on, "How to make my family's 100 year-old watermelon rind preserves recipe." He really is quite convincing. See for yourself?
So I grew one. A watermelon, that is. Then I ate the red part. Then I peeled and prepared the white part. Then I cooked it down according to the 100 year-old instructions on the convincing man's video. Then I canned it.
Then I tasted it.
"Hmmm..." I said both out loud and inside my head. "I'll have to think about this."
So I tried the preserves on toast. Then my son-in-law tried them. He voted, "Not so much." Then my hubby tried them. He voted, "Uh, NO. I don't really like them."
For me, they taste like lemon marmalade apple pie candy jelled...something. At first, the lemon taste comes through, then a sweeter melon taste hits the back of your palate, then a hint of cinnamon goes up your nose.
Hm. Would I make them again? Well...I'd have to think about it.
Just for fun, here is a photo of my dog wearing "boot-shaped kid's shoe covers" sent to me by a friend. She sent them to me because I told her I was "shaking in my boots" about an upcoming exam. She's cool like that. My dog? Not so much. She shook them off, looked at me with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, and wondered why we would subject her to the torture of wearing them.
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