Melons among us
Oblong or spherical but never square, melons are one of the ways nature expresses herself. My relatives in Calhoun County in the middle of southern Arkansas expressed themselves by growing acres of watermelons. A cousin and I would get up in the morning, wander through the fields until we found one we liked and break it open for breakfast right there in the field, just like hunter-gatherers.
Farmers grow melons in all parts of Arkansas, and watermelons rank fifth in the top crops grown in the state. Hope, just east of Texarkana, stages an annual festival claiming it is home of the world’s largest watermelon, and local Hope farmer Jason Bright once held the world record for one weighing more than 260 pounds. Cave City, just west of Rogers, claims to be home of the world’s sweetest watermelon, so our state is awash with melon champions.
Somebody counted and now we know that the farmers of the world grew 54.8 billion pounds of watermelons in 2020, and Chinese farmers grew half of them. Second place Turkey lagged way behind with 3.4 billion pounds, and the United States placed sixth right behind Afghanistan with 1.38 billion pounds. Florida (30%) and Georgia (20%) grew half our total. The watermelons of Arkansas were valued at just over $5 million, plus the few I grew that I did not tell anyone about.
Again, somebody who counted claims there are 1200 varieties of watermelons in the world, but I suspect there are many more local family-grown heirlooms hardly seen out of their local microclimates. Seed-saver projects worldwide are trying to preserve these treasures so they are not lost when somebody’s grandpa dies.
Besides watermelons, there are also cantaloupes and honeydews and many other melons. Most melons, such as cantaloupes, honeydews, casabas and Crenshaws, belong to Cucumis melo, but not watermelons, although they are closely related. According to people who went to school longer than I did, what Americans call cantaloupes are actually a variety of muskmelon. That doesn’t matter because the taste didn’t change just because I learned something.
North American cantaloupes (muskmelons) have a netted rind and usually orange flesh. European cantaloupes have a green or gray-green exterior and they often are smooth, but there are basket loads of variations in the melon family. The oblong Santa Claus melon from Spain – the melon from La Mancha – is dark green with light-colored netting but with pale green to white flesh. It gets its name from its ability to store for longer times than most melons, or “until Christmas.”
The small white Kiku melon from Japan looks like a plumper pattypan squash. The Noir de Carmes melon from France (maintained and passed on by Carmelite monks) looks like a rounder acorn squash. If you’re wondering if they are related, they are in fact Cucurbitaceae cousins twice removed. Another squash-looking melon is Prescott Fond Blanc, a wrinkly, warty and ribbed heirloom popular in France since the mid-1800s. It is supposedly amazingly fragrant, and each fruit might reach eight pounds or so.
So, as Nature expresses herself in melons, she does so with creativity and flair. I grow a small Armenian melon called Tigger. When mature, it is bigger than a baseball with dark orange/vibrant yellow alternating jagged striations on its exterior. Tiggers are famously fragrant with mild but pleasant flesh. It takes three months for the vines to produce mature melons, but when the weather accommodates, the rambling vines can be plenty productive. In spite of our severe July weather, Tigger melon vines are producing well this year.
Melons are a delightful way to eat your antioxidants. They also are loaded with vitamins B6, C and K plus potassium in case you need those things… and you do! They are mostly water but provide fiber for digestive health.
As special as digestive health is, that is not what I think about when I cut open a melon.