Bring out the 'lopes' and let memories of good times roll

The Baltimore Sun

The car smelled like cantaloupe, and that meant it was high summer, the start of the local cantaloupe season.

The two ripe cantaloupes were stashed in the back of my car, sharing space with some pretty aromatic company: a handful of peaches, a bag of coffee beans and a loaf of freshly baked bread. Yet when it came to fragrance, there was no contest. The "lopes" were far and away the smelliest.

Scent is a powerful memory trigger, and the fragrance of lopes that I purchased last week reminded me of past summers and juicy delights.

As a boy, I used to sell cantaloupes door-to-door. One of our neighbors owned a produce business and, in the summer, he would hire my older brother and me to huckster fruit and vegetables. We were not as flamboyant as Baltimore's a-rabs, peddlers who hawk produce in horse-drawn carts, singing out "lopes, corn, tomatoes."

This was the Midwest, St. Joseph, Mo., and our sales technique was polite and personal. "Good morning, Mrs. Ellis," we would say after ringing the doorbell of one of our neighbors. "Would you like to buy some delicious cantaloupe today?"

Our boss, John Waris, was nearby, easing his produce-laden pickup truck down the middle of the street as we carried a sample of goods to the door. He was a giant of a man, a former high school basketball star who was close to 7 feet tall. If we had a big sale or if a customer wanted to see more goods, Big John would pull his amazingly long legs out of the truck, tower over the customer and close the deal.

At the end of the day, we would ride home in the back of the pickup with money in our pockets and the redolence of cantaloupes swirling around us. That, I guess, is one reason I associate the musky aroma of the melon with good times.

Another reason is that the meat of a ripe melon is sweet and satisfying. Moreover, a slice of cantaloupe for breakfast starts a day in the right direction, nutritionists say. I read this while doing some research on cantaloupes.

I also read that a few years ago, when Michael Bloomberg wanted to shed a few pounds during his campaign for the New York mayor's office, he reportedly substituted a slice of cantaloupe for his usual bacon-and-egg breakfast. Political pundits who are wondering if Bloomberg is going to run for president in the coming months would be wise, it seems, to check the mayor's breakfast menu.

I salt my cantaloupe, as does author Roy Blount Jr. This technique was passed along from his father. The Blounts, I read, add pepper as well.

The cantaloupe literature also revealed that R.W. "Johnny" Apple, the late New York Times correspondent and gourmand, once found himself fruitless and almost frozen in Moscow. So Apple paid $40 for a black-market cantaloupe spirited in from the republic of Georgia.

On the flavor front, I read that Jose Ramon Andres, one of those Spanish "deconstructionist" chefs, makes his cantaloupe puree by adding a salty solution, calcium chloride, to the mix. This trick is said to make the flavor of the melon "explode."

This summer, it looks like there are going to be plenty of melons and chances to try cantaloupe dishes. "The crop looks good," Bob Knopp Jr., a veteran grower from Severn, told me over the phone. As he spoke, he was selling cantaloupes at the Glen Burnie Farmers' Market, one of six such markets he visits. "We're picking pretty heavy," he said.

Back in my days as a cantaloupe salesman, I learned how to spot a ripe one. It was knowledge I put to use on a recent afternoon when I stopped at the roadside produce enterprise near the Ruxton Road exit of Interstate 83. I looked at the undercolor, the hue below the netting on the skin of the lopes. I spotted two melons that had the cream color under the netting that indicated ripeness.

Some lope lovers believe that the space between the netting matters. Tighter netting means a sweeter melon, they say. I don't buy that. I also don't believe in pushing the "navel," or end of the fruit. My wife is a pusher. She contends a soft navel indicates ripeness. I believe it proves someone else has pushed the lope before you did. But we agree on the importance of aroma. These lopes had it. I rode around town in the car for an hour or so, taking deep breaths. When I got the lopes home, I tried out a new treatment on my fragrant friends.

I peeled them and cut them into chunks, then skewered them with pieces of mozzarella cheese and prosciutto, Italian ham. Then I drizzled the skewers with a dressing made with basil leaves, olive oil and shallots.

It was a pretty dish -- excellent fare for a summer party, my wife said. I liked the flavor. The sweetness of melon contrasted with the prosciutto, and the crunchy fruit was a pleasing companion to the soft cheese.

The basil dressing, I thought, could use a little salt. But as I said, I like to salt my lopes. Salt makes them sweeter, and I believe it makes them smell even better.

rob.kasper@baltsun.com

Brochettes of Cantaloupe, Prosciutto and Fresh Mozzarella

Makes 6

1/3 cup olive oil

1/2 cup packed fresh basil leaves

1 medium shallot, quartered

salt to taste

1 cantaloupe, halved crosswise, seeded, cut into 6 wedges, peeled

6 small fresh water-packed mozzarella balls or one 8-ounce ball, drained

6 thin slices prosciutto, halved lengthwise, pushed into a ruffle

six 8-inch wooden skewers

cracked black pepper

basil sprigs for garnish

Puree the olive oil, basil leaves and shallot in a food processor, using the pulse or on/off control until the basil and shallot are finely chopped. Add salt to taste, remembering that prosciutto can be salty, and pulse again.

Cut each cantaloupe wedge in half, crosswise. If using large mozzarella ball, trim and cut into 6 cubes. Alternate 1 melon piece, 1 piece ruffled prosciutto, mozzarella ball or cube, 1 more prosciutto piece, and 1 more melon piece on each skewer. (Can be prepared 2 hours ahead. Cover and refrigerate. Bring to room temperature 15 minutes before serving.)

Arrange skewers on platter. Drizzle with basil oil and sprinkle with cracked black pepper. Garnish with basil sprigs.

Adapted from "The Bon Appetit Cookbook" by Barbara Fairchild

Per serving: 216 calories, 16 grams protein, 13 grams fat, 2 grams saturated fat, 10 grams carbohydrate, 2 grams fiber, 13 milligrams cholesterol, 509 milligrams sodium

Copyright © 2021, The Baltimore Sun, a Baltimore Sun Media Group publication | Place an Ad
72°