Hey, remember when I shared my opinion that summer is overrated recently? I knew there might be some backlash, but holy cow, a few folks came at me with guns a-blazin’, like that was the most insane thing they’d ever heard.
Yeah. That was fun.
I wasn’t upset by these comments. We writer types are generally pretty thick-skinned. Besides, you should see the vitriol I get when I tell people I hate watermelon. Hey, it’s not my fault: I want to like it, and I give it a chance every year, but I have yet to ever take a bite of watermelon and not wrinkle my nose in disgust. The same is true of all melons–cantaloupe, honeydew, casabas, they all taste vile to me. This is why I never order a fruit cup for a side dish; they’re always 99% melon, with maybe a token grape or blueberry. If you’re really lucky, you might end up with a single slice of banana. No wonder three cherries on a slot machine means you’ve hit the jackpot!
Only once in my life did I ever find watermelon palatable, and only because they doctored the shit out of it. We’d stopped by Interurban in Portland, a terrific gastropub on Mississippi Avenue that I just learned, this very moment, while pulling up the link, PERMANENTLY CLOSED EARLIER THIS YEAR. Say it ain’t so!
(I shouldn’t care now that I’m 2,023 miles away, but it’s the point of the matter, dammit.)
Anyway. Interurban had a bizarre-sounding appetizer on their menu: cubed watermelon rubbed in serrano pepper oil, topped with sea salt and feta cheese. Keep Portland Weird, amirite?! Needless to say, I was intrigued, and much to Tara’s surprise and delight, suggested we order a plate.
We did, and Geez Louise, was it good! Probably because all the other flavors–the spicy peppers, the tangy cheese, the briny salt flakes–masked the grossness of the watermelon itself. Purists might scoff, but I really dug it, man. Sadly, I’ve never found another watermelon preparation I didn’t want to immediately spit out.
And yes, I’ve tried soaking it in vodka. That’s still a hard pass.
But back to summer. Never once in that post did I write that I dislike summer. I merely stated it was my least favorite of the four seasons. You might like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, and Led Zeppelin, but you can’t like them all equally. One of them will top your list (Led Zeppelin) and one will rank at the bottom (sorry, Mick Jagger). It doesn’t mean “Gimme Shelter” isn’t still a kick-ass song…it’s just slightly less kick-ass than “Kashmir.” So, I stand by my summer-is-fourth-best declaration. I also rattled off a list of positive things about summer, and last night is a shining example.
Each year, June-August, my town hosts a series of six charity concerts every other Wednesday in Barrie Park. It’s a very nice setting, with a distinctive seashell scalloped-edge bandstand and ample trees for shade. The vibe is chill, and there’s usually a decent turnout. It’s great to see so many fellow townsfolk gathered communally in one spot, even if I don’t know them from Adam.
(I do know an Adam, but he’s never there. Lame.)
As much as we enjoy the concerts, we rarely go. Before last night, I can count on one and a half fingers the number of shows we’d seen. Last year, we didn’t make it out to a single one. This is inexcusable, but I’ll list a bunch anyway: hot weather, humid weather, stormy weather, laziness, or mental exhaustion after a busy day at work. Sometimes, it’s not our fault: the first two concerts this summer were cancelled due to thunderstorms. But this year, I told Tara I wanted to make an effort to engage with my community more. Hence, the cow parade in June.
Wednesday’s weather was perfect, and work hadn’t wiped us out, so we drove to the park, set up our folding camp chairs, subtly cracked open canned adult beverages (shh…that’s probably illegal), and kicked back for a couple of hours, enjoying the music of Altar Boy Picnic. They played everything from Tom Petty and Blue Oyster Cult to Talking Heads and My Morning Jacket. Good stuff.
The sky was cloudless, the temperature a pleasant 72°, and best of all, there was nary a mosquito to be found. Earlier, I’d picked up sandwiches from Gino’s Deli in Madison, which we ate as the sun set. When the concert was over, we walked to Frostie Freeze for soft serve ice cream, just a few blocks away.
Guys, if every day of summer were just like this one, I’d never complain about it. Hell, I might even bump it into third place in my rankings, one notch above spring, which–let’s face it–is also overrated. All that stupid pollen and shit. I CAN’T EVEN.
Just kidding. I don’t need any more angry comments.
What’s a food you dislike that most others enjoy? Do you ever attend concerts in the park?
Mark My Words 
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