At the market recently, I stumbled upon a basket of melons with identifying signage that read Sugar Queens. I’m not really a melon fanatic, but I snatched one up quicker than a bell clapper in a goose’s ass. Why? Because it was a Sugar Queen. No, I had never heard of this variety of melon, nor did I have a clue what it was or what it would taste like. But the fact that it was called Sugar Queen made me all chirpy. I figured it must be a precious and exultant melon.
I don’t know much about melon selecting. I’ve seen people smell them and shake them, gently and/or hard. And I’ve seen folks hold them up by their ears -- as if they had a conch shell and were listening for the ocean. But from this basket of Sugar Queens, I simply selected the one that spoke to me. It was not the largest or smallest or roundest most oblong. But it felt confident and firm in my hand and it had a little bit of a blemish on one side of its netted skin. It smelled so sweet, almost candy-like, almost too sweet. She was now my Sugar Queen.