Balsamic Watermelon Cucumber Salad

Fourth of July in Savannah is a thing. The whole city loses its mind — fireworks over the river, tourists everywhere, the heat so thick you could slice it and serve it on a plate. We don't go downtown anymore. Earl can't handle the crowds and my knees can't handle the walking and neither of us can handle the parking, so we celebrate at home, which is better anyway because home is where my grill is.

I grilled ribs. Now, I know what you're thinking — a sixty-year-old woman standing over a charcoal grill in July in Savannah, Georgia, that's a heatstroke waiting to happen. And you're right. But these ribs are worth the risk. I use a dry rub — brown sugar, paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne, black pepper, and a little bit of cumin that I will deny if anyone asks. I put that rub on the night before and let it sit in the refrigerator, and by the time they hit the grill, they're crusty on the outside and tender all the way through. Low and slow, baby. Everything good in this world is low and slow.

The whole family came. Denise and Robert and the kids. Kayla brought Devon — wait, not Devon, that's later. She brought her friend from school, a young man named Travis who was polite enough but watched football on his phone during dinner, so I have my reservations. Earl Jr. drove down from Atlanta, which surprised me because he usually doesn't come for the Fourth, but I think the scare in the hospital made him want to be closer. He didn't say that. He said, "I just wanted your ribs, Mama." But I know my son. He wanted to see his daddy breathing.

We sat in the yard with the paper plates and the red-white-and-blue tablecloth that I've had since 1992 and the citronella candles that don't actually keep the mosquitoes away but make us feel like we're trying. The kids ran around with sparklers. Earl sat in his lawn chair with a plate balanced on his knee and barbecue sauce on his chin, looking like the happiest man in Georgia. The fireworks from downtown were visible over the treetops — just the tops of them, gold and green and white, popping above the live oaks like the sky was celebrating with us.

I also made baked beans — the real kind, with bacon and molasses and mustard and onion, baked in the oven for two hours until they're thick and sweet and smoky. And corn on the cob, grilled right on the grate until the kernels are charred in spots and sweet as candy. And watermelon. You cannot have the Fourth of July without watermelon. I picked one at the farmers market that was so heavy I almost dropped it, and when I cut it open, it was red and perfect and I said, "Thank you, Lord, for watermelon," which is a prayer I stand behind.

Earl Jr. left Sunday morning. He hugged Earl for a long time at the door. He hugged me longer. He said, "Take care of Daddy." I said, "Boy, I have been taking care of your daddy since before you were born. Go on home." He laughed. I didn't watch him drive away because I can't do that without crying and I had dishes to wash.

Now go on and feed somebody.

That watermelon — the one so heavy I nearly dropped it at the farmers market, the one that opened up red and perfect and made me stop and say thank you out loud — deserved more than just a knife and a cutting board. This balsamic watermelon cucumber salad is what I’m making next time, because something that beautiful should get dressed up a little. The balsamic glaze brings out the sweetness the same way the Fourth of July brings out the best in this family: slow, warm, and a little bit unexpected.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

6 cups seedless watermelon, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 large English cucumber, halved lengthwise and sliced into half-moons
1/4 cup red onion, very thinly sliced
1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/4 cup fresh mint leaves, roughly torn
2 tablespoons balsamic glaze (store-bought or reduced from balsamic vinegar)
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Prep the produce. Cut watermelon into 1-inch cubes and transfer to a large serving bowl. Slice cucumber and add it to the bowl along with the thinly sliced red onion.
Add the cheese and herbs. Scatter the crumbled feta over the top, then add the torn fresh mint leaves.
Dress the salad. Drizzle the balsamic glaze and olive oil evenly over the salad. Season with flaky sea salt and black pepper.
Toss gently and serve. Give everything one or two gentle folds so the watermelon doesn’t break down. Taste and adjust salt or balsamic as needed. Serve immediately, or refrigerate for up to 30 minutes before serving — no longer, or the watermelon will release too much liquid.

Nutrition (per serving)

Balsamic Watermelon Cucumber Salad — The One I Said a Prayer Over