On the curve of Palermo’s Via Papireto, just before the entrance to il mercato delle pulci—the flea market—there sits a watermelon stand and a hand-wrought sign: ICED, SWEET WATERMELON, DAY AND NIGHT. We passed the little place several times each day on our excursions through the great honkings and snarlings of the city traffic. Drawn by its promise, we meant always to stop but never found quite the right convergence of appetite, time, and space in which to park the car. But one Saturday evening, after a long, winy dinner and a dry search for a still-open gelateria, we thought to soothe ourselves with a visit to the watermelon man. Though it was well after midnight, he was there, waiting midst the walls of precisely laid, smooth-skinned fruit, his old Arab eyes illuminated by festoons of pink and green lights. He bid us sit at his one and only tiny, oilcloth-covered table, tucked in the corner farthest from the street. Speaking only in smiles—it was hardly necessary to tell him what we desired—we watched as he chose a melon from those he kept in a basin of iced water and then cleaved it open with a single heft of some ancient tool. Each half he stuck with fork and spoon and, resting the juice-dripping melons on wooden boards, he presented them. He brought a little tin plate in which we might deposit the seeds and two beautifully ironed kitchen-towel napkins. The red flesh was crisp under our spoons and each new excavation brought up a yet sweeter, colder mouthful of it. We ate slowly under the pink and green lights, finally resting our spoons against the great, hollowed shells, triumphant, certain we’d spent well that hour of our lives, certain, too, how perfect, how divine was that food. Lacking a faithful watermelon man, here follows a way to work with a well-ripened, even if not exquisitely fleshed, melon. Perfumed with cinnamon and studded with bitter chocolate and pistachios, it is the traditional ice of ferragosto—the official high summer Italian festival. The gelo is best eaten long after midnight.
A flurry of fresh tarragon makes this speedy weeknight dish of seared cod and luscious, sun-colored pan sauce feel restaurant worthy.
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
This broiled hot honey salmon recipe results in sweet, spicy, glossy fish coated in a homemade hot honey glaze for an easy weeknight dinner or make-ahead lunch.
Use this simple vinaigrette to dress a plate of greens, some steamed potatoes, or anything else that strikes your fancy.
Our go-to banana bread recipe is moist, nutty, and incredibly easy to make.
As energizing as an energy bar, with a much simpler ingredient list.
This easy, one-skillet chicken stroganoff features tender chicken breasts, savory mushrooms, and a creamy Dijon-crème fraîche sauce—perfect for weeknights.
Warming harissa and cinnamon, briny olives, and sweet dried fruit make up the flavorful base for this weeknight-friendly take on tagine.