Pickled Watermelon Rind

Mid-September. The book is in its final production stage — the last proofs have been reviewed, the last corrections made, the last comma placed. The book is now, officially, out of my hands. It belongs to the publisher, to the printer, to the distribution system, to the bookstores, to the readers who have not yet read it. The letting-go is both relief and grief, because the book is Fumiko, and letting go of the book is letting go of Fumiko into the world, and the world may or may not be kind, and the kindness or lack thereof is beyond my control, and the beyond-my-control is the thing I have spent thirty-eight years learning to tolerate, and the tolerance is not mastery, the tolerance is just: I can stand here. I can stand here while the book goes. I can stand here and make soup.

I made miso ramen — the full project again, the weekend-long broth, the eight-hour simmer, the rich, opaque, porky soup that is not Fumiko's territory but is mine, the dish I make when I need the comfort of a massive project, when I need to stand at the stove for eight hours and stir and taste and wait. The ramen was extraordinary. The broth was silk. The miso tare was complex. The chashu melted. The egg was jammy. I ate it alone at the small table and the eating was a ceremony of self-care, the eight-hour investment producing one perfect bowl, the bowl the proof that patience and effort and eight hours of standing produce something extraordinary.

The Oregonian ran a preview piece about the book — a short article titled "Portland Writer's Debut Memoir Explores Japanese-American Food and Identity." The article quoted me: "I wrote this book because my grandmother couldn't write it and my father wouldn't write it and someone needed to write it." The quote was accurate. The quote was the truth. The truth is: the story needed telling. The storyteller needed to be me. The me-ness of it was not chosen but accepted, the way a bowl accepts soup, the way a kitchen accepts a cook. The acceptance is the calling. The calling has been answered.

The ramen was the ceremony, but the watermelon rind pickles were the quiet coda — the small, unhurried thing I made the next morning with the rind I’d saved, because Japanese-American kitchens waste nothing and because I needed one more act of patient transformation before I let the week go entirely. There is something in the pickling process — the brine, the wait, the way raw and bitter becomes bright and sweet — that felt exactly right after a week of release. If you make this alongside ramen, or entirely on its own, I think you’ll find the same thing: the patience always produces something worth tasting.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes plus 24 hours chilling | Servings: 8

Ingredients

4 cups watermelon rind, green outer skin removed, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup white distilled vinegar
1 cup rice vinegar
1 cup water
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
1 teaspoon whole coriander seeds
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 small knob fresh ginger (about 1 inch), peeled and thinly sliced

Instructions

Prepare the rind. Using a vegetable peeler or sharp knife, remove all dark green skin from the watermelon rind. Cut the pale green-white rind into 1-inch cubes or strips, leaving a thin edge of pink flesh if desired for color. You should have about 4 cups.
Salt the rind. Place rind pieces in a colander set over a bowl. Toss with 1 tablespoon of the kosher salt and let sit for 15 minutes to draw out excess moisture. Rinse well under cold water and pat dry.
Make the brine. Combine both vinegars, water, sugar, remaining 1 tablespoon salt, peppercorns, coriander seeds, and red pepper flakes (if using) in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring until sugar and salt are fully dissolved, about 3–4 minutes.
Pack the jars. Divide the rind, sliced garlic, and sliced ginger evenly between two clean 1-pint mason jars, packing them in snugly.
Pour and seal. Carefully ladle the hot brine over the rind, filling each jar to within 1/4 inch of the top. Tap jars gently on the counter to release air bubbles. Let cool to room temperature with lids loosely on, then seal and refrigerate.
Wait. Refrigerate for at least 24 hours before eating — 48 hours is better. The rind will turn translucent and the brine will mellow. Pickles keep refrigerated for up to 3 weeks.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pickled Watermelon Rind — The Small, Patient Thing I Made After the Big, Patient Thing