Fourth of July. The holiday where Indian-Americans demonstrate that they are, in fact, American, by doing exactly what every other American does: eating too much, watching fireworks, and arguing about whether the hot dogs are done.
We went to the community potluck at the park — the annual Edison gathering where forty Indian families set up folding tables and the food spread is the most magnificent collision of cultures you've ever seen. There are samosas next to potato salad. Biryani next to corn on the cob. Jalebi next to apple pie. The kids run around with sparklers and American flag temporary tattoos and nobody thinks any of this is contradictory because it isn't.
Amma brought her chicken 65 (a potluck power move — everyone knows Lakshmi's chicken 65 is the best and she knows they know and the knowledge sustains her). Pushpa brought undhiyu, because Pushpa brings undhiyu to everything. I brought watermelon chaat — cubed watermelon tossed with chaat masala, mint, lime juice, and a pinch of black salt. It's not traditional anything — not Indian, not American — but it's perfect for a July afternoon when the heat makes you want something sweet and salty and cold.
Raj played cricket with the dads in the field. He's terrible at cricket — he's more of a basketball person — but he plays because community participation is not optional when you're married into Edison's Indian network. Appa umpired, which means he stood at one end looking authoritative and occasionally saying "out" with the finality of a Supreme Court justice.
Arvind came with news: the formal contractor's license ceremony is later this month. He's officially, legally, Arvind Krishnamurthy, Licensed HVAC Contractor. He told me at the potluck, standing by the samosa table, eating his third samosa with the specific satisfaction of a man who has earned every bite.
"I'm proud of you," I said.
"Don't make it weird, Akka."
"I'm your sister. It's my job to make it weird."
Fireworks at dusk. We sat on a blanket — Raj and me, Amma and Appa, Arvind — and watched colors explode over Edison, New Jersey, the town where two people from India built a life and raised two children who eat samosas at a Fourth of July picnic and call it home.
Appa watched the fireworks and said nothing, because that's how Appa watches everything. But he was there. Consistently. Without fanfare. For thirty-two years.
The watermelon chaat was gone in twenty minutes. Three people asked for the recipe. I gave them the real one.
Three people asked for the watermelon chaat recipe that afternoon, and I gave them the real one — but the dish that kept pulling me back all evening was this one, because it lives in the same beautiful tension: something sweet, something salty, something cold and bright cutting through the heat of a July afternoon. Prosciutto Wrapped Zucchini Over Melon Pasta captures exactly that spirit — the melon does what the watermelon does, and the prosciutto brings the salt the way chaat masala and black salt do, and together they make something that feels like it shouldn’t work until the moment it obviously does. This is the recipe I’ll bring next year, because any dish that channels that same sweet-and-salty magic belongs at a table where samosas sit next to potato salad and nobody thinks that’s strange.
Prosciutto Wrapped Zucchini Over Melon Pasta
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 12 oz linguine or spaghetti
- 2 medium zucchini, cut into 3-inch spears
- 8 thin slices prosciutto
- 2 cups cantaloupe or honeydew melon, cut into small cubes
- 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
- 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
- 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Instructions
- Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook linguine or spaghetti according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, reserve 1/2 cup of pasta water. Drain and set aside.
- Wrap the zucchini. Lay each prosciutto slice flat and place a zucchini spear at one end. Roll the prosciutto around the zucchini at a slight angle, overlapping as you go, to cover most of the surface. Repeat with remaining spears.
- Sear the wrapped zucchini. Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the prosciutto-wrapped zucchini in a single layer and cook, turning occasionally, until the prosciutto is golden and crispy and the zucchini is just tender, about 6—8 minutes. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
- Build the pasta base. Reduce the heat to medium. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil to the same skillet. Add the minced garlic and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant but not browned.
- Toss the pasta. Add the drained pasta to the skillet along with the melon cubes. Toss gently to combine, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time until the pasta is lightly coated and the melon begins to release its juice into the sauce.
- Finish and season. Add the lemon juice, torn basil, and Parmesan. Season with salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Toss once more to bring everything together.
- Plate and serve. Divide the pasta among four shallow bowls. Top each portion with two prosciutto-wrapped zucchini spears. Serve immediately while the prosciutto is still crispy.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 480 | Protein: 22g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 62g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 890mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 67 of Priya’s 30-year story
· Edison, New Jersey
Priya is a pharmacist, wife, and mom of two in Edison, New Jersey — the town she grew up in, surrounded by the sights and smells of her mother's South Indian kitchen. These days, she splits her time between the hospital pharmacy, school pickups, and her own kitchen, where she cooks nearly every night. Her style is a blend of the Tamil recipes her mother taught her and the American comfort food her kids actually want to eat. She writes about the beautiful mess of balancing two cultures on one plate — and she wants you to know that ordering pizza is also an act of love.