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Summertime Fruit Salad — The One That Made Keisha Ask for the Recipe

First week of August and the heat is a wall. I drive to work with the AC blasting and I drive home the same way and in between I am inside the daycare which has central air that works most of the time. Alabama August is not subtle about itself.

I made watermelon salad this week, which is not cooking so much as it is assembly with intention. Cubed watermelon, crumbled feta, fresh mint, a squeeze of lime, a tiny drizzle of honey. I brought it to work in a container and ate it at my desk for lunch and Keisha said what is that and I gave her a bite and she said you need to make this for my next thing. I will.

On Sunday we made pound cake again, this time for James, who had a birthday this week. He is sixty-eight years old. He wanted pound cake with fresh peaches on the side, which is his preferred birthday dessert and has been for as long as Gloria has known him, and she has known him since 1979. I made the cake mostly myself this time, Gloria watching from the kitchen table. I creamed the butter and sugar until it was very pale and light, a full six minutes in her old stand mixer. She reminded me to add the eggs one at a time. The cake came out perfect. James ate two slices and called me his favorite baker and I felt every bit of that compliment land in my chest where I keep the important things.

The college textbook arrived. I have read the first chapter twice. It is dense and interesting and uses vocabulary I do not always know but I am writing down the words I do not know and looking them up. This is something I can do. I know that about myself now.

The watermelon salad I brought to work that week — the one Keisha wanted me to make for her next thing — is really just this: a bigger, more generous version of that same instinct to let good summer fruit do the work. I’ve been making some variation of this Summertime Fruit Salad every August for a few years now, and it is the recipe I reach for when the heat takes away any desire to actually cook. You assemble it. You chill it. You bring it somewhere in a big bowl and people ask you what’s in it and you tell them and they say they would never have thought of that. That’s the whole point.

Summertime Fruit Salad

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes (plus 30 minutes chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 4 cups seedless watermelon, cubed into 1-inch pieces
  • 2 cups fresh strawberries, hulled and halved
  • 1 cup fresh blueberries
  • 1 cup red or green grapes, halved
  • 2 peaches or nectarines, pitted and sliced
  • 1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese
  • 1/4 cup fresh mint leaves, torn
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 large lime)
  • 1 tablespoon honey
  • 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt

Instructions

  1. Prep the fruit. Cube the watermelon, halve the strawberries, slice the peaches, and halve the grapes. Add everything to a large bowl along with the blueberries.
  2. Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the lime juice and honey until the honey is fully dissolved. Taste and adjust — if your fruit is very sweet, lean toward more lime. If it’s on the tart side, add a little more honey.
  3. Combine. Pour the dressing over the fruit and toss gently to coat. You want everything glossy but not bruised.
  4. Add the toppings. Scatter the crumbled feta, torn mint leaves, and flaky sea salt over the top. Do not stir these in — you want them sitting on top so they stay distinct.
  5. Chill before serving. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. The fruit will release some juice and the flavors will come together. Serve cold, straight from the bowl.
  6. For transport. If you’re bringing this to work or a gathering, keep the feta and mint separate and add them just before serving so they don’t wilt or sink.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 118 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 115mg

Savannah Clarke
About the cook who shared this
Savannah Clarke
Week 69 of Savannah’s 30-year story · Prattville, Alabama
Savannah is twenty-seven, engaged, and a daycare worker in Prattville, Alabama, who grew up in foster care and never had a kitchen to call her own until she was nineteen. She taught herself to cook from YouTube videos and church cookbooks, and now she makes fried chicken that would make your grandmother jealous. She writes for the girls who grew up like her — without a family recipe box, without a mama in the kitchen, without anyone to show them how. She's showing them now.

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