Memorial Day. The annual building cookout. I cooked for forty people — the usual lineup, perfected through repetition: ribs, chicken, mac and cheese, coleslaw, cornbread, banana pudding, and the smoked wings that have become the crowd favorite. Jerome handled logistics. Mr. Peterson grilled alongside me. Tracy brought her cobbler again (still excellent — she and I have a friendly dessert rivalry that neither of us acknowledges but both of us enjoy).
Marc came to the cookout. He drove up in a new car — well, new to him, a used Dodge Charger that he was unreasonably proud of. He parked it in the lot and spent fifteen minutes telling anyone who would listen about the engine, the speakers, the paint. Marc loves cars the way I love food: completely, vocally, without restraint. He ate four plates. He played with Aiden and Zaria in the parking lot. He arm-wrestled Darius and lost again and blamed the sun again. He was twenty-seven years old and made of light and sound and the specific energy that makes any gathering better by his presence.
I watched him play with the kids. He threw Aiden in the air (Aiden, at seven, is getting too big for this but does not tell Marc because the flying is still fun). He chased Zaria around the parking lot and let her catch him, falling dramatically to the pavement while she stood over him victorious. He is their uncle. He is the fun uncle, the loud uncle, the uncle who shows up with a new car and a new story and a grin that makes you forgive everything he has not done yet.
I think about Marc sometimes. I think about where he is going. He is twenty-seven and working at the warehouse and living with a steadiness that is new for him — same job for two years, same apartment, no new girlfriends this month. He seems to be finding his footing. The ground under Marc has always been uncertain, but it is firmer now, and I am hopeful, and hope for Marc is the most natural thing in the world because Marc is the kind of person you cannot help but hope for.
I sent him home with a plate. Ribs, chicken, mac and cheese. He called me from the car to say, "These ribs are stupid good." Stupid good. From Marc, the man who eats everything and compliments nothing unless he means it. The ribs are stupid good. I am keeping that review forever.
When you’re running a cookout for forty people, the drink situation matters just as much as the food — because the food takes time, and people need something cold in their hands while they wait. This watermelon punch was on the table before the first rack of ribs came off, and it stayed cold and refreshing through every plate Marc stacked, every arm-wrestle Darius lost, and every lap Zaria took around that parking lot. It’s the kind of recipe that does its job quietly, which is exactly what you want when everything else is loud. If you’re feeding a crowd this summer, start here.
Summertime Watermelon Punch for a Crowd
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes (plus chilling) | Servings: 20–24
Ingredients
- 1 small seedless watermelon (about 10–12 lbs), cubed
- 1 cup fresh lime juice (about 8 limes)
- 1/2 cup granulated sugar, or to taste
- 1/2 cup fresh mint leaves, plus more for garnish
- 2 liters lemon-lime soda (such as Sprite or 7UP), chilled
- 1 liter ginger ale, chilled
- 2 cups cold water
- Ice, for serving
- Watermelon slices and lime rounds, for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Blend the watermelon. Working in batches, add the cubed watermelon to a blender and blend until completely smooth. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl or pitcher, pressing the solids with a spoon to extract as much juice as possible. Discard the pulp. You should have roughly 10–12 cups of watermelon juice.
- Make a quick mint simple syrup. Combine the sugar and 1/2 cup of hot water in a small bowl, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Add the mint leaves and let steep for 5 minutes, then strain out the mint and discard. Allow the syrup to cool slightly.
- Mix the base. In a large punch bowl or drink dispenser, combine the watermelon juice, lime juice, mint syrup, and remaining cold water. Stir well to combine. Taste and adjust sweetness with additional sugar if desired.
- Chill before serving. Refrigerate the watermelon base for at least 1 hour before serving, or up to 8 hours in advance. This step is worth it — warm punch over ice dilutes fast.
- Add the fizz. Just before serving, slowly pour in the chilled lemon-lime soda and ginger ale. Stir gently to combine without losing too much carbonation.
- Serve over ice. Fill glasses with ice and ladle in the punch. Garnish with fresh mint sprigs, lime rounds, or a small wedge of watermelon on the rim.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 95 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 20mg
About the cook who shared this
DeShawn Carter
Week 317 of DeShawn’s 30-year story
· Detroit, Michigan
DeShawn is a thirty-six-year-old single dad, auto plant worker, and a man who didn't learn to cook until his wife left and his five-year-old asked, "Daddy, can you cook something?" He called his mama, who came over with two bags of groceries and spent six months teaching him the basics. Now he's the dad at the cookout who brings the ribs, the guy at the plant whose leftover gumbo starts fights, and living proof that it's never too late to learn.