Watermelon-Lime Cooler

The first kayakers on the inlet. The first fishermen on the dock. A pediatric burn case Tuesday. I came home and made adobo and did not write a blog post.

Lourdes is 75. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one.

I made lechon kawali Saturday. The pork belly, the brining, the deep fry, the crackle. The kitchen smelled of hot oil for two days.

The blog post this week was about kitchen rituals at Anchorage latitudes. It got six hundred comments.

I am tired in the seasoned way. The tired is the cost of love. I have been paying the cost. The cost is bearable.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

I took a walk on the coastal trail Saturday. The light was good. The body was tired but moving.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I read three chapters of the novel Saturday night before sleep. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The nurse was being undone by her work. I knew the unraveling. I had lived the unraveling. I read on. The reading was the witnessing.

The grocery store had no calamansi, so I brought lime to the Saturday gathering instead, and somewhere between the lumpia trays and the fundraiser table I poured glasses of this cooler for people who needed something cold and bright in their hands. The lime worked. The acceptable always works, once you stop apologizing for it. If you have been paying the cost of love all week and the kitchen still smells of yesterday’s oil, this is the thing to make — quick, simple, and worth passing down the table.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

6 cups seedless watermelon, cubed (about half a small watermelon)
1/4 cup fresh lime juice (about 3 medium limes)
2 tablespoons honey or simple syrup, plus more to taste
1/2 cup cold water
Pinch of fine sea salt
Fresh mint leaves, for garnish
Ice, for serving
Lime slices, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Blend the watermelon. Place cubed watermelon in a blender and puree on high until completely smooth, about 30 seconds.
Strain. Pour the puree through a fine-mesh strainer into a large pitcher, pressing gently with a spoon to extract all the juice. Discard the pulp.
Add lime and sweeten. Stir in the lime juice, cold water, honey or simple syrup, and salt. Taste and adjust sweetness or lime as needed — the balance is yours to find.
Chill if time allows. Refrigerate for up to 30 minutes before serving, or serve immediately over ice.
Serve. Pour over ice in glasses. Garnish with fresh mint leaves and a lime slice if you have them. Pass the pitcher down the table.

Nutrition (per serving)

Watermelon-Lime Cooler — When the Store Has No Calamansi