Watermelon Mimosas

Fourth of July. The first one where the absence of Marlene is a specific shape at the table — not the general absence of the pandemic Fourths, when nobody came because nobody could, but the specific absence of 2021, when the pandemic is receding and the table could be full but one chair will never be filled again.

Roger came to Des Moines. The first time he's driven to us instead of us driving to him — Kevin suggested it, gently, and Roger agreed, which surprised everyone because Roger leaving Grinnell requires an act of will that Roger usually reserves for crop emergencies. He drove his truck, slowly, carefully, the forty miles taking an hour and fifteen minutes because Roger drives at the speed limit on highways and below it on back roads and his definition of "back roads" includes most of Interstate 80.

The spread: pork tenderloin sandwiches, potato salad, baked beans, corn on the cob (not ours yet — market corn, the garden corn two weeks away). Watermelon from Jack's garden — the first cut, ceremonial, Jack wielding the knife with the gravity of a boy performing a sacrament. The watermelon was red and sweet and dripping, and we ate it on the deck the way we've always eaten it, hands and juice and seeds, and Roger ate a slice and said, "Marlene loved watermelon." Past tense again. The tense that is becoming comfortable in his mouth, not easy but natural, the grammar of a man who is learning to speak about his wife the way the calendar speaks about her, which is in the was and the used-to and the she-would-have.

Noah played saxophone. Not "The Star-Spangled Banner" — "Summertime," his song, the song he plays when the light is right and the audience is family and the music means more than music. The notes floated over the garden and the deck and the six people sitting in lawn chairs, and the seventh person was missing but the notes found the empty space and filled it, temporarily, with sound, and the sound was enough.

Roger ate that watermelon slice and said Marlene’s name, and something about that moment — the juice on his hands, the past tense in his voice — made me want to carry it forward into something we could lift and clink together, all six of us. Watermelon has always been the most communal thing on a Fourth of July table, and this year it felt like it meant more than it ever had. These Watermelon Mimosas are what I made the following morning, a quieter version of the celebration, because some toasts are better made gently — cold glass, pink bubbles, and the sweetness of a fruit that Roger’s wife used to love.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 cups seedless watermelon, cubed (about 1/4 of a small melon)
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 tablespoon honey or agave syrup (optional, to taste)
1 bottle (750 ml) chilled dry sparkling wine or Champagne
Fresh mint sprigs, for garnish
Small watermelon wedges or triangles, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Blend the watermelon. Add the cubed watermelon and lime juice to a blender. If your watermelon is not very sweet, add honey or agave syrup. Blend on high until completely smooth, about 30–45 seconds.
Strain the juice. Pour the blended watermelon through a fine mesh strainer into a pitcher, pressing gently with a spoon to extract all the liquid. Discard the solids. You should have roughly 1 1/2 to 2 cups of fresh watermelon juice. Chill until ready to serve.
Fill the glasses. Pour about 1/3 cup (roughly 2 1/2 to 3 ounces) of chilled watermelon juice into each champagne flute or wine glass.
Top with sparkling wine. Slowly pour chilled sparkling wine or Champagne over the watermelon juice to fill the glass, tilting the glass slightly to preserve the bubbles. The ratio should be approximately 1 part watermelon juice to 2 parts sparkling wine.
Garnish and serve. Add a sprig of fresh mint and a small watermelon wedge on the rim if desired. Serve immediately while cold and effervescent.

Nutrition (per serving)

Watermelon Mimosas — The Slice Roger Took for Marlene