Things to do with a melon in Brooklyn

Woke up, contemplated the unidentified late-summer melon that’s been hanging out in my fridge for a week. Felt sort of reckless. Found a can of coconut milk in the cupboard. Remembered I had two barely-used jars of powdered ginger—one cheap supermarket brand, one potent Penzeys number. (Aside: one of the most humbling things about moving is discovering the far reaches of your spice cabinet. In addition to the two jars of powdered ginger I found three unopened jars of cream of tartar. Apparently I once considered a career in meringue sculpture, then thought better of it.)

Anyway, so: melon in chunks. Contorted myself into the back of the lone under-sink cabinet, retrieved the food processor, moved the knife block onto the stove, balanced the sea salt on top of the coffeepot, put the paper towels on a shelf, wedged the food processor next to the coffeepot so its cord could reach the outlet. Flashed briefly on the kitchen in Portland, the windows, the shelves, my heirloom hardwood table and chairs that were made in Maine by a company that no longer exists. Processed the hell out of that melon. Poured in coconut milk. Large reckless pinches of the good ginger. Tasted. More ginger. You only live once. Poured the mixture into the big red mixing bowl. Ate a few spoonfuls. Cold soup? Sure. Wait. No. Decided to go all the way with this one. Stuck the mixing bowl in the freezer.

I’ll let you know what happens.

Update: Icy. Delicious. Next time with rum.