Sometimes less is more so this post will (maybe) have fewer words and more pictures that will tell the story of my mother's children and grandchildren trying to re-create something magical - her Watermelon Rind Pickle recipe. It takes a village. Are you surprised? The cast of Hackney characters to tackle the project from left to right, Lou's son and my nephew, Robert, my sister Lou, my 'sister-in-law', Susan, my brother, Johnny, and the glue that's holding it all together in the rear of the picture, well that's your pickle tour guide, me. Read on:

In the beginning there were watermelon growers Ann and Larry Boyette and without them there wouldn't be a story to post or pickles to make because there wouldn't be a watermelon and that's at the center of this tale. Ann works at John Hackney Agency and who knew when I hired her that I was not only getting one of the best receptionists in the world but also a state wide watermelon growing champion? Larry and Ann have won many NC State Fair Blue ribbons and they were gracious enough to agree to grow this special, thick rind watermelon so Lou and I could make Mother's old watermelon rind pickle recipe. Mom stopped making these pickles because she couldn't find melons with thick rinds. The Man with the Plan wanted the Hackneys to make pickles again when He put Ann with me at the Hackney Agency. I had just written the Tall Tales and Hackney Family Recipes Cookbook (2015) for my family and friends as a Christmas present. It had been a huge success - I gave away all of the 60 copies that were printed - New York Times Best Seller List are you paying attention? One of the recipes I included was this one, I wanted to make it and here was someone who I work with every day who was willing to grow exactly the special type of watermelon I needed to make it. Magic was happening.

Here's a picture of our 150 pound watermelon fresh from the field before going into the back of my car. Larry says every watermelon must be named so he named this one "Blossom" but I'm not sure why-I need to ask that question. There was a second watermelon Larry grew for us but I wasn't sure what to do with 300 pounds of watermelon so the second one was left at the Boyette Farm alter. Blossom, on the other hand, is in for an interesting weekend as I whisked her away to Atlantic Beach to make her into the sweetest, gingeriest, crunchy, yummy old fashioned watermelon rind pickles you've ever tasted. Hopefully just like the ones I had for every Thanksgiving and Christmas when I was a kid.

Speaking of kids, my granddaughter, Page, spent the week with Susan and me and she rode with me to pick up the watermelon from Larry and Ann before going to my cousin Marianne's house for burgers and a swim in her pool. Picking up the melon would be a great field trip for a six year or, or so I thought, but Page was more keen on going swimming. She was very patient with me and posed very nicely with the watermelon before scampering back into the car, jumping into the car seat, buckling herself in and saying, "Tom Tom.....Tom Tom......can we please go swimming now!?" Huge watermelons and pickles don't impress her (yet) but being able to go swimming does. The equivalent for me when I was her age when having to wait for my mother? Honking the horn constantly until I got her attention. No wonder I stayed in trouble.....

The melon lived in my car for 36 hours on a tobacco cloth, with a box behind it to keep it from rolling around. Originally, I thought something that big might not roll. Wrong. Before placing the box behind this huge melon, it rolled when I came to a quick stop just after leaving the Boyette farm and you can imagine the thud a 150 pound watermelon makes when hitting the back of a seat. Page glanced back into the cargo space and said she couldn't see any cracks in the melon or melon juice flowing (thank goodness for small favors) so I said a little prayer until we arrived at Marianne's house and I could take a closer look for myself. I was expecting melon-Armageddon in the tailgate area but everything was A-OK. With the box behind it securing it from another roll, the rest of the 35 1/2 hours in the car went more smoothly and I was more careful at stoplights and stop signs, I parked under trees for shade and kept the windows rolled down if I was leaving the car for any length of time. The next morning while at McDonald's while waiting for the drive-through I did see a large crack, but it wasn't on my melon. Thank goodness for small favors. Really.

I arrived at Atlantic Beach this morning a little tired from doing 5 days of work in 3, and all the extra babysitting my watermelon was taking but my sister, Lou, and her son, Robert, couldn't wait to see the humongo-melon and as soon as I opened up the tailgate their Anne Hackney genes popped out and they demanded I take their picture with it. The pic turned out great, if I say so myself, and I couldn't help but think their channeling of Mother is a great sign the pickle recipe is going to turn out just as it's supposed to. I can just feel it in my bones. And my constantly clicking camera. They want me to take their picture doing everything. By the way, have you noticed this blog is getting a little wordy and is no longer just about the pictures? I apologize but you can just look at the pictures if you want to. Now I'm turning into my father. Oh, God.

As great as Lou and Robert look in a picture, they're not much on moving a large watermelon so Jose and George from Crystal Coast Landscapping came to our rescue to get it from the car to the table on the deck so we could cut it up. They got the giggles over the humongous watermelon and how awkward it was to tote it from one place to the other so they had to stop and laugh for a minute at how they must look. Very quickly they pulled themselves together and moved the melon up the final set of stairs so we could cut it up but before that could happen, Lou asked them to take our picture. Mother comes out in my sister. Again.

Everyone has a job they're great at. Jose and George are great at lawn care and moving huge watermelons but clearly photography isn't their thing but who cares, that means I don't have to write a lot to explain the picture. You just breathed a huge sigh of relief, didn't you? Wait....does Lou's left boob look slightly bigger than the right one to you? (That's a diversionary tactic to keep you from looking at my belly. Actually, it really does look bigger. Her boob....not my belly.) Did I really say that? Where's the magic to make it disappear? My belly.....not her boob.

Skinning the watermelon with a knife would have taken a very, very long time so Lou had the brilliant idea to skin it with a cheese slicer. We (meaning Lou) had the melon naked in 15 minutes or less. Incredible. It was such a great idea she's going to patent it. Please don't tell anyone because she could become a ThousandAire with this idea. Any interested patent attorneys please inbox me for Lou's contact info.

And here it is-the Marilyn Monroe of Naked Melons. Add a little blue draping. The sea in the background. Naked Melon Perfection just in case you've ever wondered what a totally nude 149 pound watermelon looked like. Eat your heart out Hugh Hefner.

We cut the rind to crack the melon open to see the beautiful pink fruit inside and the perfectly thick rind we're looking for to make just the right watermelon rind pickles. More arrows are pointing to watermelon pickle perfection. Everything is going exactly as it should. My mother would be proud. Oh, and she'd tell us to take a picture so here it is.

Option 1 caption-Slicing and dicing-mother and son ready to go. Option 2 caption-Not going there but they could be scary and I kept a safe distance just in case.

Here's what the rind looks like before it's cut into the bit size pieces. All the pink fruit has been removed and stored. When I think back to the old days when someone took the time to find a use for the watermelon rind, it's quite incredible. Why not just throw it away? It's another example of thrifty people not wasting any part of what was being grown and eaten on a farm. Nothing was wasted. The end result is incredibly delicious and not at all what you might expect. But it is a lot of work and at the end of today we're not even half way through the long process. Picture

Robert is removing the fruit from the rinds and then I clean the remaining small amount of fruit from the rinds. Lastly, Lou cuts the rinds into bite size pieces. Mother's pieces were not uniform and some of us liked to eat the square pieces of pickles, some liked the rectangular pieces and others liked the pieces that were wedge shaped. I think about these shapes as I watch Lou cut them up. I also notice that my job of cleaning the rinds is the one where mistakes are least noticeable which is how I ended up with that fool-proof job. I'm OK with that.

At the end of the day, we've cut and weighed 30 pounds of watermelon rind, which means we're making the original recipe times 6. The rind pieces are put into lime water overnight which will crisp them up. The old recipe called for Lilly Lime Water but that's no longer made so we use Mrs. Wage's Lime.

Tomorrow we will wash the lime water off of them, cook the rinds in cracked ginger, make a syrup of sugar and pickling spices, cook them again and lastly can them. We estimate there will be between 80 and 100 jars to put up and it will take most of the day to complete the task and maybe Saturday as well. Tonight we're going to have a decadent dinner at Pescara on the Circle and toast our first day of pickle making.

Earlier in the day, Gina Gibbons Williams, our lifelong friend originally from Wilson, who now lives in Morehead and who always has had it all (she looks the same at 50-something as she did at 20-something), heard about our family pickling weekend and said, "I wish I was a Hackney for a day". All these years we had wished we could be a Gibbons for just an hour because the Gibbons kids were smart, handsome, athletic and such well rounded folks. Who knew making watermelon pickles could make one of them want to be one of us for a day? I swear, watermelon pickles are magical. If only eating one of them would make me look 20-something we'd be onto something but they're not that magical.

Damn.