Watermelon rind Chutney- Trash or Treasure? Virtue or Vice?

One of Roz Chast's most delightful cartoons (of so very many) celebrates the seven deadly virtues:

Of these, "uncalled-for thrift" (at 1 o'clock) has a special place in my heart. Bizarre concessions to economy have been made by my sweet but sometimes truly wacky mother in law over the years; Roz Chast's example is a paltry one (I see your dented cans of peas and raise you a strapless vinyl snakeskin harlot mini dress, in red, obviously, for a 14 year old, but a very good price!). Thrift can be a great source of mirth.

But in the kitchen? Thrift- admittedly virtuous- is sad and small; it has no place in the kitchen. Greed serves us better- it's bold, resourceful, dynamic, and it gets us where we want to be. It's much more akin to hunger than thrift is. It was not some prim 'waste not, want not' thought that prompted me to turn those watermelon rinds- compost by any reasonable measure- into this glistening chutney. It was the memory of the first time I tried it in the Gourmet (how I miss that magazine!), the hand of ginger and a few dried chilies still out on the counter from last night's midnight Chinese noodles (we got homesick watching "Do the Right Thing"), and the fresh mint thriving outside the kitchen window (raita), to say nothing of the heat outside on the veranda. This will turn a handful of basmati into a fine little impromptu meal (chile peppers and lashings of hot tea are so curiously refreshing in the damp August heat). If you want to get the very most out of that chicken/watermelon/bunch of parsley or whatever you have on the counter right now, vice (not virtue) delivers very tasty results.

Trash!

Treasure!

You'll be happy with the result. But, having made it before, I didn't do much measuring at all and I used a few different ingredients. For a chutney you need the fruit or vegetable that is to be the bulk of it, plus tang, heat, and sweetness, plus any aromatics you like. It's enormously flexible- just mix it up to your taste, keeping in mind that it will get more intense, yet also more mellow, as it boils down. It's easy to tweak as you go.

This is what went into today's batch:

4 cups/ 1 liter of diced watermelon rind (dark green skin cut away, some pink flesh clinging to the inside)

1/3 C/large handful finely chopped ginger

4 chile peppers

8 whole allspice berries

a small spoonful of pink peppercorns

a little salt

1/2 C/125 ml vinegar

1/2 C/125 ml water

1/2 C/100 g sugar

a little lime zest after it comes off the heat

This is how to make it:

Slice the wedge of rind into strips 3 or 4 cm wide-
this makes it very easy to safely remove the dark green peel.

The peeled rinds with a pretty strip of red flesh still clinging to them.

The peeled lengths can be cut into narrow strips, then diced-
aim for about 1 cm. or a little smaller.

Carefully cut the ginger into thin slices, then do the same thing.

The ginger will be smaller than the melon, but still large enough
for texture and a nice bite of heat.

Dried red chiles, pink peppercorns, whole allspice berries,
and sugar.

All in the saucepan over medium-high heat

Adding the vinegar-

And the water.

After a moment, the melon releases its juices and it looks like this-
more liquid will come as it boils gently, then it will reduce and become slightly syrupy.
Turn it down and stir it once in awhile. after 20-30 minutes, it will look like this:

Translucent melon chunks still have a bit of crisp bite,
with a jammy spicy syrup through to their core.

Really, it's a bit unfair. This is so vice-quenchingly delicious. And yet, it's hard to suppress the feeling of satisfaction from so virtuously making a beautiful thing from something destined for the garbage can with the help of a handful of spices. Oh, I didn't mention- it fills the house with a sweet exotic perfume as it simmers.