In our yard, we grow a lot of random things. My wife has eight raised garden beds. I’ve got a dozen or so pots of various fruits and berries… We’ve even got a patch of dirt called “The Crazy Patch” where anything goes. Sometimes that anything is grass, and sometimes it’s a hundred sunflowers. But importantly, today it was melons. Only two, but big enough to eat—I’ll take it.
Anyways, we were going to eat one of those two melons tonight, so my wife suggested we get prosciutto to go with it. If you’ve never had prosciutto and melon before, try it sometime. It’s not rocket science: you wrap the meat around slices of the fruit. It’s that salty-sweet combo thing. My wife knows I love me some prosciutto and melon. And it’s got a special place in my heart because it’s the thing that helped me really understand what being an adult was.
When I was a little kid, I very, very occasionally got prosciutto and melon. It wasn’t something we ever made at home, as far as I can remember. I had it at some fancy Italian place my parents dragged me to (probably kicking and screaming) when I was young. It was delicious—I instantly loved it. But it’s not super common, and I think it was relatively expensive, all things considered. So I maybe had it once a year (if that) growing up, always a very special treat.
By my late high school and college years, I can’t say that I remember having it basically at all. Until one day in my mid-20s, when I was shopping and had picked up a melon—just for a healthy snack. Then I happened across prosciutto in the store, and my brain went, “Hey, this is a thing!” I bought them both, brought them home, and made and destroyed an entire plate of prosciutto and melon.
And at that moment, I realized, “This is what being an adult is. I can have prosciutto and melon anytime I want.” Granted, it’s still a rare treat, but now I could enjoy it more.