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Noodles the Czech Way

Beseda Hall was without kolaches. No dancers could be seen in Sokol Park, and downtown Tabor was devoid of polka music. Lidice Street seemed strangely empty and quiet when we rolled into town.”Are we in the right place?” we wondered.

If you’ve only been to Tabor during Czech Days, you might not recognize the little Bon Homme County town during the 362 days a year when quiet reigns. The silence we found on our Monday morning visit stood in sharp contrast to the bustle inside American Legion Post 183, where a chaotic scene was unfolding.

Members of the Czech Heritage Preservation Society and volunteers were in the Legion kitchen getting ready to start mixing on their annual noodle-making day.”It’s a little disorganized right now. It’ll get better as time goes on,” Ann Beran, one of Czech Days’ official kolache-making demonstrators, told us.

A pattern began to emerge from the clatter of mixers and chatter of 20-some people crowding the kitchen. One woman cracked eggs into ice cream pails — each bucket containing enough for a batch of noodles. Another measured flour. At a third station, eggs, oil and salt were being mixed. Next, a heavy-duty mixer brought the beaten eggs and flour together. Another team kneaded more flour into each batch of noodles, setting their bowls in the Legion’s double sink, a more comfortable height. Others sliced and rolled the dough into smaller portions, which were then fed through the pasta attachments on KitchenAids. A pair of young brothers carried the flattened dough out to a room full of sheet-covered tables, where the yellow ovals would dry slightly before returning to the kitchen to be cut into two sizes of noodles: thick and spaghetti-sizes.”I told that little boy we’re going to fill all these tables. He said, ‘Are you sure?'” Beran said.

Beran was sure. The society makes 20 to 22 batches of noodles every year for Czech Days, selling the noodles in Vancura Park and the Gift and Information Center, located on Lidice Street in the town’s community center. The noodle sales generate funds to help preserve the historic buildings and artifacts in Vancura Park. The park’s mini pioneer village contains an 1873 log schoolhouse, St. John the Baptist Pioneer Chapel, the original Tabor jail, a log house and other buildings that highlight what life was like in the community’s early days.

While Tabor residents have long had a passion for their roots, in recent years, Czech Heritage Preservation Society members have become more aware of the subtle nuances of saving history.”We are finding that some of the things we thought we were preserving aren’t being preserved enough,” said Susan Schroeder, a society member. Thanks to grants and the sale of personalized bricks that create a heritage walk through the Vancura Park village, the society has been able to oil the two log buildings and reroof two other structures. Volunteers are in the process of organizing the museum’s collections and digitizing photographs. The ultimate goal is to open the Czech village to the public three days a week.

Volunteers are also essential to making enough noodles to save a village, especially during the drying phase, when dough is ferried back and forth to the kitchen before cutting.”We need lots of runners because some of us are old and we run with a limp,” laughs Adeline Merkwan. She grew up speaking Czech, and once taught the language in the local school. She’s been one of the Czech Preservation Heritage Society’s stalwarts since noodle-making began about 20 years ago. She recommends using the noodles in soup.”Chicken noodle, beef noodle, anything you put a noodle in. It’s a farm thing.”

While noodles might not be the first thought that comes to mind when you think of Czech cuisine, many of the volunteers were raised in homes where their moms rolled the noodles out in a big circle and then hung them over a chair to dry.

Even with modern technology, it’s still a labor-intensive process. The Legion Hall group was friendly and sociable, but at-home noodle makers sometimes consider the project a good marriage test. Ann Beran said,”If a marriage survives making noodles, sorting hogs and doing plumbing, you’ve got it made.”


Czech Days Noodles

12 eggs

3/4 cup oil

4 teaspoons salt

9 cups flour

With a heavy-duty mixer, combine eggs, oil and salt until the eggs are thoroughly mixed. Switch to a dough hook attachment and slowly spoon in about 4 cups of flour, stopping when you have a pliable, kneadable dough. Knead in more flour by hand until you have a stiff, round ball of dough that is not sticky. You might not use all the flour. Cut the dough into egg-sized pieces and roll them out into a 2 x 5 inch oval, stopping when it’s thin and pliable enough to go through your pasta machine, about 1/8 inch thick.

Let the flattened dough dry, turning once, until the dough feels slightly leatherlike but is still flexible enough to be cut. Do not let the dough become too dry or it will become brittle. Using a knife or a pasta machine, cut the dough into strips. Lay noodles over a tablecloth for a day or two, tossing gently about two times a day, until they are completely dry.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the July/August 2015 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Supper at the Calfeteria

One of my jobs is working as a substitute teacher in our local school district. It is interesting and challenging work, and this year, a couple of maternity leaves have pulled me in long term to cover classes.

Unlike dropping in for just a quick day, long term subbing involves a lot more preparation and stamina. Kids will be kids, and it is their nature to test boundaries. The days can be mentally and physically exhausting. However, there are always bright spots and humorous moments to lighten the load.

Recently, while grading elementary spelling tests, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. We live in the middle of cattle country. Many students make their homes on and are active participants in their family’s cattle ranches. Beef is big business here, and often the forethought in many minds. Nothing made this more clear than seeing”calfeteria” on a spelling test. Of course this student wouldn’t eat lunch in a plain, old cafeteria. Cattle, calves and beef are life for these farm kids.

Beef is also life for a simple meal I have been throwing together lately. While Hubs and I have relied on take-out more often than I care to admit on days when I feel like a herd of cattle ran over me, occasionally I have managed to get a home cooked meal on the table. Sheet Pan Beef Fajitas take minimal effort and the hands-off cooking method allows me a bit more time to grade those spelling tests.

The seasoning can be adjusted to suit your own tastes, and this meal is just as good served over rice if you don’t have tortillas. There is no need to hit up the”calfeteria” for dinner when Sheet Pan Skillet Fajitas can be on your table.


Beef fajitas are a hit in cattle country.

Sheet Pan Skillet Fajitas

(adapted from Cooking Light)

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon cumin

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon chipotle chile powder

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

12 ounces flank steak, sliced think

2 medium peppers, sliced (green, red, yellow, whatever your favorite may be)

1 1/2 cups sliced onions

corn kernels cut from one ear (alternatively, about 1/2-3/4 cup frozen sweet corn)

1/4 cup cilantro leaves

1 lime, cut into wedges

1/2 cup sour cream

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon lime juice

1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper

8 tortillas, corn or flour

Preheat the broiler with oven rack in the top position. Place a rimmed baking sheet in the oven to warm as the oven preheats.

Whisk together oil, cumin, salt, chile powder and black pepper in a bowl. Toss the sliced steak with half of the oil mixture. Toss peppers, onions and corn with the other half.

Remove the hot pan from the oven and arrange the pepper and onion mixture in a single layer on it. Broil 10 minutes, or until almost tender. Pull pan from the oven and push pepper/onion mixture to the sides. Arrange steak in a single layer in the center of the pan. Broil 3 minutes, or until steak reaches desired doneness. Sprinkle cilantro and lime wedges over the pan.

Combine 1/4 teaspoon salt, sour cream, lime juice and ground red pepper. Heat tortillas according to package directions. Serve both with steak mixture. (Serves 4.)

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

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Forbidden Fish

While watching television one evening, a commercial for instant mashed potatoes caught my attention. As the camera pans across a table laden with food, an announcer mentions the plate of fish sticks that are to be served up for dinner with that creamy bowl of potatoes, and I am a goner. Every. Single. Time. I want those fish sticks. Forget the fake mashed potatoes; I need those fish sticks.

I believe that I can trace the yearnings for fish sticks back to my childhood. Those breaded chunks of pressed together, flaky, white meat were a special meal for rare occasions when my father wasn’t home. Fish (and poultry) were not on his list of favorite foods, and seldom served when he was at the head of the table. Fish sticks weren’t exactly forbidden, but they might as well have been — and we all know how the desire for something grows exponentially when it is outlawed. Logic tells me that fish sticks aren’t really that good. But cravings are never logical, are they?

Thankfully fish is no longer prohibited from my table. If I wanted, I could have fish sticks every day of the week. Also, thankfully, I know that with only a bit more effort than it takes to pour a box of frozen rectangles onto a baking sheet, I can have fish that is much more delicious. Roasted Cod with Panko is also prepared in the oven, but the lemon and parsley seasoned crumb topping is better than any manufactured breading. It’s quick, easy and it more than delightfully satisfies any fish stick craving.


Roasted Cod with Panko

(adapted from Fine Cooking)

1 cup panko bread crumbs

3 tablespoons butter, melted

3 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped

2 teaspoons fresh lemon zest

kosher salt

freshly ground black pepper

6 1- to 1-1/2-inch-thick cod fillets

Heat oven to 425F.

Combine panko, butter, parsley and lemon zest. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Line a heavy, rimmed baking sheet with parchment. (I have had luck with the non-stick aluminum foil, also.)

Arrange the fish on the baking sheet and season on all sides with salt and pepper.

Divide the crumb topping among the fillets, pressing lightly to adhere.

Roast until the breadcrumbs are browned and the fish is cooked through, 10-15 minutes, depending on thickness of the fish. (Serves 6)

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

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Super Skillet

I have previously shared that I am probably the least athletic person alive, and aside from following our local high school team enough to not embarrass myself while subbing, I am not a sports fan by any measure. However, I am told that the upcoming Sunday game is more about the food than anything else. So, here I am, cheering from the sofa with a vat of nachos in front of me. My version of Skillet Nachos is much like a warm variety of Seven-Layer Dip. It has seasoned beef and beans, melty cheese and all the toppings you have been dreaming of digging into with crispy tortilla chips. Turn on the game, or not. It doesn’t matter to me. Just enjoy the nachos.

Skillet Nachos will please football and food fans alike.

Skillet Nachos

(adapted from Cooking Light)

olive oil

1/2 cup chopped yellow onion

1/2 pound ground beef

2 teaspoons cumin

2 teaspoons chili powder

1 teaspoon garlic powder

salt and pepper, to taste

1/4 cup plain tomato sauce

1 cup canned pinto beans, drained

1/2 cup shredded Monterey jack cheese

1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese

1/2 cup chopped tomato

1/2 cup chopped avocado

1/2 of a jalapeno, sliced

1/4 cup black olives, sliced

1/4 cup chopped red onion

2 tablespoons Mexican crema or sour cream

Tortilla chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Heat oil in a large cast-iron skillet. Add yellow onion and sautƈ until tender. Add ground beef and crumble, cooking until no longer pink. Add the seasonings and tomato sauce and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer and add the beans. Cook a couple of minutes to evaporate extra liquid. Stir in Monterey jack cheese. Remove pan from heat.

Sprinkle with cheddar cheese and place skillet in the oven for 8-10 minutes until the cheese is melted. Top with remaining ingredients and serve with tortilla chips. (Serves 4-6)

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and two dogs reside near Colome.

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When Carrots Become Candy

It is early January, and we have all been bombarded with advertising, social media posts and probably a few conversations about dieting, resetting, detoxing and all sorts of keyword-heavy suggestions on how to improve our lives. I just say,”Ugh.” Enough with the crazy vocabulary, crazier diets and mandatory hating yourself.

Of course, we could probably use a few more vegetables and a little (or a lot) more activity, but we don’t need to beat ourselves up over it. Part of a healthy life is enjoying the moment, even if that moment isn’t perfect. Balance those last Christmas cookies with taking the dog for a walk. Develop a new favorite salad dressing and toss it with a big bowl of greens as a side with every meal. And speaking of greens, those aren’t the only healthy vegetables. There truly is something to be said for eating the rainbow.

Currently, I am stuck on all the golden hues. I am baking sweet potatoes, roasting acorn and butternut squashes, and even giving carrots top billing in my menus. If you are only dispatching raw carrots to the cruditƈ plate, you are missing out. The high heat of roasting brings out the natural sweetness in a way that makes carrots just as delicious as candy. These tubers are also packed with nutrients, fiber and antioxidants (just in case you were missing those healthy vocabulary words).


Carrots roasted in a brown sugar glaze provide a sweet treat without derailing any New Year’s healthy eating resolutions.

Brown Sugar Glazed Roasted Carrots

2 pounds carrots

olive oil

kosher salt

freshly ground pepper

brown sugar

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

Peel carrots and chop into 3- to 4-inch lengths; cut each section lengthwise into fourths. (If some fourths seem especially thick, you may want to halve again, but don’t make the carrot sections too thin or they will overcook quickly.)

On a rimmed baking sheet, toss the carrots with olive oil. (I start with about a tablespoon and then add more as needed to thoroughly coat.) Season with salt and pepper. Spread the carrots out on the pan in an even layer. Allow as much space between the carrots as possible. (If the carrots are crowded, they will steam rather than roast.)

Roast the carrots for 20 minutes, then pull the pan from the oven and stir the carrots. (The carrots should be softening, and you may see the beginning of caramelization.) Return pan to the oven and roast an additional 15-20 minutes. Again, pull the carrots from the oven and sprinkle with brown sugar. (Here, less is more. I start with about a tablespoon, and seldom need more.) Toss to coat the carrots with the sugar and return to the oven for just 2-5 minutes to melt the sugar and create a glaze. Serve immediately. (Yield: 4 servings, but I have eaten the entire pan all by myself.)

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and two dogs reside near Colome.

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Thankful for Squash

Sweet potatoes are considered a traditional part of many Thanksgiving menus. Families have their favorite recipes for boiling, mashing or roasting. Some have a back-of-the-box method for topping with a crunchy cereal or nut topping. Many feature toasted marshmallows as the finishing touch. However, I didn’t grow up with sweet potatoes on any holiday table. My mother made butternut squash.

Butternut squash was a staple from our family’s garden. It makes sense that Mom would incorporate it into a harvest meal of thankfulness. Back in the day, she would peel and chunk the winter squash into large pieces. The flesh would then be boiled until tender, drained, placed in a casserole dish, sprinkled with brown sugar, and topped with A LOT of marshmallows. That casserole would be slid into the oven until the tops of the marshmallows were toasted and golden and the lower portion had melded with the brown sugar to make a syrupy sauce. It was one of my favorite parts of the meal, and I felt a pang of sadness if there weren’t enough for leftovers.

Today, I also serve butternut squash as part of our Thanksgiving meal. I have moved past boiling, and instead toss cubes of the sweet squash with olive oil, salt, pepper and just a bit of brown sugar. Those are roasted until tender on the inside and crisped on the outside. It is fabulous.

Sometimes, I do miss those toasted marshmallows, but Roasted Butternut Squash is a healthy and delicious side for which I will always be immensely thankful.


Family tradition puts roasted butternut squash on Fran Hill’s Thanksgiving table.

Roasted Butternut Squash

3 cups butternut squash, peeled and cubed

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon olive oil

kosher salt

freshly cracked black pepper

Preheat oven to 475 degrees F. Toss together all ingredients on a sheet pan, making sure to coat well. Arrange in a single layer. Roast for 20 minutes, until squash is tender. Stir halfway through roasting time. (Serves 4)

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

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Can the Can

I grew up with a tube of Ocean Spray jellied cranberry sauce on the Thanksgiving (and Christmas) tables. I loved its tart vibrancy, and still do.

When I married, I was disappointed to not find cranberries of any kind on my in-laws’ holiday table. A few years into our marriage when I shared a Cranberry Cake with Warm Butter Sauce, it became clear that cranberries were not my father-in-law’s favorite when he complimented the cake by saying,”That sauce kinda kills the taste of the cranberries.”

It didn’t occur to me that someone might not like the brisk bite of cranberries. To me, they are a given part of the fall and winter season. There is a thrill of excitement when I first see them appear at the grocery store, and I always pick up a few extra bags to toss into the freezer.

Admittedly, I wasn’t a fan of the first homemade cranberries I encountered. A friend’s mom had made a relish with ground raw cranberries, citrus, nuts, and if memory serves me correctly, onion. It was, to be polite, pungent for my inexperienced palate, and I have since steered clear of cranberry relishes.

However, even though I love the canned delight of Ocean Spray, I couldn’t resist the lure of homemade cranberry sauce. Preparing it is so much like the simple jams and jellies I create all canning season, minus the tedious cauldron of boiling water to process and seal the jars. Combine berries, a little orange juice, wine, sugar and just a shake of cinnamon in a pot to simmer. That’s it. So simple. So good. Don’t tell the turkey, but homemade cranberry sauce could easily be the jewel of the holiday meal.


Homemade Cranberry Sauce

1 bag (12 ounces) fresh cranberries

3/4 cup sugar

1 cup orange juice

1 cup white wine (something sweet, like a Riesling, works, but I have used Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Grigio, as well)

zest of one orange

shake of cinnamon

pinch of salt

Combine cranberries, sugar, orange juice, wine, zest, cinnamon and salt in a heavy pan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and then reduce to low and simmer for 20 minutes. Stir occasionally to prevent burning. Remove from heat and refrigerate until ready to serve. Sauce will thicken as it cools.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their two dogs ranch near Colome.

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The Best of Two Seasons

Oh, hey there, Autumn. You snuck up on me. Sunny summer days with high humidity hung around so long that when the cool chill of fall air hit, it shocked me. Of course, I knew that the calendar had registered both the unofficial end of summer, Labor Day, and the official start of fall. I wasn’t blind to stores filling with Halloween and Thanksgiving decor. Restaurants have been rotating to fall menus full of love-it-or-hate-it pumpkin spice. Still, I was caught up in summer, blissfully ignoring all autumnal hints.

I blame the garden. Truly, the best time for the garden is near the end. The harvests can be so glorious and bountiful. Who wants to think about fall when there are buckets of tomatoes, baskets of peppers, zucchini, some late sweet corn, beans, carrots, beets and a host of other garden-fresh vegetables? Whether it is your own home grown produce or a farmers market haul, end of the season meals can be so amazingly delicious.

I have been tossing together a quick and light version of one of our cozy winter favorites. Garden Chicken Parmesan forgoes the heavy tomato sauce in favor of a fresh sautƈ of garden vegetables. The chicken is breaded simply with a flavorful herbed mix, and the cutlets cook quickly to stay moist. I used fresh mozzarella because I always keep that on hand when garden tomatoes are rolling in (Caprese, anyone?), but shredded mozzarella is perfectly fine. Garden Chicken Parmesan bridges the seasons and allows me to hang on to summer a bit longer as I enjoy the garden harvest.


Combine the fruits of summer and fall in Garden Chicken Parmesan.

Garden Chicken Parmesan

(adapted from Cooking Light)

1/4 cup flour

1 egg, beaten

2/3 cup dried bread crumbs

1/2 teaspoon dried basil

1/4 teaspoon dried oregano

1/2 teaspoon garlic powder

salt and pepper, to taste

olive oil

3/4 cup mozzarella, fresh or shredded

1 ear sweet corn, kernels cut from cob

1 medium zucchini, chopped

2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

1 1/2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved

1/4 cup fresh basil, chopped

Preheat broiler.

Place flour in a shallow bowl and season with salt and pepper. Beat egg in a second shallow bowl. Combine bread crumbs with dried basil, oregano and garlic powder in a third bowl. Dredge chicken in flour; dip in egg; and coat with bread crumbs.

Heat oil in a large skillet. Add the cutlets, two at a time, and cook approximately 1-2 minutes on each side, until browned. Place on a baking sheet that is coated with cooking spray. (I line with foil for easy cleanup.) Top cutlets with cheese and broil 1-2 minutes.

Meanwhile, add a bit more oil to skillet and sautƈ the corn. Add zucchini and cook until starting to become tender. Add garlic and tomatoes. Season with salt and pepper. Sautƈ until tomatoes are softened.

To serve, divide sautƈed vegetables over each chicken cutlet and top with basil. (Serves 4.)

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their three dogs ranch near Colome.

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Dunlap Melons

On Dunlap Melon Day, Sept. 12, 1926 in Vermillion, 22,000 melons were piled and sold by 5 p.m. An estimated crowd of 8,000 to 10,000 people attended.

We had five seasons in Clay County: spring, summer, watermelon, fall and winter.

My grandfather, Jim Dunlap, began shipping melons from Vermillion as early as 1912. There have been several other colorful watermelon growers in the area. Grandpa earned his crown as the watermelon king in the 1920s when he cultivated 145 acres on the Missouri River bottoms.

For royalty, he worked very hard. In those early years, he walked two miles to his fields. In later years he rose at the crack of dawn, got in a truck, picked up the field hands, and drove down to the fields.

He came back exhausted. After our evening meal he would walk out on the front sidewalk, with his head raised toward the clouds (if there were any) and pray for rain.

In 1930, it was very hot and dry. His daughter, Lenette, told me, “For six weeks it didn’t rain a drop and each day Dad would say that he didn’t see how the melons could live much longer without rain. He would go down in the morning and the vines were all fresh and perky and looked good. He would go back in the evening and they looked withered and dead.”

James and Abbie Dunlap in 1935.

Finally, rain came on August 18. “Dad had one of his best melon crops,” Lenette recalled. “The roots kept going down for water and everyone thought the melons were sweeter that year than they had ever been.”

Lenette and her sister, Mary, enjoyed their father’s Melon Days promotion and his watermelon feeds. “Of course, the free feed was to entice people to drive down to the grove to buy melons to take home,” Mary said. “We had planks for a big, long table, probably 30 feet long, and behind the table were three or four men with machetes and these men would reach back in the pile of melons, put a melon up on the table, and slash it into slices.”

Grandpa Dunlap also sold rail car loads of melons to area towns for big feeds. The Milwaukee Railroad once paid him $265 in damages for a shipment that was not packed in ice. When that happened and the weather got hot there would be watermelon juice all over the train.

Rail companies eventually learned to use an open stock car so the melons could get air, but there was still a downside: Opportunists carved out pieces of melon along the way.

On Melon Days in the Great Depression, our family sold surplus melons for $2 a carload. Drivers came with the seats removed from their cars so they could squeeze in more melons.

”They would pile melons into their cars until they were practically falling out and then they would try to drive up the hill to get back on the road,” Mary said. “Many of them did not have the power to do this so they would have to stop, unload some melons, put them on the ground, drive their car up to the road, run back and get the melons, stick them back in their car, and then they would go on their way.”

Anna Bruce, a Lesterville farm girl, came to board with the Dunlaps so she could attend classes at the university. She didn’t know our family grew melons.

On her first day in town, she had a date. She and her friend met some other young people and somebody suggested that they swipe a melon.

A neighbor alerted Grandpa by telephone. “Dad walked down (to the patch), and as he approached the youngsters he struck a match to see the face of the person nearest to him,” Mary said. “To his surprise, it was Anna Bruce.”

Rather than embarrass Anna, he told all the young people to meet him back at his house.”I don’t know what he said to them,” Mary said. “But he gave them a watermelon to eat.”

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the September/October 2000 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Food for Thought

I used to read a lot. Like, a book a week and often, a book a day. I don’t know what happened to that bookworm. Did life get in the way? Did owning a fixer upper home that always needs some attention stop my trips to the bookstore? Did 4 million satellite channels block my books? Did Netflix stifle my reading brain? Has social media sucked out my book-loving soul? I may have dropped the habit, but thankfully, the urge hadn’t died. I wasn’t an empty melon head; I truly missed reading.

Back in January, I decided it was time to engage my mind with more of the written word. While on vacation, I relaxed with book after book and spent many nights frantically reading through the last pages of a novel or memoir that held a grip on me. It felt good to once again activate that part of my brain that processes words into images and thoughts and emotions. Reading engaged my melon.

I set my intentions to read at least 13 books this year. I know that is far from my former pace, but to be realistic, life IS happening and Netflix does still have a hold on me. However, as of this week, I have far exceeded that measly goal and do feel more balanced for putting reading back as a priority. Stretching my melon does feel good.

My brain isn’t the only melon I have been working to improve this summer. I love a good cantaloupe, and here in central South Dakota, we are so fortunate to be spoiled with Forestburg melons. A good, ripe, sweet melon really needs nothing more than to be sliced, but occasionally, I like to step things up a little.

Adding lime vinaigrette, salty prosciutto and creamy, fresh mozzarella makes this Melon and Prosciutto Salad as well rounded as my book devouring brain. The combination of flavors and textures works in a way that is refreshing and satisfying. A good book and a serving of this melon salad on the patio would be a perfect afternoon for me.


A good book and a salad with prosciutto and Forestburg melon makes for a delicious late summer treat.

Melon and Prosciutto Salad

(adapted from Food.com)

3 tablespoons fresh lime juice

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon shallot, minced

1 tablespoon honey

1 pinch red pepper flakes

1/2 cantaloupe, cubed or portioned with a melon baller

7 ounces fresh mozzarella balls

2 tablespoons fresh basil, sliced into a chiffonade

2 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto

salt and pepper

Whisk together the lime juice, olive oil, shallot, honey and red pepper. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Toss the melon, mozzarella and basil with the vinaigrette. Cut the prosciutto into strips and roll into rosettes; tuck the prosciutto rolls into the bowl of salad. Season with freshly ground pepper. Serve immediately at room temperature for best flavor. (Serves 4)

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their three dogs ranch near Colome.