The Hill I Will Die On: Watermelon and Corn Are the Taste of Summer

The hill I will die on watermelon and corn is one I will happily plant a flag on from a lawn chair, with juice running down to my elbow: if you made me define summer with exactly one fruit and one vegetable, it would be watermelon and corn on the cob, full stop. Cold watermelon cut into wedges the size of a paper plate. Corn rolled in butter and salt and eaten straight off the cob like a typewriter. That is summer. That is the whole season in two foods, and you are not going to talk me off this hill.

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Let me set the scene for you. It is July in Florida, which means it is roughly the surface of the sun outside, and I have a crowd to feed. There is a watermelon the size of a toddler in my fridge, because that is the only size I buy. There is corn from the produce stand still in its husks on my counter. And at some point that evening, after the grill has done its work, the whole family of seven is going to be standing around the yard with a wedge of watermelon in one hand and a buttery cob in the other, nobody saying much because everybody is chewing — and that happy silence is the sound of summer doing its job.

And here is where it gets fun. I said one fruit and one vegetable, and somebody is already typing that watermelon is a fruit, so I cannot count it as the fruit and also sneak it past the vegetable rules. To which I say: actually, I can have it both ways, and I have an entire state government on my side. Watermelon has been Oklahoma’s official state vegetable since 2007 — because it belongs to the same cucumber-and-gourd family as squash and pumpkins, and the USDA files melons with the vegetables. So watermelon is a fruit by every backyard definition and a vegetable by act of an actual legislature. It is the only thing on my plate versatile enough to win both categories at once. Corn, meanwhile, does not need a lawyer. It just shows up golden and perfect and lets watermelon do the arguing.

So here is the hill I will die on watermelon and corn, one more time for the people in the back: watermelon and corn on the cob are not just summer foods, they are summer — the entire season boiled down to one sweet, juicy fruit and one buttery, golden vegetable. Everything else at the cookout — the burgers, the hot dogs, the potato salad — is a supporting character. These two are the main event. Tell me where you stand in the comments. Are you with me? Are you a tomatoes-are-summer person? A peaches loyalist? Do you think I am wildly underrating the humble cherry? I want to hear all of it — and I want to know how you eat your corn, because the typewriter-versus-spiral debate is a whole other hill for a whole other day.

Hill I Will Die On — Watermelon and Corn FAQ

But isn’t watermelon a fruit? How can it be your summer vegetable?

It is both, and that is exactly what I love about it. Botanically it is a fruit — it grows from the flower and carries the seeds — but it is in the same family as cucumbers and squash, and Oklahoma made it the official state vegetable back in 2007. So I get to count it whichever way the moment calls for. On my summer plate, it is the fruit. In a trivia argument, it is whatever wins.

What about tomatoes? Aren’t tomatoes the real taste of summer?

A good summer tomato is a glorious thing and I will not hear a word against it. But a tomato is a supporting player — it goes on the burger, into the salad, beside the mozzarella. The hill I will die on watermelon and corn is about the two foods I would happily eat completely on their own, standing over the sink, and a tomato — as much as I love it — is not one of them.

Why corn on the cob specifically? Why not zucchini or summer squash?

Because corn on the cob is an event. You do not just eat it, you commit to it — butter, salt, both hands, and a stack of napkins. Zucchini is wonderful and it shows up in half my summer dinners, but nobody has ever stood in a backyard grinning with zucchini dripping down their chin. Corn on the cob is summer you can hold.

Isn’t watermelon basically just sugar water? Is it even worth the hype?

It is about 92% water, which is the entire reason it is perfect on a hundred-degree day — it is basically a drink you can chew. It is low in calories, carries a little vitamin C and A, and it does the one job nothing else does as well: it cools you down from the inside out. The hype is fully earned.

Okay, what’s the actual best way to serve them at a cookout?

Watermelon: cut it cold into big wedges or cubes, and if you are feeling fancy, a little flaky salt or a squeeze of lime takes it somewhere special. Corn: grill it in the husk, then peel it back and roll it in butter and salt while it is screaming hot. Put both on the table next to whatever came off the grill, and watch them disappear before the main dish does. Every single time.

More Hills Worth Dying On — Strong Food Opinions from Stephanie

• The Hill I Will Die On: Foods Made for Each Other Belong Together — The five food marriages I refuse to let anyone break up, from PB and jelly to Oreos and milk.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Hot Dogs Only Want Ketchup and Mustard — Fire up the grill, but keep the toppings to mustard and ketchup. Jason and his Chicago dog can fight me.
• The Hill I Will Die On: A Bologna Sandwich Is the Best Beach Lunch — The summer lunch that goes in the cooler while the watermelon and corn wait at home for supper.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Milk Duds Are the Perfect Movie Theater Candy — The only candy that belongs in a tub of buttery popcorn. I will not be moved.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Matcha Anything — No Thank Ya — It tastes like chalky grass and I have Harvard on my side. Hard pass forever.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Dole Whip Is Magic Kingdom’s Best Snack — When the Florida heat is really on, the Original Classic Dole Whip is the best snack at the Magic Kingdom, and I’ll die on that hill happy too.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Candy Corn Is the Most Offensive Halloween Candy — I love corn, which is exactly why candy corn insults me. There is no actual corn in it.
• Every hill, sorted by the kind of argument — all my strong food opinions in one place, or browse them newest first.

The Hill I Will Die On — About Stephanie Longstreth

Stephanie Longstreth is the home cook, mom, and storyteller behind StephanieCooksForACrowd.com. She cooks for a family of seven in Florida — five kids, two cats, and one husband who appreciates a good meal. Four of her children came home through adoption, and family stories are woven into everything she makes and shares. Find her crowd-friendly recipes, weekly meal plans, and real family life on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and Pinterest @stephaniecooksforacrowd.