The melons are sweeter on Bogue Sound

For the 20-some years I've lived in Raleigh, I've heard people talk about Bogue Sound watermelons.

As loyal coastal fans tell it, these gems possess powers far beyond those of mortal melons -- sweeter than a lover's kiss, redder than a Wolfpack fan's heart, cooler on a hot day than an Alaska-sized ice floe.

A friend who fled the Capital City for life on the coast puts watermelon at the top of her personal "holy trinity" of food. (The other two members are fresh corn and just-baked bread. It's hard to argue with her choices.)

Well, it took me awhile, but I set out to taste for myself and try to find out what makes watermelons from this area near Morehead City different.

Interestingly, no one seems to know the exact answer. But a group of growers is trying to capitalize on the difference and make Bogue Sound watermelons as recognizable and sought-after as Vidalia onions.

And those watermelons could help save some farms.

Ray Harris, director of the Carteret County Cooperative Extension Service in Morehead City, says he gets calls every year from fans hooked on the fruit, asking for "Bogue Sound watermelon seeds" to plant.

There's no such thing.

"It's not a variety," Harris says. "They grow the same varieties everybody else does."

The secret is in where they're grown. It might be the sandy soil, a microclimate or the magic of breezes off the sound. If anyone knows, they sure aren't telling.

But it appears that the watermelons indeed may be sweeter, as fans have always believed.

Harris did a Brix measurement of the melons. Brix is typically used in winemaking to determine the amount of sugar in grapes. The higher the number, the more sugar present. He came up with a measurement of 9.1 to 9.2 for Bogue Sound watermelons, compared to about 7 for ones he bought at a supermarket.

Of course, there are many variables that affect the quality of fruit at any particular time, but the numbers seem to back up the tales of the watermelons' sweetness.

The watermelons have a long history.

About 1900, fleets would catch small fish called menhaden and carry them to processing plants around Beaufort, where they were made into feeds and fertilizers. Rather than head home empty after unloading their catch, captains would pack their ships with watermelons from the area and carry them to Virginia and other points north. They were sold as Bogue Sound watermelons.

A 1929 newspaper article describes 22 rail cars of watermelons being shipped from Morehead City to New York.

Today, if you drive N.C. 24 from Swansboro toward Morehead City during watermelon season, which peaks in mid-July and runs through August, you'll see many roadside stands touting Bogue Sound watermelons.

But you can't be positive that you're buying a genuine Bogue Sound melon, says Billy Guthrie.

Guthrie, whose family has been farming in the area for a century, came up with an idea along with Harris that might give consumers a guarantee and help farmers.

Inspired by the success of the Vidalia onion in Georgia, the Bogue Sound Watermelon Growers Association formed in 2005. To join, farmers must grow the melons in a specified area that drains directly or indirectly into the sound, and they must pay a membership fee of $800. There are 20 members of the group, of which Guthrie is the president.

The state granted a trademark for the melons in 2006. Some of the money for marketing came from a Golden LEAF grant, designed to help farmers develop lucrative alternative crops to tobacco. The association developed a logo that shows a watermelon in sunglasses chilling out on a lounge chair. The logo is on display bins and on stickers that are placed on each of the association's watermelons.

Members bring watermelons to a central shipping location, where the fruit is inspected to ensure consistent quality and size, Guthrie says.

"The stores don't want watermelons that are too big," he says.

This year, the number of watermelons shipped more than doubled from 2006. They went to supermarkets across the nation, including Harris Teeter, Lowes Foods and Wal-Mart, according to Bobby Creel, director of business development for L&M Companies, which marketed the association's melons.

"We had people in the agricultural political community in Washington calling us wanting to know where to buy these melons," Creel says. "I sent them the list of stores in the D.C. area."

Creel says some supermarkets have already indicated interest in the watermelons for next season.

The last load of this season was shipped a couple of weeks ago. So if you really want one, you may have to head for the coast. (Yeah, a dirty job.)

Watermelon is the fun fruit of summer. It provides the fuel for seed-spitting fights, a cool-down on a sizzling day and a vehicle for a little mischief, if you have a bottle of vodka and a frisky mind.

But watermelons aren't just good times to Guthrie and other farmers. They're part of the struggle to find ways to help farmers make enough money to keep on farming and to save their land from developers' bulldozers.

And if a mere onion can become a household word, imagine what a member of the "holy trinity" could accomplish.

Oh, about that Bogue Sound watermelon that rolled home with me: It sure was mighty sweet.