Long Wharf Properties Manager Brian Fagan was in the theater’s kitchen, turning watermelon into steak.
“The actors actually like it,” he said. “They keep talking about how good it is.”
But why turn watermelon into steak at all?
It’s just another small piece of the puzzle of putting a theater production together — in this case, the current run of Boo Killebrew’s Miller, Mississippi, now at Long Wharf until Feb. 3 — balancing the demands of the script with the constraints of the budget with the desire to make sure the actors have what they need to put on the best performance they can.
The script of Miller, Mississippi called for a steak dinner for four, and an inedible steak prop wouldn’t cut it. The actors needed to be able to eat it. It even had to look right, as one character asks another if the meat is still too red.
But the theater’s budget made four steaks a night pretty prohibitive. Added to that were the sanitary concerns of having meat onstage.
Moreover, one of the actors doesn’t eat red meat.
Fagan and the props department started doing some online research. What could you use to make something that looked like rare steak but wasn’t, and was still edible?
It turned out people had experimented with using watermelon, which may seem fragile at first glance but “actually has a lot of structure,” Fagan said. There are restaurants out there smoking and roasting watermelon as if it were ham, or preparing it as a substitute for tuna tartare.
Fagan got to work, and produced a recipe for watermelon that looks and acts like steak.
Brian Slattery Photos
Turning melon into flesh, it turns out, is a day-long process. First, Fagan slices the watermelon and cuts it into steak-shaped pieces. Then he marinates the watermelon in balsamic vinegar and tamari (another actor is glucose intolerant) in the refrigerator for 24 hours.
He then removes the watermelon from the marinade and lets it dry for two hours. “If you don’t let them dry out, you don’t get the same consistency,” Fagan said.
The watermelon is then rolled in corn starch and put in the oven to bake for 45 minutes.
When Fagan takes it out of the oven, he then uses a balsamic glaze to complete the illusion (see video above). He had started off making the glaze by actually reducing the marinade, but found that it was too time-consuming, especially when he could just buy balsamic glaze, which he did. The result is a “steak” that has the browned outside, complete with darkened gristly crust, and a soft red interior. It cuts like a steak. It even stays on the fork like a steak.
How does it taste? I’m happy to report that the taste is sweet, salty and acidic — about what you might expect from watermelon soaked in soy sauce and vinegar. Fagan reported that some of the Long Wharf crew are thinking of making it for themselves at home, and while others of us might not go that far, it’s a fine snack, especially for actors on stage night after night.
The watermelon steak is just part of the food prep that Miller, Mississippi requires, Fagan said. It’s served with green beans and mashed potatoes. Later in the play, a scene requires a Jell‑O salad and a “not-so-pleasant casserole,” Fagan said, to demonstrate the way a character is trying, with only moderate success, to cook food for herself and others. “The intent is to show that she’s trying to make this meal, but it doesn’t look appetizing.”
Jell‑O salad usually has dairy in it, but another of the actors has a dairy allergy. “Ours is sugar-free lime Jell‑O with white food coloring,” Fagan said. “Everything we do here, we do in house.” That goes not only for the food, but for all the props, from the television that the props department built from parts and designed to be moved around the stage easily, to the dining room table that can be divided into two halves to take offstage gracefully when necessary.
Getting the details right isn’t just about being faithful to the script either, Fagan pointed out. He sees his work as supporting the actors. “It’s all about building a relationship from the get-go,” he said, “building trust, building respect.” For the actors, knowing that the fake steaks will be the same every night, served with mashed potatoes and greens, is part of what makes it possible to deliver a seamless performance. For Fagan — now in his second season as props manager, but with two decades of experience under his belt — one of the pleasures of the job lies in always having new problems to solve.
“Every show is unique,” he said.
Though next time he needs to make a fake steak, he’ll know what to do, he said, as he put the finishing glazing touches on the baked watermelon. This reporter mentioned that it was the glazing that finally made the illusion click.
Fagan agreed. “But it wouldn’t have worked without the other steps,” he added. “Just like the theater.”
Miller, Mississippi runs at Long Wharf Theatre, 222 Sargent Dr., until Feb. 3. Visit the theater’s website for tickets and more information.
