That consumer resistance shows up in retail displays. On July 25, during honeydew season, I couldn’t find a single vendor at the Union Square Farmers’ Market selling the melon. (Two had cantaloupes.) Across 14th Street, Whole Foods devoted an entire end-cap to over 200 cantaloupes. A couple of dozen honeydews were shunted to the side, offered at a lower price per pound.

While cantaloupes are more popular than honeydews, both kinds suffer brand damage from the prevalence of low-quality, out-of-season melon. FreshDirect’s produce merchant, Eric Stone, said the grocer sells three cantaloupes for every honeydew, but it sells even more in novel melon varieties like the “sugar kiss,” a melon that looks suspiciously like a cantaloupe but is sweeter. According to Mr. Stone, the novel melons sell well even to customers who previously did not buy melons at all. That makes sense, since the grocer sells them only in season, meaning buyers can expect consistent quality in a way they can’t with either cantaloupe or honeydew.

And yet, if you buy a mixed cut fruit plate from FreshDirect, you won’t get the kiss melons. You’ll get honeydew and cantaloupe, since on a cut fruit plate, the main purpose of melon is to look good next to the pineapple. (Amanda Vogel, a spokeswoman for FreshDirect, says the grocer is “working to incorporate the kiss melons” in fruit plates.)

Call it the bifurcated market for melon: one where people buy fruit to eat themselves, and honeydew gets knocked for its low-flavor reputation; another where people buy fruit to serve to others, where honeydew can survive year-round on its vibrant color alone. The question is, how large can the second market be?

Lukus Hasenstab, co-owner of Penelope, a restaurant in Murray Hill that does a brisk brunch business, thinks it’s shrinking. “I think we’ve gotten more food-mindful in the last decade, at least in New York,” he said. People are less willing to stand for flavorless melon than they used to be. He puts honeydew in his fruit bowl only when his produce distributor sends him a case for free.

Mr. Hasenstab is onto something, and not just in New York: Since 2000, Americans’ consumption of both cantaloupe and honeydew has fallen by a third, even as cantaloupe has maintained its five-to-one lead. Meanwhile, consistently sweet watermelon has held steady and is now twice as popular as cantaloupe. Flavor, it seems, is winning out over color.

If the trend continues, that should be a win for the honeydew lovers and the honeydew haters alike. If hotels stop serving the melon regardless of quality, honeydew should in time shed its reputation for flavorlessness, making consumers more willing to give melon a shot in the summer, when it actually tastes good.

A reduction in melon quantity may mean an improvement in melon quality.