Persimmons: Taking the Road Not Taken

by Judy Sobeloff, from the November 2004 newsletter

Possum up persimmon tree
Raccoon on the ground
Raccoon says to Possum,
“Won't you shake them ‘simmons down.”
— Pete Seeger, “Raccoon’s Got a Bushy Tail"”

Think about it, the next time you’re offered the choice between biting into a persimmon or an apple, what kind of life do you want? Surely I’m oversimplifying here—apples habitual, persimmons inexplicable—not to mention the unusual apple-tasting experiences of Snow White, of Eve, but persimmons are only around for a few short months in the Fall. If you choose the apple, you may miss your chance to step out on the limb of the persimmon tree and taste diaspyros, “food of the gods.”

While hundreds of varieties of persimmons exist, only two are available commercially, both carried by the Co-op: the Hachiya, which is acorn-shaped and astringent until “soft ripe,” and the Fuyu, which is tomato-shaped and non-astringent. Both are a dark red-orange, worthy of attention for their beauty alone.

One can go a long time in these parts without ever encountering a persimmon, so here’s what to remember if you do: astringency bad, ripeness good. As cookbook author Mark Bittman puts it, “There’s no such thing as an overripe persimmon.” In the words of Captain John Smith: “If it is not ripe it will draw a man’s mouth awrie [sic] with much torment.”

“It’s all in the ripening, which can take up to a month,” writes Bittman. Softening to remove astringency can be hastened by freezing and then thawing, however, and also by drying in an oven (see www.sdfarmbureau.org for instructions). “When they have a translucent, shiny glow, they will be juicy and sweet, with an interior like firm jelly,” says Bittman. “Simply lop off the top and eat the insides with a spoon or quite messily, out of hand.”

In his poem “Persimmons,” Li-Young Lee writes, “How to choose persimmons: This is precision. Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted. Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one will be fragrant. How to eat: put the knife away, lay down newspaper. Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat. Chew the skin, suck it, and swallow. Now, eat the meat of the fruit, so sweet, all of it, to the heart.”

Simple top-lopping or tender skin-peeling, the choice is yours. I’m all for eating foods messily out of hand, so I quickly downed a few, disregarding the possibility that “in some areas [persimmons are] said to have the power of changing the sex of a girl who eats copiously of the fruit.” I was intrigued by the lore, however, that the insides of the seeds are purportedly shaped like pieces of silverware, each piece of which (knife, fork, or spoon) is said to predict differing severity of cold and amount of snow for the coming winter (www.davewilson.com). Unfortunately, the interpretations I read were inconsistent, and I ate the persimmons so quickly, seeds and all, I didn’t manage to make any forecasts.

Regardless, my family and I enjoyed persimmons in many ways. Plain, I found them deliciously sweet, slightly gingery with a subtly bitter aftertaste. We all liked persimmon bread, more like a moist persimmon cake, which prompted Fred to laugh maniacally and say, “It doesn’t get better than that.” Whether or not to eat persimmon peels is a personal decision, so in making the bread I peeled half.

The Autumn Fruit salad was tasty, as well, but Fred thought the apples, grapes, and pomegranates overpowered the persimmons. I agreed: having expected fireworks from this compilation of fabulous fruits, I found the whole to be less than the expected sum of its parts.

We all enjoyed frozen persimmons, especially when the solid orange rocks thawed enough for us to dig in. Lured by the description of frozen persimmon as “sorbet,” Jonna, almost three, said, “It hurts my fingers but it’s yummy! I never had this kind of ice cream before!”

We also enjoyed serving suggestions from sdfarmbureau.org: sliced persimmon spread with lime juice, salt, and chili powder; sliced persimmon with cheese; and sliced persimmon with peanut butter. Wow! These were all great, the odder the better. So go ahead and taste the persimmon, but make sure it’s ripe first.

Persimmon Bread (adapted from http://members.aol.com/BlaneKY/persimm.htm#fourteen)

1 cup persimmon pulp
1/2 cup chopped persimmon
1/2 cup butter
1 cup sugar
2 beaten eggs
1 & 3/4 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup nuts (optional)

Mix together butter, sugar, and eggs. Stir baking soda into the persimmon pulp and add to the butter mix. Mix together remaining dry ingredients. Fold dry ingredients into the persimmon-butter mix. Stir in chopped persimmon and optional nuts. Pour into buttered 8x11-inch pan and bake for 45 minutes at 325 degrees, or until toothpick inserted in middle of loaf comes out clean.

Autumn Salad (adapted from www.sdfarmbureau.org/fuyu/recipes.html)

Mix cubed fresh persimmon with grapes, pomegranate seeds, cubed apple, and sliced green kiwi.

Judy Sobeloff is hoping for the best with the upcoming November election.

Copyright: Copyright on articles, recipes and images are jointly held by the Moscow Food Co-op and the respective contributors, except were otherwise noted.

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