CONSIDER THE PERSIMMON
Write me down as one who loved poetry and persimmons. ~Masaoka Tsunenori, aka Shiki (1867 – 1902)
As I was walking to the subway, I was overjoyed to see the Croatian fruit and vegetable vendor positioned at his usual spot about 20 yards from the entrance. This was significant because I hadn’t seen him for about a month and had begun to wonder if he would return. As we chatted, he handed me a persimmon. I demurred, remembering a childhood memory of eating a persimmon plucked from the backyard tree. Remembered because I can recall to this day the sourness of the unripened fruit, a feeling of such profound sourness that clung to my gums and tongue for the rest of the day. A tall glass of water did nothing to relieve the taste equivalent of a skunk’s smell. It seemed to make it worse.
But persimmons are for sale all over Chinatown; huge mounds of gleaming, slick-skinned orbs. They look a little like orange tomatoes, with a flat stem base. I always wondered what they were but couldn’t ask because the street vendors in Chinatown never like to admit that they speak English. Not even to identify there goods for sale. Except for the terse, “No pick!” they keep up their cover.
The fruit and vegetable vendor in my neighborhood, pressed it to my hand saying gently, “Try it.” How could I refuse?
I look at this persimmon knowing that, sooner or later, I have to try it. Today’s the day. First I run a serrated knife around the tightly placed stem, and timidly touch it to my tongue. Okay, it doesn’t recall the sourness of my youth, so now I’m interested. The fruit vendor says you can eat it like an apple, but the skin seems tough. I slice it into eight polar wedges. The fruit inside is a little darker than the skin, the color of pumpkin puree. I put a wedge into my mouth and taste the smooth fruit; sweet but only about as much sweetness as a banana, and I can detect a subtle undercurrent of the remembered sourness. The skin is, in fact, much too tough to eat, but it releases from the fruit easily enough as I suck the flesh from it. It’s good. One more addition to the eating arsenal.  The trick is in getting one that wasn’t picked before it even approached ripeness. It will stay in the fruit bowl a long while before it is ready to eat. And I’m not at all inclined to take the chance of eating one before its time.
Persimmon is a unique winter fruit salad candidate; always good morning, noon or night, even a midnight snack. One can never have too many flowers or too many fruits.  Orange you glad you tried a persimmon?
PREPARATIONS Listed on Left Sidebar
