December Persimmons (#3)

 Hachiya persimmon tree on Shasta Road, Berkeley--Dec. 4th

                                                                                    Lingering Fruit
                                                                               On barren branches
                                                                                  Lonely Winter                                                              
                                                      

 

                                      

Arch Street persimmon tree in early November

 Tree in December with one half-eaten persimmon   

For one last persimmon treat, I reached for Fresh from the Farmer's Market by my friend Janet Fletcher. She suggests freezing persimmons and making a simple "ice cream" in the food processor. But smoothies are even more fun and much easier. She freezes two super-soft hachysas, then takes them out of the the freezer, softens slightly, removes the core, quarters them, and puts them in the blender with some brown sugar, or honey, buttermilk and vanilla. They make a fabulous thick smoothie, and with buttermilk, it's low-cal.  Now's the time to buy (or pick) persimmons and load up the freezer.

Arch Street Persimmons #2

                                                                      November fruit          
                                                                  Glowing amber-orange
                                                                       Fading slowly

Fortunately the leaves were still vivid when I visited the Arch Street tree for the second time, because most of the persimmons were gone... picked or fallen in the wind. Perhaps the lucky owner made my favorite persimmon bread. The recipe calls for ripe hachiyas (not the crisp fuyu variety), and appears in Beard on Bread by James Beard, dating from 1973.                                                                

                                                                                                                    

                                                               Persimmon Bread

In his introduction to this recipe James Beard comments,"Persimmons grow in many countries of the world, but often, as in France, they are left hanging on the trees. In this country we have learned to appreciate their superb deep-orange color, their shape, and their delicious flavor... In earlier times they were allowed to ripen on the trees until dead ripe before being eaten raw or used for puddings, cookies, and breads. Nowadays they show up in our markets in a firm state and must be left at room temperature for several days or a week to ripen until they are almost mushy."
                           3 1/2 cups flour                         1 cup melted butter
                           1 teaspoon salt                          4 eggs, lightly beaten
                           2 teaspoons baking soda           2/3 cup Cognac or Bourbon 
                          1 teaspoon nutmeg                    2 cups coarsely chopped walnuts & raisins (optional)
                          2 cups granulated sugar          2 cups persimmon puree from about 4 medium, very
                                                                            ripe persimons—not necessary to peel                                                                    

Sift all five dry ingredients into a mixing bowl. Then make a well in the center and add the melted butter, eggs, Bourbon (I always use Bourbon instead of Cognac, which gives the bread a je ne sais quoi magical quality), persimmon puree, and if you like, the nuts and raisins. Mix the dough until it is quite smooth. Butter two 9X5X3" loaf pans, or four smaller molds, and bake for 1 hour at 350 degrees. Cool the loaves in the pans and turn out on a rack.
Note: Wrap in foil after cooling. They will keep nicely from 1 to 2 weeks


                     
                      

Persimmons

                                                                     Thousand Lanterns
                                                                      on a single tree
                                                                      breathless moment

                                                                                                 Fragment of haiku by Fujieda Teruo
                                                                                                 photo taken on Arch Street after first rain