We have two
persimmon trees that grow in the meadow by our kitchen garden. Over
the last few weeks we have watched the leaves turn warm autumn colors and the
fruits begin to ripen. The storm this week blew most of the leaves to the
ground, leaving the bright orange orbs fully exposed, a not so subtle reminder
that harvest time is here. A few weeks ago I made the mistake of
pulling one of the seemingly ripe persimmons off the tree and taking a big
bite- immediately my mouth was dry and my lips puckered as thought I had just taken a giant
mouth full of dry cotton. Our persimmons look deceivingly round,
like a Fuyu, but they must be the Hachiya variety. Unlike the
sweet- firm fuyu, Hachiya Persimmons are full of tannins, which give them their
mouth puckering astringency, similar to the skin of some grapes.
There
are several ways to enjoy Hachiya Persimmons without getting a mouth full
of cotton. The easiest way is to simply wait until you think they are
fully ripe, then wait another week, until the persimmon feels like a bag of gel
wrapped in a thin skin, with no discernible firmness. At this point you
can cut the persimmon in half and eat it like custard with a spoon.
Another method is to keep the persimmon frozen for a few days until the tannins
dissipate. You can also deprive the fruit of air by wrapping it
tightly in plastic or cryovacing it for a day. This makes the fruit
produce acetaldehyde which neutralizes the tannins.
You
might wonder why you should bother with Hachiya persimmons when the Fuyu
variety is so common and can simply be eaten like an apple. I love
persimmons, and Fuyu are delicious, but the Hachiya have a higher level of
sweetness and overall complexity of flavor. A few years ago I stumbled
upon my favorite way of working with the Hachiya Persimmon- called
Hoshigaki. This is the ancient Japanese tradition of air drying the
peeled persimmons and then gently massaging them to extract the sugars,
creating a powdery white coating that forms on the outside. During the fall
strands of drying persimmons can be seen hanging from the porches of
traditional Japanese homes. This ancient recipe was brought to
California by Japanese Farmers generations ago, but the final product is rarely commercially
available due to the time consuming process. When finished, the Hoshigaki
aren’t much to look at, shriveled and white, emaciated versions of the fresh
fruit. Inside the flesh is dense and sticky, with a concentrated
flavor from weeks of drying. The sugar bloom on the outside is delicate
and sweet, providing the perfect crust for the intense filling.
Today
we are hanging our first strands of persimmons from the kitchen
ceiling. Hopefully in a month or two I will have some pictures of the
final product!
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