I haven't yet sunk my teeth into one of these crunchy delights, but I will soon. The thing is, I don't exactly love persimmons (or kaki, their Japanese name). If anything, I'm indifferent. Their flavor is very subtle, and reminds me of something almost as bland as sugarwater: pleasant enough, but nothing that makes me crave them as I do some other fruits and foods. They're always far too beautiful to pass up buying a few, though, and I'm determined to try to enjoy them once again and maybe discover some hidden ambrosia quality that has thus far eluded me.
Tell them
I was a persimmon eater
who liked haiku
~Masaoka Shiki, 1897
5 comments:
Growing up in the Midwest, persimmons were always much more bitter as I recall. Something about them always makes me think about autumn in the California Central Coast. I have a trustee in Morro Bay who this week as usual loaded me up with them and some of his Chilean melons as I headed south in my rented Jeep Liberty. (Again, apologies for not having time to meet up with you in SB.)
Li-Young Lee's poem "Persimmons" makes me wonder if we Occidentals don't make the mistake of eating them before they are fully ripe.
You're supposed to eat them cut up and tossed with rocket and toasted hazelnuts, you fool!
Ooooo....so purty.... :-)
Word of wisdom from M. Cho... Beware the Persimmon diet.
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