Persimmons

I love them. Everything about them. From their thicker-than-average skin that crunches and gives beneath your teeth as you bite into a succulent, honeyed, plush fruit, to their beckoning colour, right down to their acorn shape. I love the smooth jewel-like seeds, that drop out of the fruit, looking like a piece of woodwork, polished and perfected to an elegant sheen; I love its elegant hat, looking every bit the ‘couvre-chef’ that it should be.



Here they are called “Kaki”. I name that in my belief does them little justice. Persimmon on the other hand... just say it: Persimmon. It evokes perfect.... and mom and mmmm. What better name for a fruit that is so comforting?

I will be looking up recipes today to see if there are any worth doing, but as always with a perfect fruit or vegetable, I am afraid to ruin it. Why make jam with such a perfect specimen? Why alter something that in its natural state is just, perfect? And this is the difference between myself and so many other cooks and chefs. I love foods as they are, the most simple, the purest form. Sure, I will cook them, but in no way do I want to lose their distinctiveness... what makes that perfect aliment... itself. I love the sweet, grassy taste of zucchini, and I love the way it melts into a more buttery version of itself as it cooks, needing very little help and being delicate, wonderful, smooth. It’s a shame it loses so much colour as it cooks, because for me, the bright deep emerald of a zucchini is just part of its charm. Its mystery. Just like a beautiful woman enhances herself with makeup, it’s bright green exterior beckons, calls... and I will answer.


And with that I will leave you to ponder persimmon thoughts... and maybe ones of zucchini, with it’s crazy names and so many uses.... zucchini cake anyone?