the bitter and the sweet
a recipe for persimmon salsa
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Persimmons, or kaki, in their glowing red orange coats, are ubiquitous where I live. We joke that they are the zucchini of winter- everyone who has a tree is dropping off bags of them with neighbors, friends, and strangers to try to use them up. Persimmon trees are notoriously productive and can bear an incredible amount of fruit on even a modestly sized tree. They can simply be eaten out of hand but they are wonderful background players to bring sweetness and color to salads, baked goods, and on top of things like yogurt or porridge.
When I was growing up, both sets of my grandparents had persimmon trees in their yards- one with a Fuyu and one with a Hachiya. Much to their dissapointment, I mostly refused to eat either type except via the Hachiya persimmon cookies my grandmother ritually made every end of autumn. Small in size and not much to look at, but packed with persimmon, walnuts and warm spices, they are one of my strongest food memories tied to this time of year. The trees can be seen all over in yards this time of year, completely bare of leaves yet with some glowing red orange persimmons adorning the branches like ornaments on a Christmas tree. My mom calls the Hachiyas nature’s pudding cups- let them sit on the windowsill until they are as soft as a water balloon and have a translucent look to the skin that perhaps might make you think they are just on the wrong side of ripeness- then pull off the dried crumply cap, eating the gooey inside with a spoon. No knife or anything else needed, except perhaps to open it over a plate to catch any overflow. The fruit inside is essentially a jam and works well as jam would, on toast, especially with a thick layer of something creamy, like ricotta.
If you try to eat this type too soon, their astringent tannins will pucker and fur your mouth in a most horrible way, which perhaps is why they have a poor reputation amongst those not familiar with them.
Fuyu persimmons, on the other hand, can be thought of more like a pear- they can be eaten when crunchy, or when they have a little give like an avocado. Either way, they are sweet and ready to eat. This type is perfect in salads, where the salt and acid agree well with their sweetness. For the last several years, I’ve also been using Fuyu persimmons as a local substitute for mango in a fresh pico de gallo style salsa. Even with people who don’t particularly like persimmons- my older kids and husband- this salsa is well received. The strength and freshness of the other ingredients really means the persimmon plays a supporting role of sweetness with a gentle texture quite similar to that of mango. This salsa is lovely to top tacos, on top of a bowl of simple black beans, or scooped up with chips or crispbread. I hope it can bring some color and beauty to your winter table.