Fall has colored my days especially well this year, but they tell me that winter is on its way. Seattle maples held fast to their leaves until a couple of wind storms, and now a drenching rain blasts the color onto lawns awaiting my rake.
The last of the summer veggies on my window sill, like me, prefer to be inside. The winter Delicata squash I dragged home on a trip through Eastern Washington are a dinner vegetable staple twice a week. More pears and apples than cereal grace my breakfast bowl.
But as a child in Oakland, California, I best remember fall for the figs and persimmons. The last fruits harvested prefer a long, warm summer. So do I. I have that in common with figs and persimmons.
Even now, the small display of orange and purple at my local grocery store turns my head. But $7 for a basket of figs? And only Fuyu persimmons - the hard, crispy kind. Where are the Hachiyas I'm used to? The kind that feel like a sack of mush before you can eat them.
You buy them firm and get a lesson in patience. If you cut them open too early, the inside is astringent, lip-puckering. You only have to learn this lesson once.
While in Oakland a week ago, I found myself surrounded by Hachiya's at the Sunday morning market. I couldn't resist stuffing a few into my suitcase. Here they sit (next to the tomatoes), waiting to ripen.
But one at the Sunday market was fully ripe. I stood in the warmth of the sun, noticeably higher in the sky than here at home, and bit in. I bit into the translucent goop inside and slurped my way to the end of fall.
Those I brought home sit by the last of my tomatoes, aptly named "Persimmon."
The last of the summer veggies on my window sill, like me, prefer to be inside. The winter Delicata squash I dragged home on a trip through Eastern Washington are a dinner vegetable staple twice a week. More pears and apples than cereal grace my breakfast bowl.
But as a child in Oakland, California, I best remember fall for the figs and persimmons. The last fruits harvested prefer a long, warm summer. So do I. I have that in common with figs and persimmons.
Even now, the small display of orange and purple at my local grocery store turns my head. But $7 for a basket of figs? And only Fuyu persimmons - the hard, crispy kind. Where are the Hachiyas I'm used to? The kind that feel like a sack of mush before you can eat them.
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| California persimmons ripen next to the last of my summer tomatoes, a variety named "Persimmon." |
While in Oakland a week ago, I found myself surrounded by Hachiya's at the Sunday morning market. I couldn't resist stuffing a few into my suitcase. Here they sit (next to the tomatoes), waiting to ripen.
But one at the Sunday market was fully ripe. I stood in the warmth of the sun, noticeably higher in the sky than here at home, and bit in. I bit into the translucent goop inside and slurped my way to the end of fall.
Those I brought home sit by the last of my tomatoes, aptly named "Persimmon."
I too love persimmon - First discovered in Japan nearly 40 years ago.We mainly get the crunchy style here but I do like both.
ReplyDeleteWon't be long before we are saying "happy holidays". We are back to the hot wheather and not enough rain for the moment.
Keep up the great commentary & baking.
Best wishes Lyn
My family went to Uwajimaya this weekend and got two kinds of persimmons, one cheap and one much more expensive (the Hachiyas). They were both pretty good.
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