Persimmon Salad
Persimmons are a talisman of my childhood. Not a pleasant memory, mind you--but a stern warning. My grandfather had an American persimmon tree. Along the eastern seaboard, indigenous persimmons can be scraggly, a bush on steroids. But at his home in the sandy soil of central Oklahoma, the trees can morph into monsters, rough-barked, sometimes over a hundred feet tall.
And bear a wicked fruit that's full of alum, astringent, inedible--until the first hard freeze. Then that orange globe turns mushy brown, even black-specked. The alum evaporates, the sweetest sugars bloom, and the whole thing is like a soft, gooey bit of fragrant jelly, held together by a collapsing skin. One bite before the freeze--a frost does not count--and there won't be a drop of moisture left in your mouth for hours. But one bite in your winter woollies and you could swear you've fallen into a world where trees bear candy.
Despite the stern warning, I took the famed bite. I was about eight or so. And I learned the lesson. That I never wanted to eat another persimmon.
Until I found that American persimmons weren't the only game in town. These days, we can find Japanese persimmons, sometimes sold under the name Fuyu (just one of the varietals). They're luscious: Easter-egg orange, candy-sweet--and in our markets right now. They need no freeze to turn them ridiculously fragrant and irresistible. You might not find them at a run-of-the-mill supermarket but more likely at a high-end one--or better yet, an Asian grocer.
We live in a world without seasons. But not when it comes to Japanese persimmons. They come and go. And they're in right now. Don't hesitate. It takes almost no effort to make them into this fine winter salad. Seasonal eating at its best.
First off, slice off the top knot, then cut the persimmons into moderately thin slices. You'll need a very sharp knife--they're like a soft tomato.
Then take the seeds out of a pomegranate, another winter fruit. Cut it into wedges and scrape the seeds out with your fingers. Sour, crunchy, a true delight in mid-winter.
Finally, cut a few kumquats into very thin rounds. Again, another seasonal fruit. Isn't it wonderful that some things escape the mass-market non-seasonality? Kumquats are in right now. Don't delay.
Put a few greens on a plate. Line the persimmon slices on top. Sprinkle the salad with the pomegranate seeds and kumquat slices. Add a few--a very few--paper-thin rings of sliced red onion, as well as some crunchy salt and several grinds of fresh black pepper. Finally, drizzle it with olive oil and a little syrupy balsamic vinegar.
Oh, and bread. Crunchy. It has to fall onto the plate. By accident, of course. To sop up the fine sour/sweet/salty juice that will be left after the salad is gone.
persimmon, pomegranate, salad, vegan, vegetarian
Reader Comments (8)
I had the same experience when I first moved to the US, 5 years ago. I have not dared to chance a repeat, but your salad looks excellent! Perhaps it's time to give it a shot.
Unrelated, but equally disturbing: a similar first-taste episode banned New England Clam Chowder from the list of Things I Can Live With. If it's not too much trouble, could you maybe suggest a recipe? I can't decide which to trust.
I've been following your blog for a while, and there's just something about you that makes me want to try all your recipes. I've made your caramels last week and they were amazing. Thanks for sharing!
Dana:
Listen, I hear your pain about New England chowder. Wallpaper paste, at best. I can't stand the stuff. Always tastes like raw flour--and too much cream. Anyway, I don't mean to sound too ridiculously self-promotional here, but try the New England chowder technique in our book COOKING KNOW-HOW. Bruce and I worked a long time on that one to get it right. It's not a traditional recipe, rather the technique of the dish--so you can customize it to your own taste.
Just went out to your blog. I love it. Congratulations on such good work!
Mark
Mark, thanks for the prompt response and for your visit. I'm brand new to this and your appreciation means more than words can convey.
Got Cooking Know How, can't wait for it to get here. Also requested that it be made available for kindle, after getting The Cook Book on it. This thing has become an extra limb to me, and I love the fact that I can have all my cookbooks in my pocket.
I'll try the chowder asap because my husband likes it. The things we do for love! :)
Thanks again, Dana.
Now I'm curious what an American persimmon looks like? I love the Japanese version, but it's weird because I love the fuyu for its color and shape but hate the jelly consistency, so I like the hachiya for its crunch, but it's not the most pretty. Someone needs to come up with a hybrid.
Ben: As far as I know, the cultivars fuyu and hachiya are both varietals of the Japanese (or sometimes "Asian") persimmon family (Diospyros kaki). The American persimmon (Diospyros virginiana) is a different shoot off that botanical tree, as it were. The ones in Oklahoma were hard and bright orange when unripe; when ripe, they were brown, brackish, very soft, even black in places. They were so drippy, they hung off their stems like wet paper bags. You had to pick them carefully or they'd just ooze apart. Talk about jelly.
M.
Does anyone have the recipe for chicken salad with? I'm looking for the recipe for chicken salad that has peas and potatoes...i had this at a baby shower on some tostadas and it was really good. does anyone have this recipe. thanx
Salad: I think it'd be pretty easy to make a salad with persimmons, boiled small potatoes, thinly sliced celery, peas, and the skinned, deboned meat off a rotisserie chicken from the supermarket. Add some mayo, a dollop of mustard, and a splash of lemon juice, as well as some chopped herbs like tarragon and thyme. Pretty nice. Oh, and throw in a handful of chopped walnuts or pecans, just for good measure.
I want to eat right now!It looks great.