Stalking the American Persimmon

In the headlong stampede to Thanksgiving, home cooks and the publications that love them are ecstatic over the usual autumnal suspects: sweet potatoes, Brussels sprouts, lacinato kale, and the illustrious members of the winter squash family. But what about the persimmon, which is also in season?

The fruit certainly has its fair share of admirers, though it’s never enjoyed the mass popularity of the pear or apple. No one’s ever staged hayrides and pumpkin-carving contests around a persimmon orchard, much less tried to cover them with caramel and impale them on popsicle sticks.

That may be because persimmons aren’t readily available in some parts of the country. But it’s also, I think, because many of us don’t know what the hell to do with them.

Anyone who does know persimmons probably knows the most widely cultivated species of the Diospyros genus, the Hachiyas and the Fuyus, cultivars of the Asian persimmon. Both are the color of cooked butternut squash, but that’s more or less where the similarity ends. The Fuyu, which looks like an orange tomato, can be eaten at any stage of ripeness, like an apple. But the Hachiya, which resembles an onion dome turned upside down, needs to be soft, almost to the point of rotting, before you even think about tucking in.

And then there’s the Diospyros virginiana, or American persimmon, or, simply, simmon. Though it grows widely throughout Southern and Mid-Atlantic states, it shows up as far west as Texas. Used for centuries (it found favor with Native Americans and European settlers alike) the fruit, says Hank Shaw of the blog Hunter Angler Gardener Cook, is nothing like the Fuyu or Hachiya. Like the latter, though, it’s “tannic and pretty much inedible when firm,” Shaw notes.

Round or oval-shaped, American persimmons are best ripened on the tree and have to be mashed and used in baked goods—one of their most celebrated iterations is persimmon pudding, a classic dessert with as many fans as there are recipes.

The DIY-inclined can forage for wild persimmons, but you can buy larger, cultivated American persimmons all over the place, says Shaw. However you decide to get them, do it soon: Like fall itself, persimmon season is fleeting.

Image source: Flickr member janet.powell under Creative Commons

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  • This brings back memories. When my grandfather retired, he made sure he was on a lake so he could fish whenever he liked. In the fall, he'd guide his boat under persimmon trees and shake the fruit into the bottom of the boat. Back home my grandmother would mash the persimmons to get rid of seeds and peel, and make spicy, sweet persimmon bread. I've longed to do the same, but alas no persimmon...+READ

    This brings back memories. When my grandfather retired, he made sure he was on a lake so he could fish whenever he liked. In the fall, he'd guide his boat under persimmon trees and shake the fruit into the bottom of the boat. Back home my grandmother would mash the persimmons to get rid of seeds and peel, and make spicy, sweet persimmon bread. I've longed to do the same, but alas no persimmon trees nearby.-COLLAPSE

  • I grew up in Indiana, where the persimmon trees yielded their lovely fruit in the cow pastures of my family's farm. As a little girl, my mother was required to gather the ripe, fallen "simmons" while carefully avoiding the numerous cow patties. I remember helping squish the washed and sorted fruit through a Chinese Hat colander, and mixing the resulting pulp into the most amazing baked pudding I...+READ

    I grew up in Indiana, where the persimmon trees yielded their lovely fruit in the cow pastures of my family's farm. As a little girl, my mother was required to gather the ripe, fallen "simmons" while carefully avoiding the numerous cow patties. I remember helping squish the washed and sorted fruit through a Chinese Hat colander, and mixing the resulting pulp into the most amazing baked pudding I have ever tasted. Plum or figgy or any other English style puddings do not hold a candle to this delight.

    I moved to the Pacific Northwest many years ago, and have only been able to find Asian persimmons to cook with around the holidays. While they have their own delights, they do not quite bring that sweet-tart tingle to my tongue that the American persimmons do. Although when I made a pudding from ripe Fuyus for my first Thanksgiving with my in-laws, my husband nearly cried with gustatory pleasure. I suppose as with most foods, it is a matter of personal taste, but nearly everyone who has tried my persimmon pudding goes away with smiles.-COLLAPSE

  • My parents have an old persimmon tree, inherited from my grandpa. None of us are fans. Shanagain's description is pretty accurate.

  • We bought our current home 4 years ago. The persimmon tree in our backyard was beautifully heavy with gorgeous pink-orange tomato shaped fruit. I asked the elderly owner "oh, what do you do with them?" to which he replied, extraordinarily dryly, "You eat them." HA! Old bugger was full of it. They may look like a Fuyu, but one taste - either ripe, overripe or frozen-on-the-tree before harvest...+READ

    We bought our current home 4 years ago. The persimmon tree in our backyard was beautifully heavy with gorgeous pink-orange tomato shaped fruit. I asked the elderly owner "oh, what do you do with them?" to which he replied, extraordinarily dryly, "You eat them." HA! Old bugger was full of it. They may look like a Fuyu, but one taste - either ripe, overripe or frozen-on-the-tree before harvest (I've tried, for years to crack the code) reveals a horribly tannic taste reminiscent of tea brewed with ear wax. So, apparently our gorgeous prolific fruiter is.. American. Bah.-COLLAPSE

  • So many Americans don't know what a persimmon is. I've had them on my desk at work and people ask 'is that a tomato?' Yeah.