There’s something bizarre about an orchard of trees without a leaf, their branches strung with the purple-frosted, deep-orange-coloured, tomato-shaped orbs of the persimmon fruit. They look a little like fairy lights someone has forgotten to turn on, a fairground in Autumn, fascinating, yet somehow desolate. In 1996, when I was in Greece and later in Cyprus the trees were prolific and their fruit abundant, so abundant, that even resourceful Greek and Cypriot cooks, not prone to wasting food of any kind, were letting them plop to the ground to burst their skins on impact and splatter the ground with their jam like insides.
The persimmon is a very ancient fruit originating from China and Japan, and is referred to in most cultures as Kaki, which is part of its botanical name. Whilst it is most prolific in temperate and sub-tropical climates, it grows well in relatively cold climates where there may be some frost or even snow for short periods. It is prolific in the Mediterranean regions and, as a consequence, is well suited to our climate. For much of the year, the tree looks like a leafless stick, but makes up for its starkness with its solid green fruit that grows and ripens into luscious orange coloured fruit, as the leaves fall.
Sweet or savoury, they are not to everyone’s liking, but we love them and don’t understand why more restaurants aren’t willing to serve a perfect ingredient unembellished. Best specialled, as maintaining perfectly ripe fruit is not always easy.
Like many other fruits, the persimmon has seen the introduction of a vast number of new varieties in the last thirty years. They are now categorised as astringent and non-astringent. Astringent, being the older varieties, which must be jelly-soft, translucent and bright orange to be eaten. Eaten under ripe, it leaves that nasty, furry slick in the mouth in the same way as does a banana cooked before being completely ripe.
The non-astringent and newer varieties do not require that jelliness of texture and will lose their furriness while the fruit is still slightly firm. It is a fruit so fragile when it is perfectly ripe, that it would be impossible to pick and sell it ripe, so, as with avocadoes, one needs to plan ahead.
My Greek friends, amused and dismayed at my lack of sophistication, proudly displayed their sparkling new chest freezers stuffed with plastic-wrapped persimmons, picked unripe and perfect, that are somehow mysteriously transformed into jelly ripeness with twenty-four hours in the freezer.
These girls have freezers for choice before washing machines. Surprisingly, most of the varieties will turn to jelly and lose their furriness with freezing. The determination to waste nothing makes most other cultures far more experimental with freezing than I have ever been, though sadly it seems to spell the demise of other, more ancient and energy-saving preservation techniques.
Their flesh is rich and sweet, and perfectly ripe, has something of the texture of apricot jam. Picked slightly under-ripe and glacéd in the normal manner of skewering them gently and bringing them to the boil twice a day in an equal water and sugar solution until the syrup is thick and the fruit transparent is a wonderful way of making sure you use all of what can be, a prolific crop.
They also dry extremely well, so those of you with dehydrators can certainly make good use of any offered fruit. Dried, they are extremely popular in China and can be found in many of our local Chinese Grocers in the season. Dried, they are an excellent replacement with cheese, for what has now become the ubiquitous quince paste.
Fat Goose Organics used to do lovely vacced slices of semi-dried persimmon. Sadly, they no longer come to our local farmers’ market, but it is another option you can try at home.
In Greece, with an abundance of the fruit to dispose of, my longing for really good ice cream, and the lack of either good cream or an ice cream machine led me to experiment.
I found that by taking perfectly jelly ripe persimmon pulp and, to every 500g of fruit, beating in 25g of powdered sugar until it was completely dissolved, then adding to that 20g of strained fresh lemon juice. Freezing it in shallow trays, tightly covered with foil, it made a more than passable sorbet, raked and excellent granita.
Churning turns it into something quite exquisite.
Inspiration can be found everywhere. In this instance, on Sam Smith’s menu at Otherness
House-made fresh fried Jersey Cheese, with persimmon, crisp sage, walnuts and radicchio, [pictured left].
This is blatant plagiarism, my highest form of praise and will always reference the inspiration as coming from Sam Smith. My mistake when making this dish was the size of the cheese portion. In the absence of the beautiful, fresh house-made jersey cheese at Otherness, I used Southcape Greek Style Sharp & Crumbly Feta, double-crumbed. My portions were 100g and too large. 50g portions would have been perfect. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, as I also think that Southcape Danish Style Feta, with its smoother creamier texture, would have been a better readily available choice for the cheese component.
The sweetness of the persimmon requires a little bitterness to bring it into the savoury profile and a tiny spike of Maldon salt flakes. With an abundance of variegated sorrel, the small leaves with their mild bitterness were perfect. The big leaves are chook food and too bitter to eat.
For the black garlic mayonnaise, three cloves of preserved garlic were added to a half batch of lemon mayonnaise. They were added to the blender with the eggs and puréed at that stage.
This simple marinated white onion is something that I like to have in the fridge. Just add 30g of caster sugar to 125g of white wine vinegar, salt and pepper and marinate finely sliced onion for twenty-four hours.
Although there is some physical difference in the unripe state, it’s difficult for the consumer to tell which variety of persimmon they are purchasing, so, one has to trust one’s fruiterer, as they will know which variety of fruit they are selling. Most of the trees in the Adelaide metropolitan area that survived the fifties and sixties are of the old variety, but regardless of which variety, astringent or non-astringent, they should not be picked before they have gone from green to deep orange colour. Unless you are using the freezer ripening technique, the change of colour to being ripe can still be some time away. Like most fruits, they are best ripened at room temperature before being refrigerated. Once ripe, they are best eaten within two or three days.
In Australia, persimmons always have an abundant glut season and the opportunity to purchase trays of fruit at very low prices, is usually around mid to late May.
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