One night I went to bed thinking about the overripe persimmon sitting on our countertop.
Slightly drooped, she sat, patiently waiting to join the inevitable resting place for produce whose purposes were never fulfilled - a grocery bag hanging from a cupboard knob.
What to do with this once supple, now sad and slightly shriveled, erstwhile beauty? Surely her soul remained as sweet as in her youth, honey-sweet nectar and want of purpose near bursting from her skin.
She cried to me in my dreams for une raison d'être.
I awoke with a start, and uttered two breathless words: 'persimmon bread.'
[end mawkish over-dramatization]
So, I got up, got the idea to sub in persimmons for bananas (possibly making necessary adjustments for water content) in a banana bread recipe, googled 'best banana bread recipe,' and decided on this one. Then got to work.
But just one, sad, decrepit little persimmon was not going to do. She needed some younger friends to spruce up her image, and help her recall her vitality and worth - Lady Gagas to her Madonna, if you will. (I won't. But I did. Cringe. Too late, can't go back now.)
Luckily the deli around the corner had some on hand, and I picked up these beauts.
Slightly drooped, she sat, patiently waiting to join the inevitable resting place for produce whose purposes were never fulfilled - a grocery bag hanging from a cupboard knob.
What to do with this once supple, now sad and slightly shriveled, erstwhile beauty? Surely her soul remained as sweet as in her youth, honey-sweet nectar and want of purpose near bursting from her skin.
She cried to me in my dreams for une raison d'être.
I awoke with a start, and uttered two breathless words: 'persimmon bread.'
[end mawkish over-dramatization]
So, I got up, got the idea to sub in persimmons for bananas (possibly making necessary adjustments for water content) in a banana bread recipe, googled 'best banana bread recipe,' and decided on this one. Then got to work.
But just one, sad, decrepit little persimmon was not going to do. She needed some younger friends to spruce up her image, and help her recall her vitality and worth - Lady Gagas to her Madonna, if you will. (I won't. But I did. Cringe. Too late, can't go back now.)
Luckily the deli around the corner had some on hand, and I picked up these beauts.
Sexy 'simmons
Some whipping, mashing, improvising, and added spices (fresh nutmeg, salt) later...and there it was. Purpose fulfilled.
Reincarnated: Spicy, warm, & gooey
Pretty good for a first try. It was dense and moist (I might have overworked the dough/batter just a touch), with delightfully smushy/chewy bits of persimmon flesh dispersed throughout.
I plan to try again, next time with even more spice (cinnamon? Cardamom?), and maybe a touch of ginger.
M wasn't such a fan to start - his initial remarks were things like, "It's not bad, but you know the reason people make things like banana bread is because the sum is better than the parts. Banana bread is better than a banana, zucchini bread is better than a zucchini..." Right, thanks. (To be fair, he really, really loves persimmons.) But after the bread cooled a bit, and had time to enrich and integrate its flavors, he was won over, too.
just when i thought it was safe to stop checking your cobweb-ridden blog, you post again. and you're still funny. ass.
ReplyDeletethis looks seriously delicious. i'm going to suggest it to my less culinary challenged friends.
Yeah, well, I went back to check on this old thing, reminiscing about the (20 or so) days when I kept a food blog, and noticed that someone (other than you, my most loyal and dearest and favoritest reader) had actually read it and commented. Kind of blew my mind.
ReplyDeleteThe Internet - what a thing.
So it begins. Again. Slowly. Possibly still sporadically.
Thanks, Richard. <3