My aunt Eileen just gave me four plastic grocery bags of Hachiya persimmons that a friend shared with her. A bumper crop year, I gather. She doesn't bake, but gladly accepts such offerings because she knows she can deliver the goods to me or other suckers, I mean bakers, and that her gesture might just result in finished treats showing up back at her house. Slick trick, auntie.
I love baking, but four bags?! Holy Hachiya! I shared one bag with my boyfriend's mom, who isn't a persimmon person but who's surrounded by a revolving group of kin, one of whom might happily take them off her hands.
I've never grown persimmons, and for awhile was hazy on the whole baking versus eating thing. Hachiya... baking... tannic, then pulpy. Fuyu... eating... crispy. Got it.
So what do I do with these beauties? I Google them.
And forget expensive floral centerpieces, folks. This looks like a fun excuse to scrounge up some candles, get out the clippers, and wander around your yard before Thanksgiving dinner guests arrive. Yes, you can use persimmons in your centerpiece.
What am I thankful for this Thanksgiving? The obvious choices, but also the generosity in people that makes them want to share their bounty... the ability others have to pull us out of the darkness when we have run out of matches... and buttery slices of persimmon bread. Oh, and that strange, terrible, wonderful virtual neighborhood we call Facebook.
