Persimmons were not in my repertoire of food until a few years ago.
Actually, I lied. They were but in a context in which I hadn't grown to love them.
The fall of my junior year of college, my friend Jenny and I took a bike ride to this bridge which is famed for its graffiti. Neither of us had ever been on our bikes for that long of a distance (5 or so miles), where the wind to the west and east is as cruel in one direction as it is exhilarating in the other. After spending some time inspecting the graffiti, we found a few persimmon trees along the road and each picked one, like a bright orange egg waiting to be hatched. Having never really been exposed to persimmons, especially those of the hachiya variety, I took it home and immediately cut it open. But, being of the hachiya variety, and it not even close to being ripe, I was immediately exposed to my first bout of astringency.Read More