Daddy had a huge persimmon tree in our front yard. He and Momma were firm believers in having gardens and fruit trees to provide for our table. And together with their green thumbs, our table was bountiful. Some of the bounty, I could have done without but different strokes for different folks. Like turnips, I just could not make myself eat them, no matter how good Momma said they were.
That persimmon tree was admired by the neighbors. And Daddy had to use a long ladder to get the fruit in the fall when they ripened. That dark orange, acorn-shaped fruits were hanging from the tip-top to the bottom limbs of that ginormous tree. From the road, it provided a beautiful piece of artwork. The tree was what we called “loaded.” That meant there was plenty for everyone. He always carried a pocket knife and he could be often be seen rocking on the porch, cutting into his persimmon and scooping the pulp out with a spoon.
In 2004, they had been living on this property for fifty-plus years so Daddy knew every inch of the place. He probably rode his tractor enough miles to circle the Earth a few times. The state came through and informed them about the progress that would be made in their area. This “progress” would force them to move. If you are interested, you can read more about that here. Needless to say, it broke Daddy’s heart to leave his home. Mother was more flexible and practical so she accepted fate. His new home was less than a mile from the old place. Daddy would drive his old truck down and just walk around looking at “his place.”.
He had been watching that persimmon tree carefully so he could go back and get some when they were perfectly ripe. Nothing was being done with the property that he had sold so he did not have any qualms about getting his persimmons. When the day came, he drove down with his bags and boxes. Lo and behold, the tree was stripped of every persimmon. Not even one was left on the ground. He came home and was just upset and flabbergasted. That year, he got no persimmons. We never learned who the culprit aka persimmon thief was or how they managed to remain so incognito. And we never discussed again. I would go to local fruit stands and buy Daddy a few to eat but his heart was not in it.
When I saw these persimmons in Whole Foods, I recognized them as the same type Daddy had growing in the front yard. There are so many triggers that bring memories of my parents back to me. This was one of those light bulb moments. I am grateful that they are together now gardening in that big heaven above. I am thankful to them daily for the wonderful childhood and upbringing I had back in the ’50s and ’60s.
Daddy, I have made a soft, spicy cookie using persimmon pulp. I know you would love it.
PERSIMMON COOKIES
Soft, spicy cookie with orange glaze
Ingredients
COOKIE
- 2 1/4 Cups all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- Pinch salt
- 1 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1 /2 teaspoon nutmeg
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temp
- 1 cup sugar
- 1 cup Hachiya Persimmon pulp (about 2 persimmons)
- 1 egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- 1 cup chopped pecans
Drizzle
- 2 cups confectioners sugar
- Scant 1/4 cup orange juice
Instructions
COOKIE
Preheat oven 350 degrees. Prepare two cookie sheets with parchment paper.
Whisk first five ingredients together in a bowl. Set aside.
In mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar on high. Scrape down sides of the bowl.
Add persimmon, egg, and vanilla. Beat on high to incorporate all persimmon. (If you see any stringy pieces, just pull those out.)
Fold in pecans.
Use a small cookie scoop to drop onto a sheet. Bake 12 minutes.
Hey Kathy— we have that same tree —we call it a Japanese persimmon— we bought and planted it for the 🦌 to eat, but they don’t— they eat everything else—even every plum tree, apple and other fruit tree Charlie plants—thanks for the recipe—going to try It when we have the persimmons—I don’t care for them too much, but might like the cookies.
Love your stories.