Crowing About Fruit

The path to self-forgiveness is paved with persimmons.

This is probably news to you. It certainly surprised me.

A mere 24 hours after the mushroom incident at Mineko's house, while I was still suffering overwhelming guilt resulting from my boorish-to-put-it-mildly behavior, Shinagawa-san invited me to taste a persimmon. How could I possibly decline and still face myself in the mirror every morning? (Of course, some might question why I would even want to look in a mirror but there's nothing like counting wrinkles to keep one's brain active when crossword puzzles are in short supply.  Just another little pearl of wisdom with my compliments.)

The mothers in my midwest neighborhood didn't serve their families persimmons in the mid-twentieth century.  In fact, until I did a little fruit research for today's post, I wasn't even sure persimmons pre-dated my birth but now I know that they are native to the Eastern United States and were named by the Algonquians.

Until yesterday, persimmons were as alien to me as parsnips, kumquats, kiwi fruit, and pomegranates.  It's possible parsnips have snuck down my throat my hiding in a stew if they are the vegetable that looks something like a potato.  The first time I saw broccoli I was freshman in college.  I liked it and have been eating it ever since.

A persimmon looks like a tomato so I wasn't all that surprised to learn that they are both classified as "true berries", although I have no idea what that means. A persimmon tastes like a pear, at least that's what my taste buds insist. The texture reminds me of a pear as well.

In short, I've decided I like persimmons. I like them a whole lot more than I will ever like mushrooms. Had I lost my faith in God, the taste of persimmons would make me a born-again believer. He rewarded me for trying a new food far more than I deserved.

In Japan, persimmons are called kaki and people grow them in their backyards.  Oysters and fences are also called kaki so I probably will never work up the nerve to order persimmons in a restaurant.

Now that I have atoned for my sin, I am going to haul out the sewing machine and finish that scarf the American way.