Pleasure of Waiting

Even when the nights are chilly and the summer stone fruits long gone, autumn is not without it's bounty of jewels. Chestnuts and persimmons, pomegranates and bright skinned citrus. But truly autumn is not autumn until I spoon my first ripened persimmon, a pulpy pleasure which cannot be rushed.

These orange beauties sit rock hard making you doubt if they're ever going to give it up. I don't like to bring them home already ripened; I want to wait together, the fruit and me. You have long days and hard days when you snap at your dog or your husband. Too many of them pass and voila the persimmons yield to your thumb.

Great grandma Cho who use to eat her apples scraped with a spoon was particularly fond of these as is Hugo who still has most of his teeth.