The Fruit Explorer Encounters a Fuyu Persimmon

To All,

Stop & Shop provided me with a fuyu persimmon (hereafter "fuyu"), which looks like a small, dark orange tomato (see picture). One of the things known from reading Mark Twain is that persimmons are overpoweringly and unforgettably sour if eaten before they are ripe. For advice on judging ripeness, see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzqQ_oFXPhE I let my fuyu sit on my kitchen window sill for a week until it was a little bit soft.

It turns out that you can eat this fruit in just about any way. To see what different experts recommend, see  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBEAwZ2kCa8 or https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZLS2mPcGCA or other videos readily found on YouTube. The former video claims that the ancient Greeks called the fuyu the fruit of the gods.

The fuyu has an especially prominent stem attachment (see picture). It's not as bad as the pineapple, but it surpasses most. To get it off, I turned the fuyu upside down and cut it vertically so that the attachment was all that was holding it together. Then I tore the two halves apart as if I were ripping a phone book in two. (Luckily, all of my readers are old enough to understand this analogy.) This removes the attachment from one half, and you can then easily tear off the other half. I then cut the fuyu into segments.

First going with the camp that considers the peel bitter and to be avoided, I pared the peel away from half the wedges and ate them. My first sensation was a wave of relief that I tasted no sourness; I had avoided the rookie mistake of eating an unripe persimmon. I then concentrated hard on the taste and discovered that there was none. None at all. This fruit is all texture. I must say, these are some very undemanding gods. Next going with the camp that considers the peel a piquant addition to the fuyu's flavor, I ate the rest of the wedges with the peel on. I could discern no difference.

If you slice a fuyu like a tomato, you will encounter some found art; see picture.

The verdict: This fruit was a real letdown. It turns out that I got this fruit at the very end of the season, so my theory is that I got a senescent one that had lost its vigor. I will try again next year, and I trust that I will then discover that it is indescribably delicious.

Now for your party tip. First serve your guests a platter of unripe fuyus. You can use each guest's reaction to judge his/her innate courteousness. Some will make forced, polite comments, whereas others will erupt in expostulations such as, "What is this crap?" Then, after making sure that it is the peak of fuyu season, bring out a platter of ripe fuyus. As your suspicious guests gingerly try them, watch the jeers turn to cheers as they shower you with hosannas for introducing them to such a divine fruit.

This is one fruit that clearly was named not by a marketeer but by someone with bad attitude.

The Fruit Explorer Eats an All-fruit Lunch

To All,

I decided to try an all-fruit lunch and see how it turned out.

First, I cut up a whole pineapple and ate about a quarter of it. (I have long been eating pineapples and do not consider them exotic, so they will not be treated in this series.) The only problem with pineapples is disposing of the top, which is large and spiky. It takes up almost an entire trash bag, and if you need to reach into the bag to retrieve something, you are likely to get stabbed.

Second, I ate another ataulfo mango. This was my third encounter with this fruit; you have already read about the first two unsatisfactory encounters. This mango was given to me by Mei-Ling, and this batch of mangoes had already been certified as primo by that gastronome extraordinaire, Mei-Mei. It appeared to be perfectly ripe. I cut a slice, scored it, turned it inside out, admired the presentation, and ate it. Sadly, I was indifferent to it. 

Third, I had that workhorse of fruit, the banana. Again, this fruit is not exotic and I don't plan to report on it. (I will note that back in the eighties, wondering about the truth of the cliche that banana peels are slippery, I designed an experiment. I went out into the parking lot of the Civil Air Terminal at Hanscom Field, put a splayed banana peel on the pavement with the inside part facing down, and gingerly stepped on it. I found it to be slippery in the extreme. Cliche confirmed.)

Fourth, I was going to have an orange but decided not to since I was full. I prize the large navel oranges, and they are my staff of life for four months a year, but we are at the end of the season, so I decided to conserve my dwindling stock and not pile yet more fruit into this meal.

The verdict: Though full, I found an all-fruit meal to be unsatisfying. I guess I would not have been a success as an early primate. Henceforth, I will use fruit as a side dish, dessert, or midnight snack.