It’s a Khorma. It’s an Aloo. It’s: Khormaloo! Or: How to Eat a Persimmon

Khorma is the Persian word for “date” and aloo is the word for “plum.” Put them together (khorma + aloo) and clap your hands and you get: khormaloo! (Who knew that the Brangelina, Bennifer modern craze of mushing names together has a precedent in ancient Persia?)

Khormaloo is pretty popular in Iran. My parents certainly relished it, I recall vividly, but I counted this fruit as foe. The first time I tried one it did truly awful things to my tongue and I was done – it was over between us. (My thought process went something like: “It’s not me, it’s YOU, khormaloo! And we’re never ever ever getting back together. Like ever!” Why, yes, I had a thought process set to a hit soundtrack in the future. Didn’t you?)

I now trace this childhood chagrin to eating an unripe persimmon, which as everyone-in-the-know knows, is a surefire way to go off persimmons for good.

I certainly anticipated a lifelong grudge. And I was on guard.

But for the past few months, I couldn’t help but take note of the heaps of persimmons abundantly evident in my Brooklyn neighborhood’s markets. There they were: cute, round, orange — and they winked at me in greeting. “Charmed, I’m sure” I would nod back in greeting, but only to be polite mind you, without breaking my stride to heed their beckoning. I had not forgotten our hate-affair.

But the thought of writing about them crossed my mind and eventually became an irresistible nuisance. So I went and bought a handful. 3 for a dollar? Sold!

And there we were. Me and my fruitenemy. We met again. At long last.

Before continuing, I’ll have to get technical here. There are two types of persimmon commonly sold in the U.S.: Fuyu and Hachiya. The persimmons pictured here are of the Fuyu variety that are round and in a hurried glance pass off as tomato dopplegangers. Hachiya persimmons, not pictured, have a pointy acorn shape. Both types of persimmons benefit from being ripe, but with a Hachiya you really, really have to allow it to get ripe before you partake, otherwise you are in for a world of hurt. A world. Of hurt.

Are you confused? Join the club! Here’s a simpler way to straighten this whole thing out. A Fuyu persimmon can sit on its butt because its butt is flat, but a Hachiya can’t because its butt is pointy. If a persimmon can’t sit on its butt, it is a Hachiya and therefore you MUST allow it to fully ripen. (You are very welcome for this logical and refined clarification. Bringing elegance to blogging — that’s our motto here at Fig & Quince.)

Going back to our story, here’s what happened with the Fuyu persimmons I bought:

I waited for them to ripen – to grow soft to the touch. It took a few days for one and longer than that for the others. (During that time, they made a fetching still-life tableau — alone and with others. In particular, I enjoyed persimmons and primrose. A tongue twister!)

Once ripened – I ate one Persian style. (It tasted delicately sweet, with a texture that is syrupy and also reminiscent of a dense, pulpy banana. It was not the stuff of horror I recalled. It was: nice.)

Here’s how you eat a persimmon Persian style: cut the top with a sharp paring knife, admire the gorgeous hue, dig in with a little spoon, and scoop and scrape until you are done.

I made smoothies with the rest of the persimmons. That: was delicious! Highly recommend it.

Personal conclusion: I’m still not a passionate fan but no longer a foe, and ultimately appreciate the delicate enchantment of a good ripe persimmon. There are many amazing recipes for these orange sirens -everything from a beautiful persimmon salad with pistachios to a persimmon margarita (want!) to a pear and persimmon crumble (YUM!) – and now as I continue down the path of this illusory life, I resolve to sprinkle future autumn and winter fares with some inventive and novel uses of persimmon.

I also have to add that after reading up on persimmon in the course of writing this post, it really does seem like persimmon is a fruit (technically a berry, ahem) just about to burst out on the scene and make it big time. Big!

Question is: do you like persimmons? Do you have a favorite persimmon recipe?

While you ponder this, I’ll leave you with a link to an atmospheric picture (conducive to a contemplative reverie) I found online of a persimmon tree growing in someone’s actual backyard in Tehran. (This backyard has a lot of goodies growing there. So charming. I imagine the occupants to be quiet book-loving sorts of people who enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Including a good cup of tea every afternoon.)

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Once you’ve awakened from your reverie, here are some fun extracurricular readings on the subject of persimmons for your amusement – if you are so inclined:

The NY Times praises the persimmon (Praiseworthy article.)

Smithsonia magazine: 5 ways to eat persimmon (A persimmon salad with pomegranates! A persimmon margarita? I’m so there!)

10 amazing ways to bake with persimmon (Some of these are truly amazing. Worth a browse for sure.)

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Khoda hafez till next time.