Although they grow well in our climate, persimmons seem like an exotic fruit, not often found in fruit bowls alongside apples, oranges and bananas. As for me, I’m simply mad about them. I’d rather have a luscious, ripe persimmon than a bowl of ice cream, and that’s really saying something, because ice cream is the pinnacle of human culinary creation. (I’ll brook no argument on this point.)
You may have had an unfortunate, if not downright scarring, experience with a persimmon in the past, due to some varieties’ extremely high levels of mouth-drying tannins. A few tannins are nice, such as in a glass of red wine. A whopping great bucketful of tannins, such as you’d encounter in an unripe hachiya persimmon, will cause you to feel as though someone had opened a direct portal between your mouth and the Sahara desert.
The heart-shaped, deep orange hachiyas are intensely flavorful, but only if eaten at the point of extreme ripeness, when their insides have practically liquefied in their shiny skins. You can speed the process along by storing them inside a paper bag. Your patience will be rewarded with a bite of heaven — a jammy treat that’s sort of a cross between pumpkin pie and a sun-warmed, juicy peach.
If you can’t wait that long for your heavenly reward, purchase the tannin-free fuyu variety: squat, sunset-orange packages of ready-to-consume goodness, delicious in every stage from crisp to squishy, but probably best somewhere in the middle. Eat them like an apple, skin and all, or peel them, puree them and use them in everything from cookies to risotto.