When your neighbor casually hands you what has to be at least $40 worth of organic Fuyu persimmons, what exactly are you supposed to do? You Google persimmons. And then you learn more about persimmons in forty-five minutes than you ever expected to know in your entire adult life.
Because apparently persimmons are one of the most complicated fruits ever invented. And they also happen to be one of the only quintessential fall foods that I know nothing about. Until today.
Persimmon Quick Bread Recipe: A Beginner’s Guide to Baking with Persimmons
There are different varieties of persimmons. They ripen differently. Some you can eat firm. Some will punish you severely if you eat them before they are practically collapsing into themselves. Some are shaped like tomatoes. Some look like acorns. And all of this information becomes suddenly very important when several hundred bright orange fruits have appeared in your life overnight.
My neighbor just happens to have mature persimmon trees, and this fall she gifted us some fall fruit. We came back from our leaf peeping adventures, camping and hiking in the mountains of California to a whole lot of ripe orange fruit. This home baker had to come up with a plan.
Fuyu, Hachiya & Other Orange Weirdos
The Fuyu persimmon is the short, squat one that looks a little like a hard orange tomato. Unlike the softer Hachiya variety, Fuyu persimmons can actually be eaten while they are still fairly firm, although they become sweeter as they ripen. And sometime in October, if the weather cooperates and you pray appropriately to the fruit gods, suddenly there they are in all their orange glory.
Which is excellent timing this particular year, because here in our mountain hometown of Big Bear Lake, California, the apple situation has been downright tragic. Our two apple trees lost their buds during a freak late-spring snowstorm, and apparently most of the neighborhood suffered the same fate. So this autumn, there are no backyard Honeycrisp apples for us. No crisp mountain apples hanging from the branches. No homemade apple everything.
Mother Nature basically looked at Big Bear and said, “You wanted fall fruit? Cute.” So we learned about persimmons. Honestly, I can see why people love them, but persimmons seem like a fruit that requires commitment.
They take forever to ripen. Then suddenly they all seem to ripen at once. And if you have a productive tree, congratulations: your yard is about to become an all-you-can-eat buffet for every creature within several miles. Depending on where you live, ripe persimmons can attract raccoons, opossums, squirrels, deer and bears. Around here, I would not be remotely shocked if a donkey wandered into the yard and decided he had also become a persimmon enthusiast. Apparently everybody loves free fruit.
And while persimmons can be messy little orange troublemakers, they are actually nutritional overachievers. Persimmons are a good source of fiber, which helps with digestion and can help you feel full longer. They also provide vitamin A, important for eye and immune health, and vitamin C, which supports immune function and helps the body produce collagen.
Persimmons also contain a variety of plant antioxidants, including carotenoids and flavonoids. In other words, while I am turning these things into persimmon bread with cranberries and orange zest, I can at least pretend breakfast is being extremely responsible.
And that is how I went from knowing approximately nothing about persimmons to standing in my motorhome kitchen surrounded by orange fruit, grated orange zest and cranberries, determined to create the ultimate persimmon bread recipe. Because when life refuses to give you Honeycrisp apples, apparently you bake with persimmons.
Do You Have to Peel Persimmons Before Using Them?
So, do you have to peel persimmons before using them in a persimmon bread recipe? Technically, no. Persimmon skin is edible. But whether you actually want the skin involved depends on which persimmon has wandered into your kitchen and what exactly you are planning to do with it.
For baking with persimmons, Hachiya persimmons are usually the star of the show. These are the elongated, acorn-shaped persimmons that need to become extremely ripe before you use them. And by extremely ripe, I mean the kind of soft where you pick one up and it immediately turns to baby food in your hands. That is a ripe persimmon.
This is exactly what you want.
An underripe Hachiya persimmon is so aggressively astringent that eating one feels like somebody Scotch-Brited the inside of your mouth. You can drizzle raw honey over it. You can whisper encouraging words to it. You can sprinkle cinnamon over the top and light a candle. It will not care.
Once a Hachiya is fully ripe, though, the flesh becomes soft, sweet and almost pudding-like, which makes ripe Hachiya persimmons perfect for baking. For this cranberry persimmon bread, I usually cut the persimmon open and scoop the soft pulp away from the skin rather than bothering to formally peel it. There is no reason to turn breakfast bread into a surgical procedure.
Fuyu persimmons are the squat, tomato-shaped ones and are a completely different personality. They are delicious while still firm and are fantastic sliced into salads, charcuterie boards or eaten straight out of your hand. If you are confused about Fuyu vs. Hachiya persimmons, just remember: Fuyu says, “Eat me whenever.” Hachiya says, “Touch me before I am ready and I will destroy your afternoon.”
Persimmon Bread Recipe with Cranberries: Fall’s Most Confusing Fruit Finally Explained
Every fall, persimmons begin showing up in grocery stores looking like an orange tomato that wandered into the produce department wearing a Halloween costume. And every fall, somebody looks at one and thinks, What the hell is a persimmon?
A persimmon is a sweet autumn fruit that can range from firm and crisp to incredibly soft and custardy depending on the variety. They are fantastic in fall baking, especially when paired with warm spices, orange zest and tart cranberries. That is exactly why I love making this persimmon bread recipe with cranberries and orange zest when autumn arrives. The combination is basically autumn showing off in your kitchen.
Sweet persimmon pulp, tart cranberries and fragrant fresh orange zest all baked into one cozy loaf. It is the kind of persimmon quick bread that makes your motorhome, mountain cabin or regular suburban kitchen smell like you have your life considerably more together than you actually do.
Did you know Persimmon Seeds Are Also Tiny Kentucky Meteorologists?
Did you know people have been predicting winter weather by cutting open persimmon seeds? True story. Well, true central Kentucky folklore, anyway.
This little nugget of Appalachian and Southern weather wisdom came to me courtesy of somebody from the Commonwealth of Kentucky, where apparently the people took one look at Doppler radar and said, “That’s cute. Hand me a persimmon.”
According to the old tale, you carefully split open a persimmon seed and look at the tiny white shape inside. If it resembles a spoon, supposedly you are in for a snowy winter because you will be shoveling snow. If it looks like a knife, 
prepare for bitter winds that will supposedly “cut” through you. And if the shape looks like a fork, folklore says you may be looking at a relatively mild winter. Of course, if it looks like a cross, start building an Arc and somebody call Jerry Springer. Is this weather prediction method scientifically proven? Absolutely not. But neither is half the weather forecasting I see on Facebook.
Apparently generations of Kentuckians have been splitting persimmon seeds open and predicting winter without satellites, computer models or a five-minute press conference from Andy Beshear explaining why everybody should please stop driving their pickup trucks directly into floodwater.
Honestly, Kentucky may be onto something. If Governor Beshear ever walks up to a podium holding three persimmon seeds and announces, “Folks, we got ourselves a spoon,” I am immediately buying snow chains. That is the kind of meteorology I can understand. Forget atmospheric pressure. Show me the fruit.
And while we talking about Kentucky politicians, there is still Mitch McConnell; I’m not making any medical predictions whatsoever. I’m just saying that sometimes during a long Senate hearing he has the same facial expression I have after hiking fourteen miles at altitude and realizing the Jeep is still three switchbacks away.
Here in California, Apparently Weather Is Our Entire Personality Now
Here in California, I swear all w
e talk about anymore is the weather. Very funny, for a state that never has any weather. We have spent years being told there is no rain. Then suddenly there is too much rain. There are atmospheric rivers, bomb cyclones, heat domes, hurricane remnants and approximately seventeen new weather phrases invented specifically to terrify people into buying every gallon of bottled water at Costco. Apparently Mother Nature hired a publicist.
If a tropical system is churning somewhere offshore, somebody in Southern California is already posting a photo of an empty supermarket shelf and another person is constructing an ark in Temecula between vineyards. There will be room on board for two golden retrievers, two Labradoodles and at l
east one conservative’s dog named Tucker.
Meanwhile, here in the Eastern Sierra Mountains of California, we are much more interested in squeezing every last drop out of our autumn vacation before winter finally crashes the party. During our last week here in the Eastern Sierra, besides crazy winds, we didn’t really see any effects from Hurricane Rachel, although I spent a few days hiking in my snow boots, doing a snow dance and hoping we would get that snow predicted. Nope. Just more orange and yellow trees and some deserted epic high elevation lakes. Now who can complain about that?
Up here in the high country, the aspens are beginning to lose their canopy of yellow and orange leaves as cold winds whip through the mountain passes. The highest elevations are already starting to feel like winter, and I am absolutely ready for it.
My favorite fleece overalls are laid out. My snow boots are waiting by the motorhome door. And there is a bowl of ripe Hachiya persimmons sitting on the RV kitchen counter, waiting
to become orange cranberry persimmon bread when Adventure Dog and I get back from our latest hiking adventure.
We hoped to find some early-season snow. And if that meant trekking above 11,000 feet to find it, fine. Look out, Tioga Pass. Here we come.
I did not spend a small fortune putting serious off-road snow tires on my four-wheel-drive Jeep Cherokee Trailhawk just so I could drive it through the Target parking lot. Those KO3 tires deserve adventure and they are ready for snow days just like I am.
And apparently those persimmons deserve cranberries, fresh orange zest and a loaf pan.
Persimmon Bread Recipe with Cranberries, Ginger & Orange Zest
Orange zest, from one orange
1/4 cup candied ginger, chopped
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup organic sugar
1 cup of Bisquick mix
1 cup of very ripe persimmons, chopped
1 egg, room tempature
1/4 cup of coconut oil, melted
To start this Persimmon Bread recipe, beat your room tempature egg. Add the coconut oil and then the persimmons. Mix this well, then add the rest of the ingredients. Bake at 325 for 60-65 minutes.
