The Way of the Persimmoninja

Autumn. Tis the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness . . . and persimmons.

This week, I have become a world expert on persimmons. Gabe and I bought a giant pack of persimmons from the Korean supermarket. Unfortunately, they were not ripe and I thought I was going to die when I ate one.

I am now learn-ed and realize there are at least two varieties of persimmon and that the usual one that we eat in Canada (Fuyu) is OK to eat unripe, but that the Hachiya variety, which Gabe and I bought, is loaded with tannins which will suck your mouth, esophagus, and everyone you care about, dry when unripened.

To ripen the Hachiya, one must wrap them up in plastic with a banana and permit as little oxygen as possible from getting into the fruit (hence some people will talk about submersing them in water) and wait for a week or two.

Then, and this is the important part, when it is a full moon, after meditating for 12 hours and climbing to the top of the highest peak of the furthest mountains, you must pluck the flower of good-persimmon-eating, slay the evil tannin monkey guarding it and return to your persimmons by day break- at which time, you eat the flower, smear the dead monkey blood on your face warrior-style, put the monkey skin on your head, do a persimmon tannin purifying dance three times, once while blindfolded, and when the sunlight first strikes your persimmons, you will take the fruit, cut it just so with your Katana sword and eat it. For this is the way of the persimmoninja.

Or you could just finish waiting the week or two for the fruit to ripen and eat them like a normal person. But where's the fun in that?