Where I live the persimmon trees have already dropped their leaves. I love how stark they look. Gray tangles silhouetted against a gray sky with just a few crimson orbs dangling from their branches. I've lived in Los Angeles so long that I've come to consider the persimmon tree the real true Christmas Tree. The first harbinger of the season. The first hint that the holidays are coming. You can almost smell the sweet spice of them. I try to stop and savor this moment every year, because we all know that the stress of the holidays will soon follow. The weight of them will soon be felt.
But right now– they seem so enchanting, so full of possibility and promise.
Take fruit cake. Every year about this time I think to myself, "I should make fruitcake". The idea of fruitcake seems so romantic, ripe with holiday spirit and good intentions. So full of possibility– so promising. But then the calender clicks off a few more days. The big day looms more near. My to-do list grows. Suddenly I remember all the hassle involved tracking down all those gummy neon colored fruits. Besides, nobody really likes fruitcake. They (like me) have romanticized that little confection all out of proportion.
So before I get to that point. Before the possibility and the promise fizzle out like the last candle on the 8th night. I plan to make fruitcake.
But this fruitcake holds all of the promise and none of the burden. Because you will love this fruitcake. I made it with persimmon. Hachiya persimmon. Its pudding-like pulp will add just the right note of sweetness to this very dense, very moist "fruit" cake.
Sippity Sup Continues »
