This is a persimmon.
There are persimmons trees on the slope above my grandparents’ graves, which are beautiful while you’re looking across the cemetery and down to the river. They are not as beautiful when mashed onto the bottom of your shoes, and making the car smell atrocious.
So when a coworker of Indian heritage gave me a bag with six plump, orange fruits and a few persimmon chocolate chip cookies, I was skeptical. These were Fuyu persimmons: in season until February, sweet but light, and not as crotchety (harsh when unripe) as the American persimmon.
There are several good reasons for why I have not updated this blog for over a week.
One: I’ve been skipping around a lot: going dancing, on trips to Lyon, snowshoeing, eating, all those things you think people do in France.
Two: When I’m not doing those things, I’m inexplicably laid up in bed with a cold that hangs around for a day or two and then fades out.
This means that yesterday I was stumbling around the nearest, and unfortunately most expensive, grocery store in town wishing beyond reason for a cellophane block of ramen noodle soup. Whatever the French are good at when it comes to baking does not extend to the MSG-packed goods that I crave when sick.
That’s right. I did use sriracha, though. Recipe here. Here’s to bringing back Fromage Friday this week, and to the fact that I still had fromage friday when I was feeling sick, even if I didn’t write about it.