Good Friends and Persimmons

Human Highlighter Suit Tally: 10

Our friend John Green arrived this morning from frozen New York City.  You know someone is a good friend when they have only two nights to spend in Barcelona and they opt to spend one of them going to your children’s holiday concert.  Rumor has it that last year’s concert started way late and ran more than three hours.  But there is a new music teacher this year, and we were promised that it wouldn’t go longer than an hour and a half.  Still, I call this loyalty.

I figured the least I could do is feed him well before and after.  Last night I whipped up a tortilla and my first experiment with the persimmons—some lemon-glazed persimmon bars.  I had also gone to the market to buy a few good cheeses, membrillo and some quality jamon.  A green salad, and dinner prep was done.

Alec’s reaction to my declaration that I intended to embark on a persimmon adventure was less than excited.  His description of the fruit?  Mushy, bland and viscous.  I bought some at the market—they are called palo santos here—but they did not look exactly like the ones I’ve seen in New York.  I did a bit of research and found that there are two kinds of persimmon—fujis and hachiyas.  Fujis are the squat, harder variety that I’d seen before coming here.  Hachiyas have a more elongated shape and thin-skinned; when ripe they seem almost to glow from the inside.  The persimmons I’ve found here are hachiyas.  They are very soft, and very sweet.    When I got mine home, I opened one up and scooped some out—very soft and very sweet.  Not my favorite fruit.

So I searched around for recipes, and found the persimmon bar one on Epicurious, rated four forks.  You scoop out the persimmon pulp and press it through a strainer, then mix it with flour, egg, sugar, clove, cinnamon, nutmeg, lemon, and finely chopped dates and nuts.  After you bake that part and let it cool, you make a simple glaze of lemon juice and zest, and confectioner’s sugar and spread it over the top.  The result?  Really tasty, but the persimmon flavor doesn’t really jump out at you.  The color, combined with the spices and nuts, made Alec think pumpkin more than persimmon.   I’d make them again, but I also want to do some more experimenting while they’re still around.  I’ve passed a few trees that are leafless and heavy with ripe fruit.

And the kids’ concert was lovely—I will post videos and photos soon.  I got C.C. to wear a dress by telling her it was a tunic, just like the ones knights wear.  Milo wore real shoes, not sneakers.  And their renditions of Jingle Bells (Milo) and a Spanish lullaby (C.C.) were really sweet.  John snoozed in the audience, and the concert was over in under an hour, which I think must be some kind of record.  We stopped at Foix—a fabulous bakery in Sarria—on the way home for some baguette, pastry, and a brioche for the morning.  Sat around the table talking and eating for a long time, catching up with a good friend.