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I just learned that the ; Genus — first name — of the ; Persimmon tree, Diospyros, translated from the Latin, means “food of the God.” Since ■ the term’s origin is Greek, the | God referred to is Zeus, the big * boss of them all. * In regards to a distinct ! taste — which is divine — I would agree. Some lesser God must have prepared the fruit for Zeus; getting the divine and ^distinct goodness out of a per- simmon is hard work. * Separating the sweet pulp ’of a persimmon from its flat ; seeds and outer covering is, in current jargon, “labor intensive” to a high degree. How well I remember my mother working through a “mess” of orangebrown, frost- nipped persimmons to get enough pulp to . make persimmon pudding; one ! of those desserts of late autumn that punctuated and defined my sprouting years in central North Carolina.
In a deep dish, the pudding * came straight from the oven to ' the table. When a spoon broke ; into it. sweet smelling steam floated across the table. The pudding was served in bowls and topped with shipped cream; hot and cold were ! blended into perfection. This desert appeared infrequently, no more than twice between Halloween and Christmas.After the turn of the year, there. were no more persimmons because opossums and raccoons got to the sweet fruit for their own special occasions. - When later in life I became a cook myself, I tried to get the recipe of persimmon pudding from my mother. It was impossible. She was an instinctive fcnd natural cook who never followed a written recipe. There were no measuring cups for her. An amount of anything was lermed a “dab” and illustrated £y a cupped hand. What I
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