To Everything There Is A Season

One of my constant whines – I can only imagine the surprise it must be for many of my friends to think I would actually whine about something – when I first returned from Italy had to do with food. It just wasn’t the same in Canada. Things weren’t fresh picked – they had been shipped in unripened and allowed (or forced chemically) to ripen in the store. There was not flavor! No great variety! And many of the vegetables and fruits were available – if in perhaps a state of tastelessness – year round. There was no seasonality!

Now given the climate in Ottawa the idea of fresh picked does have its seasonal limitations – the probability of anything growing is low and the improbability of anyone harvesting at -32c are reasonably high. But come on now variety? Would that be so hard to do?

Though things are looking up for varieties – particularly heirloom vegetables – but this photo taken at a flower shop in Sorrento will give you an indication of the variety of tomatoes that are grown in Italy.

You say tomato - I say TOMATOES! Eleven!  Count them - eleven types of tomatoes.  You name the occasion and you've got a red (yellow or green) ball of goodness that was made just for Nona's secret recipe.

Eleven – count them eleven different seed packets and none of them are “heirloom” – just your average Italian garden variety. Some for sauce, some for salad, some for roasting (god is there anything closer to heaven than roasted tomatoes?), others for stuffing, yet another for matching with a good Mozzarella di Buffala. I recall buying tomatoes from our local greengrocer (who by the way is still there and greeted us with big smiles and the hope that we were back to stay) and the first question was always: what are you using them for?

And of course what was available depended on the time of year – for everything. The watermelons were sweet and juicy in August but forget finding any on the market in September, artichokes were the last weeks of March and the first week of April, figs (the sweet, pale green skinned Italian variety) in June and July and this time of year: late October early November it’s kaki season!

A type of persimmon, but unlike any from North America I've every tasted, the kaki has a custardy texture with just a touch of astringency.  And apparently you can use it as an instrument to foretell the weather for the coming season.

Sidd joined me at Peter and Joe’s in savouring the joy of a chilled kaki ready to burst its orange skin and deliver creamy, custardy, astringent but sweet goodness.
I’m not sure if they remember my child-like (okay perhaps childish is a better adjective) joy when kaki season arrived but it was the perfect finish to a splendid meal with cherished friends in a place I love.

November 10 - 1871:Henry Morton Stanley locates missing explorer and missionary, Dr. David Livingstone in Ujiji, near Lake Tanganyika, famously greeting him with the words, "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"

SeedSayer

Okay that whole thing about the seeds in a kaki predicting what the upcoming winter will be like!!!!! What sort of nonsense is that? I mean I sliced open one of the seeds and found:

Where's the spoons? the forks? the knifes? This is some sort of cruel joke right? Its like those videos on YouTube that are not available in my region? One of those ethnocentric things that applies only to North American persimmons?

Damn now I won't know if I should buy a snow shovel or just a warmer coat!!!

30 ottobre - San Marcello di Tangeri

Kaki Time

No that's not a misspelled fashion statement. Its Plantae Ericales Ebenaceae Diospyros time of year here in Italy. Its guaranteed that in late October-early November a wander past any fruit stand or market display will reveal white Styrofoam trays holding three ripe orange/brown/golden yellow squishy balls of delicious goodness. Or there will be bins of yellow hard fruit ready to take home and ripen on the window sill. And they will appear as a frutta along with the ubiquitous ananas (pineapple) on restauarnt menus.

In North America we call them persimmons, in other places they are Shizi, Date Plums, Black Sapote or Mabolo depending on the variety and location. The variety grown in Italy - 5th in worldwide persimmon production - is the Japanese persimmon or Kaki.

Persimmon is not a fruit that I ate much back in Canada - maybe in a pudding once or twice at Thanksgiving but that it would be about it. As I recall North American persimmons were small and even when ripe had a slight astringency that could be almost unpleasant. Not so the Kaki - Kakis??? what is the plural? - appearing in the markets here. They are large, plump and soft to the point of appearing to the unaccustomed eye as being overripe. When split open they reveal a sweet, custardy centre with two seeds encased in gelatin. And the taste - well for me it brings to mind the Ancient Greek appellation: Fruit of the Gods.

As well as having all sorts of medicinal and nutritional value it appears the seeds can be used as a weather oracle. According to Wikipedia:

It is said that one can predict the winter by taking the seeds out of some persimmons and then slicing the seeds. The shape that shows up the most inside each seed will indicate what kind of winter to expect.

The three shapes resemble three eating utensils:
A Knife - there will be a cold icy winter (as in the wind will slice through you like a knife).
A Spoon - there will be plenty of snow for to shovel.
A Fork - there will be a mild winter.

I'll have to try that tonight and let you know what my kaki predicts - though I would be surprised if many spoons showed up here in Italy.

28 ottobre - I Santi Simone il Cananeo e Guido