Persimmon Applesauce

3 medium-small apples
2 medium Fuyu persimmons
1/4 c. apple cider (or subst. 1/4 c. water plus 1 tsp brown sugar)
1/3 c. water

Core apples (you do not need to peel them) and cut into large bite size pieces. Cut tops off persimmons and cut into large bite size pieces. Add fruit chunks to medium pot, along with cider and water.

Cover and bring mixture to a simmer over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for about 30 minutes, until apples have fallen apart and persimmon is very soft. Allow to cool for about 10-15 minutes.

Pass mixture through a food mill (use the coarse disc if you like chunky sauce, or use the medium one if you prefer it to be more smooth). Stir so that sauce has an even consistency.

Spoon into individual bowls, garnish with nutmeg or cinnamon if desired, and enjoy!

(Note: if you don’t have a food mill, you can still easily make this recipe. To do so, simply adjust recipe by peeling the apples and persimmons before adding to the pot, then cook as directed above. Then, use something like a potato masher or the back of a fork instead of a food mill.)

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Applesauce, in my eyes, is a food that has gone and come again. Tainted by years of finding plastic applesauce tubs in my grade school lunch box (when what I really wanted was soft-baked chocolate chip cookies…), I swore off applesauce once I was old enough to make my own food choices. I didn’t touch the stuff for probably 10 years until I came across a jar of 100% natural applesauce at my local natural foods store. The ingredient list was short: apples, water. Standing in the grocery store aisle, I found myself reminiscing about my childhood, and on a whim, I picked up a jar and brought it home. The stuff I was eating as a kid was a far cry from the delicious-ness I found in the jar at hand. I grew up in the 80’s during the rise of nutritionism and ‘equivalent chemical substitutes’, so I imagine what I was eating back then was packed full of unpronounceable chemicals and additives. The real thing, though, is delicious, nutritious, inexpensive, and extremely simple to make.

This recipe’s addition of persimmons was motivated, oddly enough, by a web traffic analysis tool I use for Modern Beet that tells me what search terms are bringing visitors to my site. The search term was ‘persimmon applesauce’, and when I saw it I thought, ‘wow, that sounds delicious!’, and decided to give it a try. Sometimes inspiration comes from strange and unexpected places.

The basis of this recipe is apples and persimmons, and the ingredient list is very short. Use Fuyu persimmons (firm and squat), not Hachiya persimmons (elongated and gelatinous when ripe). Regarding which type of apple to use, many different types would work. One that is both sweet and tart is my preference, like Braeburn or Pippin. If you use a tart apple like Granny Smith, you might want to add a tablespoon or two of brown sugar to sweeten the sauce. You could also use a mixture of sweet and tart apples and omit the sugar.

On a side note, at the farmer’s market this morning I found a variety of apple I had never seen before called (I think) Black Ridge, which the apple purveyor described as sweet and tart, similar to a pippin. It’s not too surprising that I’d never heard of this apple type before, as there are thousands and thousands and thousands of different apple types. In fact, if left to nature, EVERY apple tree would bear a different type of apple. Like how a human child is not an exact replica of its parent, neither does an apple tree produce the same fruit as its parent. But the apple tree goes farther– a human child has many of the same genes as its parent and will probably look somewhat similar–same hair color, same eye color, etc.; an apple tree grown from seed, however, has little or no resemblance to the tree on which it grew. This means that a seed from the sweetest apple could potentially produce the sourest apple you’ve ever tasted. How odd. In order for a tree to grow the varieties we’re familiar with — Delicious, Granny Smith, Fuji, Braeburn, Pink Lady, etc. — it must be grafted with a piece of an existing Delicious, Granny Smith, Fuji, Braeburn, Pink Lady, etc. tree, at which point it becomes an exact replica of the grafting tree. It’s both marvelous and slightly upsetting that humans have taken a plant with the potential for infinite variety and reduced it to a small handful of commercially viable types. (If you’d like to learn more about this, Michael Pollan’s The Botany of Desire has an incredibly interesting chapter devoted to just this)

Three Infusions: Persimmon Vodka, Lemon Vodka, and Pear and Ginger Vodka

Note: The amounts given are just approximations. The amount of fruit and vodka you will need will depend entirely on the size of the jars you use. You don’t need any special bottles, jars, or containers either–I used an old juice bottle (persimmon), an applesauce jar (pear/ginger), and a honey jar (lemon). Also, a mid range vodka will work just fine for this (i.e. Smirnoff). Save the Grey Goose for the dirty martini.

Persimmon Infused Vodka:
-5 Fuyu persimmons, tops with stems cut off, cut into 1/2 inch slices, and then cut in half again
- approx 1/2 liter vodka

Lemon Infused Vodka:
- 2 lemons, sliced lengthwise into eighths
- approx 1/4 liter vodka

Pear and Ginger Infused Vodka:
-2 Bartlett pears
-2 inch knob of fresh ginger, peeled, thinly sliced
-approx 1/4 liter vodka

Tightly pack infusion ingredients into a clean glass jar. Pour enough vodka over the top to cover. Seal with lid. Place in a cool dark spot and allow to infuse for about 2-3 weeks. At this point, you might want to strain the vodka, and add simple syrup (sugar and water heated until sugar dissolves) if you’d like the vodka to be more like a liquer or after-dinner drink (optional). Enjoy!

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Lazy Sundays can’t be beat. There have been times in my life when the day of the week didn’t matter too much and time was a very fluid thing–for good or bad though, now is not one of those times, and I savor my lazy Sundays.

This past Sunday I awoke on the early side, 8:30 or so (we’re talking weekend time here), made myself a cup of coffee, sat on my couch, and just looked out the window for a little while. How often does one do that? Or a better question, when does one possibly have the time to do that? only on a lazy Sunday, I suppose.

Staring out the window my mind wandered to a culinary adventure I’d seen in a blog post I’d read the previous day by ‘The Baklava Queen‘, a regular contributor to Ethicurean.com, about non-traditional, non-consumerist, home-made food-related gifts (that sure is a lot of hyphens!). Even before reading the entry, I had decided that this year for the holidays I was going to give edible gifts. I’ve been feeling the proliferation of ’stuff’ this year (this short video also made me want to avoid more ’stuff’), and instead of filling my favorite people’s lives with more ’stuff’, they will instead eat home-made, delicious treats.

One of the holiday tasties I decided to make is an array of fruit-infused vodkas. So, Sunday morning I jumped in my french fry-mobile and headed to the farmer’s market to pick out some infusing fruits. Persimmons are practically falling off the trees right now here in the Bay Area, including my favorite–the crunchy and firm Fuyu persimmon. Lemons too are starting to come into season, as are mandarins and other winter citrus. Apples and pears have been making appearances during the last month or two, and will continue into the winter and early spring. Due to their abundance (and the fact that all were less than $1/lb), I settled on persimmons, lemons, and pears (to be combined with ginger).

Infused vodkas are sooooooo easy to make. The steps are:

1. cut fruit
2. put fruit in jar
3. pour enough vodka over fruit to cover
4. put a lid on the jar
5. wait

seriously, that’s it.

The waiting part is a little bit gray. I found a source saying that three days is enough infusion time, but I found another that said wait at least a year! I think that 2-3 weeks is probably a good amount of time to infuse.

Instead of giving these as gifts, I’ll probably just take them home to Seattle and make holiday cocktails for my family. I’m thinking a simple combination of fruit-infused vodka, seltzer, and one accent ingredient to compliment the flavor of the vodka is the way to go, for example:

- Persimmon vodka, seltzer, and a tiny dab of home-made cranberry sauce
- Pear/Ginger vodka, seltzer, and 1T. of pear nectar
- fresh mint leaves muddled with sugar, Lemon Vodka, and seltzer

… but really, let your imagination guide you.