What Is Persimmon? A Quick Guide To The Fruit

Winter is the best time to familiarize yourself with persimmon, a quintessential cold-weather fruit. When picked, stored, and consumed correctly, it offers a nuanced flavor that's hard to pinpoint. Honey, cinnamon, pear, mango, brown sugar, chocolate, squash, and apple are among the many notes that come through. While that blend does sound alluring, the notorious astringency and unusual texture of persimmon can be off-putting to a novice. The mouthfeel of persimmons varies dramatically between cultivars, most notably the apple-crisp fuyu meant to be eaten out of hand, and the custardy hachiya, which is best enjoyed with a spoon. Both have been cultivated in the U.S. for centuries yet have failed to reach the same iconic status and widespread acclaim as other fall fruits. Perhaps it's time we change that.

Whether you're new to this exotic yet strangely familiar fruit or have only had disappointing encounters with it, use our guide as a gateway to the wonderful, multifaceted gustatory experience concealed beneath persimmon's astringent exterior. We'll cover everything from its history and key cultivars to shopping and storage tips, as well as numerous ways you can use it in cooking and enjoy its nutritional benefits without having to suffer any mouth-puckering sensations.

Describing persimmons to the uninitiated can be hard because these fruits defy simple categorization. Some varieties look like tomatoes, have the mouthfeel of an apple, smell faintly of squash, and taste like cinnamon-dusted mango. Others, shaped like oversized, deeply orange acorns, can be either the best or the worst thing you've ever tasted. All persimmons, however, are berries of the Diospyros genus, a name derived from Greek words meaning "divine grain" or "food of the gods."

Curiously, Diospyros trees are native to two very distant parts of the world. In North America, Indigenous populations have long savored the Diospyros virginiana variety, but its plum-sized fruits have eventually been overshadowed by the more widely cultivated Diospyros kaki. In the late 19th century, this succulent variety made its way to the U.S. from Japan, a country so keen on the fruit that its status there is akin to that of apples in America. However, it might not have become Japan's national fruit had it not been imported from China in the seventh century, where it has already thrived for millennia.

Today, most persimmons grown in the U.S. are produced in California. A century ago, when persimmon trees saw a surge in plantings, the astringent hachiya was the top cultivar. But despite the promotional efforts of what was then the Southern California Persimmon Growers Association, it failed to become a staple, and it took several decades — and another wave of Asian immigration — for persimmon to come back in vogue, this time with the ready-to-eat, non-astringent fuyu.

Outside the South Atlantic and Gulf States, where the native American persimmon grows naturally, supermarkets typically offer two main varieties: fuyu and hachiya. These cultivars of Diospyros kaki, or Japanese persimmon, are perfect examples of the two broad categories all persimmons fall into: astringent and non-astringent. One easy way to tell the two apart is to examine their appearance. The stubby, flat-bottomed fuyu persimmons resemble beefsteak tomatoes, whereas the hachiya variety is acorn-shaped with an elongated body and a pointed bottom. The difference might be subtle to the untrained eye, but if you've ever sunk your teeth into an unripe, sour hachiya expecting it to have the crisp and sweet bite of fuyu, you'll understand its importance.

The low-maintenance fuyu persimmons dominate the market, and for a good reason. Their low tannin content, familiar apple-like texture, and lack of core and seeds make them a perfect on-the-go snack or ingredient in salads and grain bowls. Hachiya persimmons, on the other hand, demand patience from their admirers. They are next to inedible when unripe thanks to an overload of tannins, but give them time to ripen until their flesh feels as delicate as a water balloon, and they will reveal their jelly-soft, saccharine nature. Not everyone is a fan of their slimy texture though, so an alternative way to enjoy hachiya persimmons is to add them to smoothies or baking goods.

The answer to this question depends on who you ask. Fans of the firm fuyu persimmon appreciate it for its sweet profile, which is enriched with hints of cinnamon, pears, dates, and brown sugar. A love child of a sweet carrot and a mild papaya, with a light tannic aftertaste — that's fuyu for you. In contrast, hachiya persimmons appeal primarily to those familiar with their unique characteristics. The unripe fruit gets a bad rap for its highly astringent taste, whereas the ripe fruit's slimy, gelatinous consistency can be off-putting despite its rich flavor. And oh, what a flavor that is! Its sweetness is reminiscent of fall staples, such as apples, brown sugar, cinnamon, and apricots.

But what makes persimmons astringent? To answer that, we need to examine the astringency phenomenon itself. Even if you've never tasted persimmons, you might be familiar with the dry-mouth sensation that occurs after a sip of red wine or a bite of an unripe banana. All these foods have something in common: tannins. These phenolic compounds are one of nature's many ways to protect plants from predators by reducing their palatability. When tannins enter your mouth, they snuggle up to saliva proteins. As a result, your saliva becomes less slippery, making food feel gritty and preventing it from moving smoothly in your mouth. Fortunately, there's an easy fix for this: Let your persimmons ripen fully!

Now, if you've only ever tried fuyu persimmons, this section might seem unnecessary: After all, most of us know how to eat an apple, and that's exactly the approach this cultivar requires. The firm fuyu flesh is best when enjoyed as is: Bite into it without holding yourself back. Or slice it thin, top with some goat cheese and mint, and you've got yourself a beautiful appetizer. These same slices can be served over cream cheese-slathered bread for an inspired take on bruschetta or on salads and grain bowls. Whether or not to peel it is up to you.

Hachiya persimmons, once again, require special treatment. Before you even dare approach it with your tongue, make sure it's fully ripe. You can tell by its color (deep orange) and texture (fit to burst when gently pressed) that it's ready to eat. If they're not quite there, leave them on the counter stem side down for a few days to reach peak ripeness. When it's ripe, remove the stem with your hands and gently halve the fruit. Slurp it out of its bitter skin over a bowl or use a teaspoon to scoop the custard-like flesh out. Alternatively, you can freeze it whole then thaw it for 15 minutes before cutting the top off and eating it as a sorbet out of its frozen skin "cone."

One notable thing about the persimmon family is its remarkable genetic fluidity. This means that even trees of the same variety can produce different fruits, so even growers can't always determine which varieties they're going to produce. Sure, fuyu and hachiya dominate the market, but there are hundreds of persimmon varieties grown around the world. Most belong to the Diospyros kaki species, but notable exceptions include the "chocolate fruit" known as black sapote (Diospyros nigra), the aptly named date-plum (Diospyros lotus), and the caramel-like American persimmon (Diospyros virginiana). As it were, all kaki fruits fall into one of two major categories: astringent and non-astringent. The former include rare, brown-fleshed maru, the seedless tanenashi, and the triumph, which reportedly tastes like strawberry-grape jelly. Non-astringent varieties include the cinnamon and brown sugar-flavored hyakume, the chocolaty tsurunoko, and the spicy-sweet suruga.

At the intersection of these two categories, there's sharon fruit — a unique persimmon variety from Israel. Characterized by fuyu-like firm, crispy, orange flesh that's eaten like an apple's, this persimmon variety starts off tannic. In fact, it's a spin on the astringent triumph cultivar. However, an oxygen-free storage process transforms its soluble tannins into insoluble compounds, making them imperceptible and resulting in a sweet, crisp fruit without the typical pucker-inducing qualities of astringent persimmons.

With so much hubbub around the different varieties of persimmon, their ripening methods, and flavor nuances, the nutritional value of this ancient fruit is frequently overlooked. However, it has plenty to offer. The orange flesh of persimmon hints at its high carotenoid content, particularly β-carotenes, which our bodies convert to vitamin A. Persimmons also contain a B vitamins, potassium, magnesium, and phosphorus, providing a well-rounded nutritional package.

Anyone who's tried a perfectly ripe persimmon knows how sweet it can be. Interestingly, persimmons contain more sugar (12.5 g/100 g) than more popular counterparts like apples, peaches, pears, and oranges, making them an excellent energy source. Dried persimmons offer a concentrated nutritional punch, with 274 kcal per 100 g compared to 70 kcal in raw persimmons. They also boast a higher fiber content, providing 14.5 g per 100 g versus 3.6 g in their fresh counterparts. And eating fiber-rich foods can limit your levels of low-density lipoprotein (LDL) cholesterol — also known as "bad" cholesterol — and keep blood sugar in check. At the same time, the notoriously astringent flavor of persimmons indicates a high tannin content. These mouth-puckering flavonoids contribute significantly to the fruit's antioxidant properties. Adding to its antioxidant profile, persimmon is a good source of vitamin C, with a single fruit providing about 14% of the daily recommended intake. Overall, persimmon is nature's gift not just to your palate, but your immune, digestive, and cardiovascular systems.

Persimmons have a complex flavor that captures a range from brown sugar and cinnamon to apple and winter squash. This rich profile makes them a perfect addition to fall-winter meals, conveniently aligning with their peak season. Should you ever be so lucky as to harvest fresh local persimmons in the wild, the best time to do it is from mid-September to early January, after the fruit has already fallen off its branch to the ground. This is the most reliable indicator that it's ripe and ready to eat. However, because persimmons are climacteric, they continue to ripen post-harvest, so if you ever feel an overwhelming desire to break the rules and tear one off a branch, you can let it ripen on your counter (ideally next to ethylene-producing fruits such as apples). The same is true for imported persimmons, which are often shipped underripe.

Imported persimmons are available year-round. When trying to choose the perfect persimmons at the store, look for sweet-smelling, glossy-skinned, deeply orange fruit with its leaves intact. Poking or squeezing the fruit's flesh is a persimmon faux pas. This can bruise and damage the fruit, resulting in faster spoilage and ruin it for sellers and shoppers alike. So be gentle!

As lovely as persimmon is on its own — eaten like an apple or savored with a spoon — it also finds its way into many recipes. Its delicate flesh can withstand cooking methods as different as air frying and roasting, and its complex flavor profile is a welcome addition to sweet and savory dishes. You can add cooked persimmon cubes to warm salads or porridge. Curiously, persimmons' tannins make them ideal for whipping and foaming because they help to stabilize air pockets. For a light pudding, blend a ripe hachiya with lemon juice and maple syrup or some cacao, spoon into ramekins, and refrigerate. Soft and sweet hachiya also shines in muffins and loaf cakes.

The kind of open-minded cooks who wouldn't mind putting pineapple on pizza should consider persimmon as their next fruit choice. The firmer fuyu is your best bet here, whether you thinly slice it or finely chop it into a salsa with red onion and cilantro. To complete the winter-themed flavor ensemble, pair it with a creamy squash-based pizza sauce, crumbled tofu, and spinach. You can apply this outside-the-box thinking elsewhere, too: For example, consider adding persimmon to your next grilled cheese. Its subtle fruitiness and natural sweetness will balance the richness of the cheese. And while we're on the topic of cheese, a ripe persimmon puree dolloped over a broiled cheese dip is a next-level experience.

Considering its jelly-like, almost soupy flesh, you'd think we were going to suggest sipping ripe persimmon straight from the skin. However, there are more sophisticated ways to drink the fruit. Fermentation offers one avenue for extracting its flavors. Persimmon wine, for instance, harnesses the fruit's natural sugars to create a complex alcoholic beverage with hints of autumn spices. Kaki persimmons are recommended over virginiana ones for this due to their more consistent quality and flavor profile. Persimmon beer, on the other hand, was made with local fruits long before Asian varieties were imported to the U.S. What started as a drink of the enslaved people on Southern plantations eventually became popular with the elites — Thomas Jefferson even has a couple of recipes credited to his name.

For an (almost) nonalcoholic option, consider capturing the fall essence in a bottle by brewing persimmon-infused homemade kombucha or root beer. An even simpler way to enjoy these seasonal flavors any time of year is sujeonggwa — a traditional Korean cinnamon-ginger punch made with dried persimmon. Despite its warming spice bouquet, it is usually served cold and topped with fresh or rehydrated diced persimmon. Finally, persimmon smoothies offer a quick and nutritious way to enjoy the fruit, blending well with banana, plant milk, and warming spices like cinnamon or nutmeg. This works with both fuyu and hachiya persimmons, and you can use them fresh or frozen.

After carefully selecting the best-looking persimmons at the market, you'll be facing the question of home storage. Your strategy will depend on the variety. The firm fuyu persimmons, designed to be eaten out of hand, are best enjoyed right away. If left at room temperature, they will gradually soften, which is not a bad thing in and of itself, but might make it harder to slice and dice them for cooking. This will happen even faster if they're stored next to ethylene-producing fruits such as bananas or apples, so if you want fuyu persimmons to retain their bite, keep them away from other produce. Instead, put them in a single layer on a mesh rack or counter where air can circulate freely. Conversely, the astringent hachiya might need a little help to achieve custard-like ripeness, so its ethylene sensitivity can be used to your advantage.

The refrigerator is your best bet once persimmons reach perfect ripeness. A breathable paper or linen bag works great — just don't stack anything on top and keep them stem side down. Firm persimmons stay fresh in the fridge for at least one month. Softer ones last seven to 10 days. However, avoid storing ripe fruits in the crisper drawer for too long. They're sensitive to low temperatures and might get excessively slimy. If working with excess fruits, read on for long-term preservation methods.

Looking for ways to enjoy seasonal persimmons year-round? Every long-term storage method will do, depending on your taste. Fans of shelf-stable preserves should consider canning using the hot pack method. You'll need to precook the fruit, heat up the jars, then process full jars in a pressure canner or a water bath. If you're making persimmon jam, remember to add lemon juice. The increased acidity balances persimmon's flavor while ensuring food safety. Persimmon is naturally very sweet, so 1 cup of sugar should be enough per 4 pounds of fruit, though you can double the amount of sugar if you like your jams on the sweeter side.

Freezing persimmon puree is probably the easiest way to preserve it for months. It's versatile and easy to use, especially in smoothies. Keep in mind that uncooked persimmon purees keep longer than cooked ones. You can add sugar for extra sweetness — about 1 cup per pound of fruit — though it's not a requirement. Whole persimmons can also be frozen and thawed in the fridge later to achieve a sorbet-like consistency.

For those who prefer dried fruit, making persimmon leather is an excellent (though lengthy and labor-intensive) choice. You'll need to puree the fruit, add lemon juice to retain color, and dehydrate thin layers for six to 18 hours at 90 to 140 degrees Fahrenheit in a dehydrator. Follow a similar procedure for sliced persimmons. The result is a perfectly snackable, chewy, concentrated form of the fruit.

If you thought fresh persimmons were high-maintenance, wait until you hear about their dried counterparts in Japan, where they're known as hoshigaki. To make this unique delicacy, peeled astringent persimmons are hung out to dry. The success of this depends on good air circulation: Too little air (as well as too little space between the fruits) causes mold within days, while too much creates tough skin. If their dusty appearance seems unappetizing, consider this: The "mold" that covers these shriveled fruits comes from enviable levels of pampering. Future hoshigaki get a manual massage every few days — a treatment few other foods (or humans) can claim. It smooths out the fruit's wrinkles in order to fight off mold and coaxes the fruit's natural sugars to the surface. The coveted "sugar bloom" can take months to appear fully. When ready, the chewy, extra sweet hoshigaki can be enjoyed as is, stuffed with chestnut paste, or shredded into a daikon-based salad.

Japan isn't the only country big on dried persimmons — Georgia also has a strong tradition of preserving this fruit. Known locally as chiri, fresh persimmons are sold on every street corner of Tbilisi during the winter. Only the non-astringent types, such as sharon or korolyok are used for drying. Many locals dry persimmons at home, utilizing open spaces such as balconies and verandas. You'll find dried Georgian persimmons sold on street markets among garlands of churchkhela and next to vibrant layers of various tklapi, all examples of traditional Georgian vegetarian foods.