I got to experience the taste of my first wild persimmon this past weekend.
Who knew that the tropical fruit, a rarity even in most grocery stores around where I live, actually grew in Pennsylvania? Apparently my dad did and, unbeknownst to me, has been secretly munching on the wild orange balls of sweet, juicy jelly for years.
On the way to pick out a Christmas tree, my dad pulls over on the side of the road, points to one of the leafless trees, and says “Look up.” Amongst the grey, barren shrubs, there was one tree still carrying some fall-like color, its branches loaded with little orange persimmons.
Self-proclaiming myself a “fruitarian” at just 5 years old, I’ve been a lover of fruit my whole life. Of course my dad would know that this persimmon tree would bring out my inner kid and fuel me with excitement. How cool…persimmons in PA!? A little fatherly shake of the tree, and there I was again, standing in the middle of the road gorging my heart out on nature’s candy.