I don’t know about you, but I have a soft spot for puddings. There’s just something about their creamy, smooth texture that gets me every time. And among my favorite puddings, Persimmon Pudding holds a very special place. This dessert, with its unique tangy-sweet flavor profile, is a game-changer. Originating from the American Midwest, Persimmon Pudding is a traditional fall and winter dessert, often served during Thanksgiving and Christmas. It’s made from the pulp of the Hachiya persimmon, a fruit that’s known for its rich, honey-like sweetness. What I love about this pudding is the simplicity of its preparation. With a few basic ingredients, a bit of mixing, and some patient baking, you get a dessert that’s out of this world! Plus, it’s flexible. You can adjust the sugar level to suit your taste, and even swap milk for cream if you’re after a richer flavor. Just remember, the key to a great Persimmon Pudding is the quality of your persimmons. Make sure they’re ripe and sweet. So, are you ready to try this amazing dessert? Let’s get started!
Ingredients
- 2 c. persimmon pulp
- 2 c. sugar or less
- 2 eggs
- 1 c. milk or cream
- 1 1/2 to 2 c. flour
- 2 tsp. cinnamon
- pinch of cloves
- pinch of salt
- 1 tsp. soda
- 1 tsp. baking powder
- 1/2 stick margarine
Baking Instructions
- Preheat oven to 325°.
- Melt margarine in large rectangular pan.
- Mix all ingredients together; add melted margarine.
- Mix. Pour batter into pan margarine was in.
- Bake one hour at 325°.
Calorie: 250
Total cooking time: 1 hour 15 minutes
Difficulty level: Easy
The Persimmon Punctuation
Like many of my culinary exploits, this one started with an innocent trip to the farmer’s market. One look at the ripe, rosy persimmons, and I was hooked. Little did I know, I was about to embark on what I can only describe as the ‘Persimmon Punctuation’. A tale of pulp and sugar, eggs and milk, flour and spices, and of course, the humble margarine.
The Persimmon Pulp Predicament
My kitchen counter was a battlefield, and the persimmons were my foes. The challenge was to turn these beautiful, stubborn fruits into 2 cups of persimmon pulp. I’d like to tell you it was a breeze, but then I’d be lying. After a good 30 minutes of wrestling with the persimmons, the pulp was finally ready. My kitchen, however, looked like a scene from a fruit-themed horror movie.
The Sweet Symphony
Next, it was time to introduce the persimmon pulp to its sweet partner, sugar. Now, the recipe calls for 2 cups of sugar, but I’m more of a ‘less is more’ person when it comes to sugar. So, I decided to use just one cup. I know, I know, I’m such a rebel.
The Eggcitement Builds
With the pulp and sugar finally getting along, it was time to bring in the eggs. Two eggs, to be precise. It’s always a bit of an eggventure (sorry, I couldn’t resist) cracking eggs. One wrong move and you’ve got a mess on your hands. Thankfully, the eggs surrendered without a fight and blended nicely into the mix.
The Milky Way
Then came the milk, or in my case, cream. Because let’s face it, everything’s better with cream. After a brief whirl with the mixer, the cream had perfectly merged with the pulp, sugar, and eggs. It was a beautiful, creamy sight to behold.
The Flour Power
The flour was next to join the party. While the recipe suggested 1 1/2 to 2 cups of flour, I took a middle path and added 1 3/4 cups. As I stirred the batter, the flour got to work, transforming the liquid mixture into a thick, promising batter.
The Spice of Life
The batter was then graced by the presence of our spices – cinnamon and cloves – along with our faithful companions, salt, soda, and baking powder. Each added their own magic to the mix, filling my kitchen with a warm, comforting aroma.
The Margarine Meltdown
Lastly, it was time for the margarine. After a quick trip to the microwave, the margarine melted into a golden puddle, which I then mixed into the batter. I must say, watching margarine melt is oddly satisfying.
The Baking Bonanza
The stage was set. My oven had been preheating at 325°, ready to welcome the batter. I poured the mixture into the same pan where the margarine had melted, and let it bake for an hour.
The Pudding Payoff
The result? A beautiful, aromatic persimmon pudding. The kind that makes you forget about the persimmon pulp massacre or the egg-citing ordeals. The kind that makes you believe that every bit of persimmon wrestling was worth it.
So, folks, that’s the story of my ‘Persimmon Punctuation’. A tale of pulp and sugar, eggs and milk, flour and spices, and the humble margarine. A tale that has forever punctuated my culinary journey with a sweet, delicious dot.
