Complex Numbers

Asking Persimmon

I'd never heard of this before reading the article, so here it is:

For Enslaved Cooks, Persimmon Beer Combined Ingenuity and Joy  
A conversation with Michael Twitty about the powerful history behind a centuries-old beverage.

When I was a kid, we had a persimmon tree. Apparently, the trick to persimmons is you have to wait for first frost (usually around October 15 in my area) to pick them, because they only ripen with extreme bitter cold (I consider anything below 45F "extreme bitter cold"). Never did appreciate the taste of them, but all kids have weirdnesses about food.

Michael Twitty, the James Beard Award–winning culinary historian, estimates he has brewed his grandmother’s persimmon beer about a dozen times. Made by fermenting Diospyros virginiana, the diminutive North American persimmon, with sugar, honey, and yeast, persimmon beer is more akin to fruit wine or liqueur than anything brewed with barley, malt, and hops.

In general, beer is fermented grain, while wine is fermented fruit. However, exceptions abound. Cider, usually from apples or pears, is its own category. Japanese sake is most often known as "rice wine" in English, probably because its alcohol content is higher than most beer and it's generally not bubbly. For example. So if someone wants to call this "persimmon beer," well, they don't need my permission.

For generations of Black families across the American South in the 18th and 19th centuries, persimmon beer played an integral role in daily life. In his quest to uncover more about the foodways of his ancestors, Twitty learned that American persimmon trees are a genetic echo of fruit trees in West Africa, and that both the plant and the beverage provide a thread across the history and geography of the African diaspora.

Now, that is interesting. Of course, humans also all have genetic roots in Africa, just some more recent than others.

Persimmon beer was really important for the people working in the fields. That was a typical thing to be brought to them in a gourd or a bottle or a crock. Remember, they didn’t have Gatorade.

I can't imagine Gatorade would have been better. Or permitted.

Some of these foraged foods that are the grandeur of younger white folks that are into this now, quite frankly, this is not white people food. One of the best quotes I’ve ever seen in reference to pawpaws was “The food fit for Negros and Indians.”

We had pawpaw trees too, growing wild.

The article delves into some cultural issues that I think are relevant. It does not, however, provide an actual method for preparing persimmon beer -- but the mere fact of its existence should be enough, and probably it's in the book the guy is trying to promote.