Monday, February 08, 2010

We're going to eat a lot of persimmon pudding

I've been derelict, not cooking at all, serving everyone grilled cheese sandwiches and pancakes. The last week has been nutty  -- in good ways! Chief among the positive developments: My mother came home from the hospital, is eating with gusto and feeling better than she has since September. The new chemo is doing its job. Cancer will shock you when it goes on a mad rampage, but it can shock you every bit as much when it suddenly turns tail. The last few days have been disorienting in that regard, but we're not complaining.

Garden update: 

Back in December, I ordered a bunch of bare-root trees and they finally arrived. Yesterday, we planted. I went overboard with my order, but especially in the persimmon department: fuyu, chocolate, and hachiya. What is wrong with me? They are very beautiful when fruiting in the fall (see aspirational photo at top), but we struggled to find places for those three trees. If even just one survives, we are going to be drowning in persimmons.

Which is a truly nightmarish image. 

This is how a young persimmon tree looks in February:
Can you even see it? The tall stick in the foreground.
We also planted four fig trees along the street outside the fence, since deer do not eat fig leaves. We can never have too many figs. And we put in some (more) raspberries, grapes, blueberries, and two columnar apple trees, which are wonderful because you can plant them in tight spaces. They grow straight up like . . . columns. This is what the Scarlet Spire columnar apple tree looks like as of 5 minutes ago:
An asparagus.

After the big morning in the yard, my husband threw an all-boys Super Bowl party and I went to the movies to escape the shouting and potato chips. I didn't love watching Jeff Bridges throw up, but otherwise really enjoyed Crazy Heart.

(I should say, I have a horror of watching people throw up, even in movies. Maybe especially in movies, because you can't leave the room. Others will probably not be similarly offended.)


  1. Oh, no, I have that extreme fear of seeing people throw up in movies and on TV, too, and it is so pervasive. Seriously, Hollywood, move on. I have to cover my ears and hum and shut my eyes when I sense it, and my husband tells me when it's OK to look again. Thanks for the Crazy Heart warning.

  2. Oh, the constant growing season that is San Francisco. How I envy you with your persimmons and figs.

  3. Thrilled with the update on your mom.
    With you completely on the throwing up avoidance.
    I'm not sure I've ever enjoyed anything persimmon but oh, I would love a fig tree.

  4. Yeah, it's like 10 years ago, Hollywood got some kind of realistic-vomiting app for its moviemaking devices and decided it was vital to raw, emotionally charged movies. It's gross.
    I mean that Monty Python scene was sort of funny, and the Ace Ventura scene, but all the serious ones...blecch.

  5. I'm just fascinated by the sight of dirt. I'd have to dig through 20 inches of snow to find some. I've forgotten what grass looks like.

    Glad your mother is better!

  6. I want warn you that there may be a serial hurler in your very town. This very morning I saw a man walking along the street suddenly turn and vomit copiously before reuming his stroll as if nothing had happened.
    I suggest that you cut those trees (except for the columners)to 18 inches so the will be nice and low for picking and pruning.

  7. Goose -- GROSS. I wish I'd never brought it up.

  8. The persimmons sound fabulous but watch those fig trees. We had one and it grew like a weed! It took quite a bit of trimming!

  9. Hubby and I have a running joke about not visiting Grandma during persimmon season. (Who can really digest 2 grocery bags full of persimmons?) We actually like persimmons, but prefer the crunchy ones. Grandma grows the soft ones that turn your mouth inside out if eaten in a slightly unripened state.

  10. Azure Song -- I know. This was crazy. I do have a good recipe for persimmon ice cream, but that uses about 6 persimmons and is the kind of thing you want once a year.
    Andraste -- It is my dream that the fig trees grow like weeds!