I’d heard of
persimmons for many years, but I never had the chance to try them until I was
in rural Wysox, Pennsylvania ,
of all places, in the same grocery (Tops) where I first had cherimoya (see November 15, 2014 post). Each individual one is about the
size of a large apple, and they have smooth skins which are a
yellowish/reddish/orange color. As with
tomatoes, whose skin is similar in look and feel to the persimmon, these fruits
are technically berries, although most folks don’t categorize them in that
way. Persimmons are native to much of
Asia, Southwest Europe, and the U.S. The name I’m using for them is derived from a
Native American word for “dry fruit.”
Persimmons are
known for their astringent flavor. Even
the more mild varieties are considered to be a little harsh tasting when
they’re unripe. Having learned this, I
dutifully aged my persimmon for a few days.
When properly ripe they’re supposed to be quite soft, and are often
eaten with a spoon after being cut open, like a natural pudding. Alas, either I didn’t age mine enough, or
else I’m just not into persimmons period.
It was juicy, but the flavor was weird.
A friend found it chalky, and I agreed.
It was sweetish, but not that great.
In short, I’m not tempted to try it again, even if I was more careful to
age it the right amount of time. They
are, as I recall, not too expensive, though—I think mine was about $2 or so.
There is,
however, one interesting aspect of the persimmon—what it does in the
stomach. It’s packed with a tannin
called shibuol that reacts oddly to stomach acids, and can coagulate into a
gluey mass. This mass, called a
diospyrobezoar, which is a type of phytobezoar, can grow until it causes pain,
nausea, vomiting, gastric obstruction, and even perforation. Treatments include ingestion of meat
tenderizer, or Coca-Cola, to dissolve the mass, or the use of lasers to break
it up. In extreme cases surgery may even
be necessary.
Bezoars, which
are the umbrella term for all types of trapped masses in the gastrointestinal
system, have a funny history. People
used to think that they had magical properties—the most common idea being that
they protected a person against poisons.
Evidently they can provide some protection against arsenic, but not
completely, and they’re useless against other poisons. Before this was proven scientifically,
though, people used to pay large sums for disgusting growths from peoples’, or
animals’ stomachs and digestive tracts (and some may still do). Just to add more info, phytobezoars are composed of undigested plant parts, like seeds, skin, fibers, etc. Other types of bezoars are caused by undigested milk, drug tablets, soil, gum, and even hair.
I was also
strangely amused to see that Coca-Cola was of medical use in dissolving the
diospyrobezoars. I only saw Coke
mentioned, and not other sodas, or even other cola flavored beverages, like
Pepsi, RC, etc. Why is Coke so special? I’d like to find out. But I’d love to see Coke use that attribute
as a ridiculously specific, rare ad slogan.
Something like, “Have a Coke and a smile, because you know your painful
and repulsive stomach growths are getting smaller!”
But, now that I
may have scared you off of persimmons, with all the talk about awful stomach
“pearls,” you should know that getting them is rare. Basically, unless you eat them daily,
especially unripe ones (which have more of the tannin), you’ll probably be
fine. Although it is recommended that
you don’t eat persimmons on an empty stomach, to save you some possible mild
upset.
Given my disdain
for this fruit, now I’m very confident that my tombstone won’t contain the
line, “Died when his diospyrobezoar burst through this stomach, reminding
onlookers of that infamous scene from ‘Alien.’”
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