Welcome to Brainstuff, a production of iHeartRadio, Hey brain Stuff, Lauren Vogelbaum. Here, we've all been handed our fair share of lemons lately. So enough already with the lemonade. As time sprawls on with ongoing challenges and unhold potential, why not grab it by its stem, ties, string around it, and give another of life's astringent fruits a shot at proverb status. When life hands you per simmons, make hushigaki. A hushigaki is a type of dried per simon, Originally
a method of preserving the fall harvest for winter. Hushigaki are a century's old Japanese delicacy that's easy to make but is remarkably time and effort intensive. The week's long process happens slowly, requiring patience, mindfulness, and almost microscopic attention to detail, and a near daily practice of gently and
slowly massaging each percimon by hand. There are many species and varieties of persimmons, though they tend to be about the size and shape of a tomato, either squatly round or more oval and sort of pointed, and are golden to red to brown in color when they're mature. The fruits are sweet and taste sort of rich, like squash, with a little bit of fruity spice to them. You can categorize persimmons into two main categories, a stringent and non astringent. A stringency is the quality of things that
make you pucker. They taste drying and sort of bitter. Non estringent per simon varieties like fuyu and gito can be eaten fresh out of hand like an apple, or peeled and sliced into any dish that you'd like peeled sliced fruit in, either while they're still crisp or when they're a little riper and thus softer and sweeter. They're also dried in slices like apples or mangoes. These stringent varieties, like one called hachia, have to be uber ripe to
be eaten fresh. They're essentially so puckery that they're inedible until they're jelly on the inside, at which point you scoop out that jelly and eat it straight or incorporate it into desserts like puddings. You can take unripe hachia and freeze them or blend them up and then incorporate them into foods or drinks, probably with some sugar, but the most famous way to make them palatable is by
making hushigaki. Hushagaki are made from ferm hachia with just the right tat of softness and preferably a longish stem still attached. Anybody can hypothetically make them. There's no one exact right way, and people have lots of different tips and techniques, and outcomes vary with the maker and the year and the individual fruit. All you need is a knife, some string, and hatchia per simmons, which in the US can be found at many Asian groceries, California Farmer's Market,
and some supermarkets. You first peel the skin off each hattia with a knife, leaving a little bit of skin around the stem, and tie length of string around each stem four persimons. Without a stem, you can sterilize a stainless steel screw, screw it through the top into the core and attach your string to that screw. Next, sterilize each percimon by dipping it in boiling water for just a couple seconds. Some makers will do a quick dunk
in vodka or brandy instead. You hang the persimons indoors someplace warm and dry with good air circulation, like in a sunny window, and leave them undisturbed for a week to air dry. After a week, using a very gentle touch, never squeeze, You press each persimon ever so gingerly once a day, working your way up to a very light daily massage. This soft coddling helps break down the pulp and smooths the outside of the fruit, where wrinkles could
entrap moisture and harbor mold. It also forces out internal air pockets and lets the natural sugars inside rise to the surface of the fruit, where they eventually form a white, powdery bloom, a sort of crust that looks like powdered sugar. Over several weeks anywhere from as few as three weeks to a few months, the fruit will soften and shrivel, forming a craggy exterior with deep grooves in the folded skin.
At the end of the process, you gently roll the hushigaki with a rolling pin to achieve even thickness and get rid of any remaining air bubbles and VOILA a time to test the literal fruits of your labor. If all goes well, your hushigaki should be amber colored and firm, but pliable, almost gummylike in texture, sort of like a whole fruit petato fruit. The drying process brings out flavors
of honey and caramel and warm fall spices. They can be stored in an airtight container and shared with your most appreciative friends, or say, at your ledger, for up to a year or more. Because of their labor intensive creation process, pushikaki are expensive for a dried fruit. They tend to run about five bucks apiece if you're buying them instead of massaging them yourself. In Japanese tradition, they're often given as gifts at New Year's or other winter holidays.
Pushadaki are often savored in small slices as a snack alongside tea or incorporated into New Year's themed dishes, and they're a lovely treat on a cheese or charcuterie plate. You can find them online if you don't happen to have any markets that carry them in your area. Today's episode is based on the article when life pansy persimmons make Koshigaki on how stuffworks dot com, written by Kerry Tatro. Brain Stuff is production of iHeartRadio in partnership with how
Stuffworks dot Com and is produced by Tyler Klang. Four more podcasts my heart Radio, visit the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows.