a little light
/My mother said every persimmon has a sun
inside, something golden, glowing,
warm as my face.
The long and winding pandemic, dragging itself through the hills and valleys of another life saving/life ruining/lifeless lockdown. Gratitude at how light falls on a paper tissue flower one of my children made on a half hearted crafty zoom. The way the sand can suck the stress right out of you if you’re barefoot on the beach. A murmuration of pigeons as I drive to the shops in the low, late afternoon sun. I’ve never felt grateful for a pigeon before. And is that the point? Keep coming back to the gratitude, don’t let it go. We are forced to exist in these little moments, the past has been obliterated and the future is scarcely worth planning for. So savour the way my dog sleeps on her back, dreaming of squirrels. The dance of a prism rainbow on a wall. Friendships. Health. The sun rising each day. But sometimes, often times, I’m tired of relying on these little nuggets of gold. I long for the tacky thrill of a day at Disneyland. The luxury of a planned holiday with friends. The inside of a cinema, sticky with someone else’s spilled soda. A long, uncomfortable plane journey somewhere new. A crowded, too-loud bar. A sweaty, smoky house party. Who knew that we were living the dream all those years?
We are trying to keep upbeat. Christmas has been on hold as we feverishly try and track down the children’s passports, lost in the post by this incompetent government. Will we get to fly back to London? Will museums be open? Can I finally have someone else cut my hair? Meet my new niece? It’s been a year since we have seen any UK family or friends at all. So strange, this year of lost things. Dreams, hopes, jobs and lives. My children are so much bigger, they’re scarcely children at all. I’ve watched them grow more than ever, day in and day out as they valiantly stare at their school screens, but their sudden hugeness has somehow taken me by surprise. My face has many new wrinkles, unearned.
Whilst we wait on the sidelines for what’s left of normality to spring back into existence, we are doing our best to elevate the monotony of our Groundhog Days with the odd magic breakfast, our speciality. I whipped up this recipe for my friends at Midland, a shop where I am guaranteed to want every item. Especially this… and this…. And also this… It’s a hymn to gratitude and the relentless bounty & beauty of nature that has helped us schlep through these uncertain days. And also a way to jazz up another weekend morning en famille. Hope it helps to lift you too. The way the sun hits the neon amber glow of a shiny persimmon skin might be enough.
Golden Persimmon Waffles
Persimmons are irresistible to buy because they're so beautiful and so utterly seasonal, like something from an opulent Victorian feast. Find a good excuse to have a few lying around looking sexy in your kitchen in this warm, autumnal breakfast. There are two varieties of persimmon, and for this recipe you'll need the Hachiya persimmon, which is the larger, heart-shaped and deeper orange variety. When ripe they're darkest orange-red and squashy like a very ripe tomato, and for this recipe they need to be at their ripest. This recipe is gluten free and can be grain-free depending on your choice of milk.
makes 12 big waffles
2 cups milk of your choice
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp turmeric
pinch black pepper
3/4 cup almond flour
2/3 cup potato starch
2/3 cup coconut flour
3/4 cup tapioca starch/flour
2 tsp baking powder
pinch salt
4 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup ripest Hachiya persimmon pulp - approx 1.5 persimmons
Prepare your golden milk by warming the milk and spices until hot but not boiling, and then set aside to cool. Whilst it cools, measure all remaining dry ingredients into a mixing bowl and whisk until well combined.
Once the milk has cooled down to room temperature, whisk in the eggs and vanilla. Slice your persimmon in half and scoop out the flesh with a spoon, discarding the skin and pith. Either mash or blend the pulp in a food processor until smooth. Add the milk mixture to the dry ingredients and whisk together until there are no lumps. Fold in the persimmon and stir well. Pour into a hot waffle iron greased with a little coconut oil and cook until deep golden brown. Serve warm and topped with melty butter, sliced ripe persimmon, berries and maple syrup, or cream if you're feeling decadent.
