 PERSIMMON PUDDING
Persimmons are said to have energies of happiness and joy. 2 cups persimmon pulp
3 eggs, beaten
1 3/4 cup milk
2 cups self-rising flour
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 tbsp. melted butter
1/2 cup coconut
Preheat oven to 300º.
In a bowl, blend pulp and eggs, alternately adding milk and dry ingredients.
Stir in butter and coconut, mix well.
Pour into greased and floured baking pan about 2" deep.
Bake 1 hour at 300º.
Recipe Courtesy Kimberly & Doris Huffman | Changes in season, changes in the weather are always changes in me. The Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn Solstice are sacrosanct in our home - they are synonymous with growth, progression, and shedding old skin as my children age, as I understand life a little bit better with each day passing, as my relationships grow deeper with time like roots reaching further underground. Autumn is more than a time to wear comfy sweaters and light my ceremonial candles. Autumn allows me to enjoy nature by virtue of cooler afternoons. Autumn provides me the opportunity to bake the goods of the harvest; persimmon pudding, wheat bread, and spice cakes that scent the house with cinnamon, clove, orange and nutmeg. Finally, Autumn means braised short ribs and roasted root vegetables gobbled up during raucous televised ball games. I love this time of year. Every culture I can think of has seasonal celebrations. Solstice rituals to give thanks for a fertile Earth, Equinox traditions in hopes of a plentiful harvest. These ignite a feeling of global unity in me, knowing there is a mother oceans away from me at her hearth, who rejoices in creating traditional food or ornamentation for her community's annual Autumn celebration. We're not |
so different, really, her and I, me and you. The world over, we all want the same things – health and happiness for the ones we love, constancy within the seasonal changes. When we see the trees begin to change and wrap our children up in warmer clothing, we’re adapting as Mother Nature reinvents herself. I like to do some reinventing, too, and it usually unfolds in my kitchen. The most popular harvest celebration (at least for my children) is All Hallow's Eve - or Halloween. It is believed to have started in Ireland under the name Samhain, which translates to "Summers End." The meaning behind the merriment goes deeper than candy corn and haunted houses, though. Halloween is a time to honor the dead and celebrate the harvest, and the seasonal festivities are hundreds, maybe thousands, years old. The Celts of Ireland and later, Great Britain left wine and food out for souls who returned to the physical world from the spirit world for this one holy night of the year. Children would go from home to home gathering sweets for the celebration, bonfires were lit and candles were carried to keep malevolent spirits and evil fairies away (there are evil fairies?). When British and Irish immigrants came to America these sacred traditions came with them. What do I love more than envisioning my Welsh ancestors dancing around a fire with flowers in their hair on Samhain, children giggling with each sweet treat into which they indulge? Dressing up on Halloween, putting flowers in my hair, and burning candles as my children delight in their (plastic) pumpkins carrying their many sweet treats. That evokes a feeling of ancestral unity in me. When something is harvested, it means it's grown enough to be gathered, or reaped. When something is harvested, it has reached its potential, but left its seeds for renewal. When something is harvested, often there are roots left that will grow again when conditions are right. Good crops carry on. People learn how to live on them, by gratitude, by traditions passed on, because survival is dependent upon nurture. And food. |
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