Fuyu Persimmon with Sesame Cream

Kaki to Nerigoma Kurīmu・柿と練り胡麻のクリーム

As autumn deepens and the first frosts arrive, the persimmon tree offers its final gift before winter's rest. The fuyu persimmon hangs like a small lantern, glowing orange against bare branches A moment of brilliance before everything goes dormant.

This recipe for Fuyu Persimmon with Sesame Cream honors the Japanese principle of kisetsukan (季節感), living in harmony with the natural rhythm and cycle of the seasons. The fuyu persimmon appears precisely when our bodies need its nourishment most: as temperatures drop and daylight shortens, this fruit delivers immune-supporting vitamin C, eye-protecting vitamin A, and warming natural sugars that sustain us through colder months.

This dessert requires little effort: slice the persimmon mindfully, prepare the cream with attention, arrange with care. Yet in its simplicity lies depth. Each slice reveals the fruit's black-brown speckled flesh, its geometry an invitation to notice what we often consume without seeing.

When you set the plate down and prepare to eat this dish, pause. Notice the color of the fine threads of the skin garnishing the top—that impossible orange that exists nowhere else in nature. Observe how the lightly toasted sesame cream pools beside the dark flesh of the fruit, yin and yang in edible form. Then, with gratitude for the tree that bore this fruit and the hands that tended it, receive it: itadakimasu.

Kuroama Fuyu Persimmon from Wakayama

Unlike the astringent hachiya variety, fuyu persimmons are eaten firm and crisp, their texture reminiscent of apple yet more delicate. The sweetness is gentle, almost honeyed, with subtle notes of apricot and date. Paired with rich sesame cream—goma (胡麻), a cornerstone of temple cuisine—the dish achieves chōwa (調和), a harmonious balance, via an unusual pairing.

The type of persimmon that I am using is exclusive to Wakayama prefecture in Western Japan cultivated for sweetness. It's name, kuroama, refers to the speckled appearance of the flesh, which looks similar to black flax or black sesame. I found out the last bit after I had already created the dish. I wish I could say it was intentional, but it was simply happenstance.

The Sacred Role of Sesame in Temple Cuisine

Goma (胡麻, sesame) holds a place of profound importance in Buddhist temple kitchens, where it has been ground into paste and toasted into oil for almost a millennium. The labor of grinding sesame seeds in a suribachi (擂り鉢, grooved mortar) is itself a meditation, requiring patience and presence as the seeds slowly release their oil and transform into smooth paste.

Sesame arrived in Japan from China over 1,300 years ago and quickly became essential to shōjin ryōri, particularly in Zen temple cuisine. Its rich, nutty flavor provides umami depth without animal products, while its creamy texture—when finely ground—offers satisfaction that makes simpler, plant-based meals feel complete.

From a nutritional perspective, sesame is remarkable: these tiny seeds contain more calcium per gram than milk, provide heart-healthy monounsaturated fats, and deliver significant amounts of iron, magnesium, and B vitamins. The lignans in sesame (particularly sesamin and sesamolin) have been studied for their antioxidant properties and potential to support liver health.