In the summer morning, the dancing rays of the sun sparkled on the canopy of leaves after the rain shower last night. This season, the flowers are blooming brightly and the fruits are blooming together. In the stream of people going up and down, I suddenly saw a load of street vendors full of persimmons slowly passing by. Ah, so it’s the ripe persimmon season again.
I live in Hanoi, so I rarely have the opportunity to see the rosemary. Every time the persimmon season is ripe, street vendors full of small and beautiful fruits crept to each small street. My mother used to buy red envelopes from an elderly hawker who passed by the door. When he unloaded the goods, we children swarmed in, admiring the oblong, golden persimmons. In the bunch of persimmons, a few ripe brown berries, my mother called the “soot” fruit. Peel off the rough brown skin, white flesh is exposed, we slowly enjoy.
Illustration Perhaps, persimmon is a fruit that brings mixed emotions. Just tasting one fruit, I feel like I can see the taste of summer and earth suddenly coming. A little bit of spicy mixed with a bit of mild sourness and left behind is a light, numbing sweetness on the tip of the tongue. The most special is the scent of ripe persimmon. When the burden of persimmons passes on the street, it must be very clear to be able to recognize the sweet, slightly pungent fragrance carried in the wind. Red envelopes are not only a gift for our children, but also used by mothers to treat diseases. Every time it was the season of persimmon, my mother carefully separated the seeds, took the peel to dry it, and used it as a dewormer for my brothers and sisters. Once, my brother caught a cold in the rain, so he coughed a lot, my mother bought some yellow rosemary, washed and steamed it with rock sugar for him to eat. Miraculously, my brother stopped coughing immediately. When the persimmons are ripe, my mother often soaks sugar in syrup to drink. The purchased persimmons are washed with boiled water to cool and then left open. When the water was drained, my mother instructed me to use scissors to cut the stalk. My mother often told me that you shouldn’t use your hands to pick it up because it will break the persimmon fruit. The glass vase was washed and dried. My mother sprinkled persimmons in the jar, and covered it with rock sugar. Then, she tied the mouth of the jar to a cool place. When the rock sugar layer dissolves, it can be used as a yellowish water. At noon in the summer, make a glass of sweet and cool persimmon water, we slowly enjoy. Oh my, the characteristic scent of persimmons rushes to the nose, spicy but not too harsh like lemon peel, orange peel. Next is the sour, sweet and cool taste that permeates the taste buds. Interestingly, when using this beverage, we can leisurely watch and enjoy pieces of brown persimmon in a glass of golden water. Because the persimmon season suddenly comes and goes, clever housewives often make jam to save. I still remember, the years I went to school away from home, me and my friends were so happy, competing for breath, cherishing the jam that my mother sent me. We shared each piece of chewy, chewy sugar-matched jam that we missed our homeland dearly. Another season of persimmons has returned. Persimmon fruit evokes nostalgia for children far from home with fond memories. The taste of red skin awakens someone’s beautiful memories of a carefree childhood gift. And… Hanoi streets are full of evocative and evocative burdens of persimmons.