1000 pizza doughs: Persimmons and ... Pantyhose?

Since I no longer have weekly CSA baskets to broaden my culinary horizons, I seem to be picking things up at the grocery store that I have high hopes for. (Translation: I have no idea what to do with them, but I buy them anyway.) This week: persimmons.

A little history first. My grandmother made the best persimmon pudding ever, from a wild persimmon tree growing near her house in North Carolina. As far as I can tell, she never had a written recipe for anything. Ever. So, of course I have tried to duplicate her recipe, with horrific varying results.

So, I saw these beauties in the store and decided they would be mine.

They were labeled Hayicha persimmons, and were really orange and sort of squishy. Then I debated what to do with them for several days until they were really squishy. (The last time I attempted this, the persimmons were from Costco, were yellow and hard as rocks -- it did not go well.)

Here's what they look like inside:

Let's go back to history for a moment. Last time I tried this, with the hard-as-rocks yellow persimmons, I called my mother for advice. She has made a persimmon pudding or two in her day. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Hi Mom. How do you make persimmon pulp?"

Mom: "Well, we always used the pantyhose method."

Me:

Mom: "Are you still there?"

Me: "The WHAT method?"

Mom: "Well, we always squeezed them through some pantyhose."

<Tangent warning> A proper Southern lady NEVER went to church sans pantyhose where I grew up, even if it was hot enough to rain brimstone. Plus, there were lots of hosiery mills in the area, with free samples/seconds (this was before NAFTA, of course, but that's a whole 'nother tangent). So one always had a supply of never-used hosiery on hand. I briefly considered my "delicates" drawer and decided that no, I am NOT willing to sacrifice the closest thing I own to pantyhose--Vera Wang opaque tights--even for culinary research purposes. Even if they ARE from Kohls. (And thank God for business casual. Amen.) </end tangent>

Ahem. So, I peeled the persimmons with a vegetable peeler, and threw them in the food processor, seeds and all. (What's a little extra fiber, right?). Then I strained them (with a stainless steel strainer thankyouverymuch) into a measuring cup, like so:

Then I proceeded to make this recipe I found courtesy of one of my amazingly informative Twitter friends (sorry, forgot to make a note who!). I love how it is hand-written.

I also love how it comes with no complicated instructions. Just mix everything together and throw it in the oven. Before baking, it was a pleasant peach color.

About 5 minutes after I put it in the oven, I was cleaning up and went to put the milk away, when it occurred to me that I actually forgot to add it. Doh! Another 35 minutes or so, and...

Basically, a persimmon spice cake. Not moist, nor remotely like my grandma's (way too cake-like), although the color is close. This would be good with a cinnamon cream cheese frosting though.

So, I am still on the quest for the perfect persimmon pudding. The next step: try this exact recipe WITH the milk. :)