Pawpaw Cream Pie

After going a few years without pawpaws, I just couldn’t take it anymore. This year, the fruit seemed to be more popular than ever, showing up in more recipes, photos, and food discussions. Despite the abundance of this fruit, some foragers debated sharing their locations while others begged for a hot tip.

I’ve never had a hard time finding pawpaws, to be honest, but this frenzy intimidated me. Besides, I think that farmed cultivars just taste better.

So I took an early morning bus ride to the Baltimore Farmers’ Market, where Two Boots Farm sells some of the only farmed pawpaws around.

Although my “home market” is the one in Waverly, as soon as the weather starts changing, I find myself tempted by the downtown market under the JFX, where the echoes of voices and music blend with the overhead cars on the highway. When leafy salad greens give way to collards and cabbage, and corn to sweet potatoes and pumpkins, the Baltimore Farmers Market feels special. The summer crowds start to wane and its a little easier to navigate the loop.

The smells of smoked meats and cinnamon doughnuts greet you as you browse.

After acquiring my pawpaws, I waited in line for coffee. Already, the familiar scent of the pawpaw was wafting out of my bag, threatening to over-ripen as only tropical fruits can do.

I think that a coconut layer cake with pawpaw filling would be pretty good, but that’s for another year. I made my trusty old pawpaw cream pie. Leaving nothing to chance, I stirred the custard with cornstarch, egg yolks and gelatin. Pawpaw seeds slid from my fingers as I tried my best to scrape the pulpy flesh into my pie crust. Although I didn’t have much fruit, the smell permeated my kitchen, and I knew that it would be more than enough to infuse my pie filling with it’s unique flavor.

Now that I’ve become reacquainted with my old friend the pawpaw, I find myself wanting more. Another crisp Sunday morning downtown may be in order. Failing that, I might just recommit. I don’t think I should let another year go by without tasting the magical flesh of our largest native fruit.

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Persimmon Pudding, Mrs. Isabel Atkinson Lieber

I have only three persimmon recipes in my database. One is Michael Twitty‘s recipe for Red Straw Persimmon Beer. The other two are for pudding. For practical reasons, I chose one of the latter. (I also used Japanese persimmons from Hungry Harvest.)

My recipe was contributed to “Queen Anne Goes to the Kitchen,” by Isabel Atkinson Lieber(1904-1974). The wife of Major General Albert Carl Lieber, Isabel traveled around a good bit in her lifetime. But she was born in Chestertown and she and her husband are buried at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Kent County.

I remember the first time I tasted persimmons. The fruit grew wild on a tree beside the phone company building where my aunt worked. We got a stepstool and some baskets and gathered some one fall.

Always entranced by wild ingredients, I was excited by the knowledge that Native Americans had used these fruits for food and medicine. I bit into the raw fruit and was rebuffed with a horrible astringent sourness that dried my mouth and squished up my face. I didn’t know then that persimmons, valuable though they are, need coaxing to make them palatable and edible. Some people freeze and thaw them to emulate the natural process that ripens the fruit.

One of the most commonly grown fruit trees on earth, according to wikipedia, the majority of persimmons are grown in China, where they make their way into doughnuts, sweet soups, cakes and cookies. According to “the Beijinger” blog, “orange persimmons are a sure sign that fall has arrived in Beijing.” Like the Native Americans, different Asian cultures have long used persimmons for both food and medicine – not necessarily discrete categories for many people around the world.

Persimmon trees are a member of the same family of trees as Ebony, which grows in East Africa and has been used for fruit and, more famously, wood. In West Africa, the local persimmon fruit is known as jackalberry due to its popularity with wild animals, who compete with humans for the ripe fruit.

Michael Twitty has written a great deal about persimmons, which he gathered with his father, and lovingly calls “‘simmons.” The Wolof people of West Africa used the name “alom” for the fruit, which they use for medicine, food, and beverages. Wolof people were among the ethnic groups of people who were kidnapped and enslaved in the United States. In America, they recognized the wild persimmon trees as something familiar. This connection allowed the enslaved not just a reminder of home, but an element of independence. In “Fighting Old Nep: Foodways of Enslaved Afro-Marylanders, 1634-1864,” Twitty wrote:

“When the “simmons,” (persimmons) were ripe and the frost and light snow had descended on the land the possums were considered to be at their fattest and most delicious. Typically they were caught with dogs, kept alive a week or two and fed cornbread and persimmons until it the cook felt that they were “cleaned out.” (Possums eat carrion in addition to fruits and nuts.)”

Twitty shared his family recipe for persimmon beer, describing its deep traditions and remarking that “it’s possible that the recipe that I cherish was brought from one of the many communities in West and Central Africa that harvest this tree every year, much as generations of enslaved Africans and African Americans did in America from the 17th century onward!”

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Chicken in Cucumber Sauce, Ann Grieves

Ann Grieves was already known for her cooking by the time her recipe appeared in “Private Collection: A Culinary Treasure,” published by the Women’s Committee of the Walter’s Art Gallery.

The beautiful hardbound cookbook generated some press, and has enjoyed a relatively decent amount of longevity on Maryland bookshelves, if not Maryland kitchens. With an introduction by James Beard, and over fifty illustrations from the Walters’ collections (including eight color plates), the fundraising cookbook has become a cherished item for many, even with used copies available inexpensively.

“A small group from the Women’s Committee poured over more than a thousand recipes before deciding on a collection which they believe reflects the lifestyle of Marylanders,” write Martha H. Schoeps in the Baltimore Sun in 1973.

Nearly ten years later, in 1981, the Sun quoted Harborplace bookseller Arlene Gillis saying that “Private Collection,” was a bestseller at her store “Books for Cooks,” along with the 1963 Hammond-Harwood House fundraiser “Maryland’s Way.”

A few months before “Private Collection” was published, in July of 1973, the Sun ran a feature on a group called the “Clean Plate Club.”

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