“Extreme fear can neither fight nor fly.”

—Shakespeare

Long ago, nestled amongst tall mountains draped in dense forests, there was a small, quiet village in Korea.
There lived a fearsome tiger who frequently stalked the stands of trees at the edge of the village clearing. He was a giant of the dark woods, heavily muscled but sleek and silent while sneaking about in the night.

One evening, his stomach growled, loudly. He realized it was time to go out and find a meal.
However, he was feeling lazy, and did not want to chase down some doe-eyed deer. Rather, he plodded down towards the village, having decided to pluck a sweet baby from their crib for his dinner.

He heard a baby’s piercing cry from one of the homes, and headed straight there.

Just before he could leap over the windowsill, he heard the mother pleading with her baby inside.
He paused, cocking one ear, and listened.

“Shhh, nae saekki. If you keep crying so loudly, a giant bear will jump out of the night and gobble you up.”
The tiger, thinking of his sometimes-friend and sometimes-enemy, the bear, thought it prudent for such a helpless, mewling babe to avoid her swiping claws and seemingly depthless hunger.
But the baby did not stop crying, barely even pausing to take a breath before continuing to screech. The tiger was surprised and a little impressed. This baby was brave and clearly not scared by the bear at all.

“If not a bear, then a great big cougar will find you and have you for a snack.”
The tiger was measuredly less sure of this threat, given how weak he felt the cougars around the town to be, and indeed, the baby kept up his tantrum. Evidently a cougar was not enough to calm him.

The mother, desperate, pressed on. “Hush now; you must stop crying because the formidable tiger is surely on his way to our doorstep.”
Now, chest puffed up, pride in his terror, the tiger was sure this baby would be quiet.
He was scarier than the bear and any cougar around. He was more feared, and deserved to be.
The tiger sat, breath bated, waiting for all sound to cease.
The baby bawled, and bawled. His cries became louder and more inconsolable, not scared by the threat of the tiger whatsoever.
The tiger deflated. This baby was not just brave, but stupid! Unafraid in the face of a monster like himself. How could such a little child be so courageous?
Angry, he decided this unfazed child would be dinner, after all.

Poised to attack, he was about to peer over the sill, when he heard the mother once more.
“Stop crying now, here comes a persimmon.”
The baby fell completely and utterly silent.

It was as if a lightning bolt had struck the tiger. He froze.
“Eommaya—!” he mused, “What monstrosity must this persimmon be, to strike fear in this baby’s heart and silence him when even I, scariest of them all, could not.”

In that instant, he decided he was not hungry enough to risk it all, and that he could go without dinner for the evening. He was too afraid to even peek again, for fear of gazing upon the terrifying persimmon.
He unstuck his giant paws, leaving great craters in the earth where he had been standing, and ran off into the dark, muttering all the while, “persimmon… persimmon… persimmon.”

Inside, under the gentle glow of a lamp, the baby happily gummed a sweet orange fruit while his omma relaxed into hard-won quietude.

This brown butter bourbon persimmon bundt cake is a perfect fall bake. It’s not too sweet, and it has a subtle flavor from the persimmons with a hint of cinnamon and lovely crunch from the walnuts.

I grew up eating persimmons every fall and winter—they’re one of my favorite fruits. Fuyu persimmons are my favorite, because you can eat them when they are crisp.
Hachiya persimmons contain high levels of  tannins, so they are incredibly astringent when underripe. You have to wait until they’re completely soft and pudding-like to eat them.
The good thing about that is that when they are ready to be eaten, they are basically already in purée form—easy to incorporate into baked goods! Hachiyas are very large, so 2 good sized ones will easily make 1 cup of purée.
Whatever is leftover can be used to make persimmon pancakes!

Brown Butter Bourbon Persimmon Bundt Cake
makes 1 6-cup bundt cake

ingredients:
for the cake:
150 grams (1 1/4 cup) AP flour
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
115 grams (1/2 cup, 8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, browned and cooled
100 grams (1/2 cup packed) brown sugar
75 grams (1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons) sugar
2 tablespoons bourbon
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 eggs
250 grams (1 cup) persimmon purée
60 grams (3/4 cup) chopped toasted walnuts

for the glaze:
30 grams (2 tablespoons) heavy cream
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon salt, to taste
120 grams (1 cup) powdered sugar, as needed

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and butter and flour a 6-cup bundt pan very well.
Whisk flour, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, and salt together.
Place butter and sugars in a separate bowl and whisk together well.
Add the bourbon and vanilla extract and whisk to combine.
Add the eggs one at a time, whisking very well between additions.
Add half of the dry mix and half of the persimmon purée and fold to combine.
Add the remainder of the dry mix and persimmon purée and fold until homogeneous.
Pour into prepared pan and bake for 45 minutes or until a tester comes out with only a few moist crumbs.
Allow to cool for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack.
Allow to cool completely.
Meanwhile, make the glaze: whisk the cream, salt, and 1/2 cup sifted powdered sugar together until combined.
Add in another 1/2 cup sifted powdered sugar until the glaze is thick but pourable.
Pour over cake and allow to drip over the contours.