Every couple of weeks, I catch the number 8 bus (standing in, yet again, for the number 8 tram) to meet my friend Alice and go to a market in Monteverde. Slower than the tram, the bus isn’t a bad ride, curving up the ring road lined with 20th-century apartment blocks in edible colours: lemon, toffee, olive, custard, salmon, milk chocolate, cream, Smurf ice-cream blue … Conveniently, the bus stops right next to the market, which is known by the name of the square it fills: San Giovanni di Dio. There are big plans to redesign it completely, but for now this busy market remains a Tetris-like arrangement of iron boxes – a scheme rolled out in the late 1950s as part of Rome’s preparation for the 1960 Olympics, in which previously open markets were tidied up and vendors allocated boxes with rolling shutters that provided both storage and a stall.
There must be 75 stalls of all sorts, but those run by smaller producers who sell their fruit and vegetables are particularly good. Especially at this time of year, when, like markets all over the northern hemisphere, they are piled with good-value greens and cabbages (and their miniature sprout cousins), celeriac, chicory, celery, beetroot and broccoli, squashes, mushrooms, chestnuts, apples, pears and glowing persimmons, which in Italy (the fourth largest producer after China, Japan and Brazil) take the Japanese name kaki (柿).
Like the tomato, the persimmon is a berry in the botanical sense. In his wonderful writing, Sadahiro Hamasaki, research fellow at the Nara Prefectural Agricultural Research and Development Centre, explains that kaki’s ancestors emerged in south-east Asia tens of millions of years ago, evolved further in China, before making their way to Japan about 1,400 years ago. Hamasaki goes on to note that there are more than 1,000 different varieties of kaki in Japan and globally, about 60% of which are considered “astringent” and unpalatable if eaten before they have completely softened; these varieties are often sold dried. The other 40% are non-astringent and may be consumed both when firm and very soft – so soft, in fact, that some ripe varieties resemble glowing and extremely fragile water balloons filled with incredibly sweet persimmon puree. Kaki are therefore hardly the easiest fruit to transport, which is why they are often picked early and ripened in storage.
Michelangelo, who runs the fruit stall at San Giovanni di Dio market, dares to transport a few tree-ripened kaki to the market, with groups of three protected in polythene cups. I was less successful in transporting them home, with the result looking quite murderous. Thankfully, however, as well as being cabbage, apple and persimmon season, it is also crumble season. For crumble, I mix three of my favourite cookery writers – Delia Smith, Margaret Costa and Nigella Lawson – and make a topping from a mix of flours, oats, soft brown sugar, butter and nuts, and use a combination of fruit: apples, pears and, if you can find them, persimmons, which collapse even more into a jam-like puree around the not-quite-collapsed other fruit.
Puddings such as this need custard or cream, or both, so there’s cream or white over toffee-coloured crumble over opaque and orange fruit.
Apple, pear and persimmon crumble
Serves 6
120g cold butter, plus extra for greasing and dotting
2 apples
2 pears
2 ripe persimmons
1 tbsp soft brown sugar
Nutmeg
150g plain or wholemeal flour, or a mix of the two
A pinch of salt
75g soft brown sugar
50g oats
50g mixed nuts, finely chopped
Choose a suitable dish and rub it generously with butter. Peel, core and quarter the apples and pears, then cut into chunky slices and drop directly into the greased dish. Slice the persimmons into the dish, too, and don’t be concerned if they collapse; in fact, collapsing is great. Sprinkle the sugar and a little grated nutmeg over the top, and toss gently to combine.
In a bowl or food processor, rub or pulse the butter into the flour, until it resembles soft, fat breadcrumbs. Add the sugar, oats and finely chopped mixed nuts, then share the crumble over the fruit.
Dot with butter, then bake at 180C (160C fan)/350F/gas 4 for 45 minutes, until the crust has taken on a bit of colour and the fruit is bubbling up at the edges.
