The United States of Friendship

Taken from the Persimmon Pinterest Board

Persimmon Bread

Take 3½ cups sifted flour
1½ teaspoons salt
2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 to 2½ cups sugar
1 cup melted unsalted butter and cooled to room temperature
4 large eggs, at room temperature, lightly beaten
2/3 cup Cognac, bourbon or whiskey
2 cups persimmon puree (from about 4 squishy-soft Hachiya persimmons)
2 cups walnuts or pecans, toasted and chopped
2 cups raisins, or diced dried fruits (such as apricots, cranberries, or dates)
Step 1: Butter 2 loaf pans. Line the bottoms with a piece of parchment paper or dust with flour and tap out any excess.
Step 2: Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Step 3: Sift the first 5 dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl.
Step 4: Make a well in the center then stir in the butter, eggs, liquor, persimmon puree then the nuts and raisins.
Step 5: Bake 1 hour or until toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Step 6:  Serve with a scoop of good old fashioned friendship.

The United States of Friendship  - Part 1 - Krysia

I met Krysia when I was new in America.

Krysia and Teresa were my classmates at Goodwill’s Institute of Career Development.

Krysia was from Poland and Teresa was from the Philipines.

To me anything or anyone new or from far away was exotic.

So Krysia and Teresa were both exotic to me.

As exotic as persimmons, broccoli, asparagus and artichoke.

The only thing I knew about Poland before I met Krysia was the name Lech Walesa. 

When Krysia told me she was from Poland, I probably said “Oh - Lech Walesa” to her.

(You know how it is when you are younger. You think you have to show off about anything you know)

I don’t remember if Krysia said “Oh Rajneesh” back to me.

Or “Oh - Sai Baba”.

Or “Oh - Kama Sutra”.

Krysia and Teresa had both been in America longer than I had.

So they took me under their wing.

I learned where they shopped, where they ate.  (Rites of passage for Sisterhood).

I went to my first Ihop breakfast with them.

I went to my first Mary Kay party with them.

(A Mary Kay, Tupperware, Avon or Amway party is an initiation rite for every new American immigrant).

And they listened to my woes.

As we wolfed down our home-made sandwiches at the cafeteria, the sandwich sticking to the roof of my mouth because the bread was too soft and had become one with the cheese, I would go - “I have such a strong advertising copy background – why can’t these San Francisco ad agencies give me a break?”  Yackety. Yack Yack.

“Did you know in India, I owned my own business, my own creative shop?” Yackety. Yack. Yack.

Meanwhile, the list of things I could not do, and which were essential to survival in America, was long.

I could not drive.

I did not know Microsoft Word, Excel or Powerpoint.

I had poor dress sense (which you could get away with in a creative career and nowhere else).

And I had poor social skills.

I regularly interrupted people while they were talking.

“Excuse me.  Excuse me”, I would say.

2 years later, I learned it was the fastest way to make some people extremely angry.

I interrupted my boss when he was talking to his boss and he blew up.

Lost it.

Let me have it.

Complete with 4 letter expletives and thumping his fists on my desk.

But that’s a story for another time.

With the Goodby, Berlin and Silversteins, the Publicis & Hal Riney Incs, the CKS Partners, the Y&Rs, the Black Rockets, the Draftfcbs all ignoring me, I was glad for the friendship, encouragement and support I got from Krysia and Teresa.

When we got done with the Institute of Career Development, Krysia and me stayed in touch.

We would meet for coffee.

For sales.

For movies.

For walks.

For birthdays.

For the weekly Wednesday dinner I held at my apartment where my hit or miss cooking was mostly “miss”.

I soon twigged out my guests were there for the camaraderie rather than the food.

And camaraderie there was!

On one occasion, we were laughing so raucously, there was a knock on the door.

It was Apartment Security.

They looked over my shoulder for the drunken revelers.

All they saw were 5 demurely dressed women with cups of tea.

“Can you keep it down?” they said, “people are complaining.”

We guffawed.

I taught Krysia to make Pachadi.

She invited me over for Barszcz.

We got to know each other’s families.

I even met her sister and the three of us went to Winchester Mystery House together.

Krysia would watch Tanita grow.

And our friendship would keep growing.

It was always an amazing thing to receive a gift from Krysia – because you knew it would be a very personalized gift, or something really thoughtful.

She would observe all the things my house (or my life lacked) and make a gift of just those things to me.

Thus one birthday, I received this splendid cutting knife from her.

Another birthday she had Alfred entertain Tanita and my Mum at my apartment, while she took me to a birthday dinner at Todai, because she decided what I needed most of all was a break.

It only kind of worked out.

About half an hour into dinner – we see Tanita’s nose pressed up against the window of Todai looking at us, Alfred and my mum just behind her. 

Krysia’s best gift to me is the gift of perfect honesty.

When I ask her a question, she tells me like it is.

She tells me what I should hear and need to hear, not what I want to hear.

The years have gone by fast.

Tanita is going to be 18.

Krysia’s son has already turned 10.

Which brings me to Persimmon Bread.

In recent years, as we have gotten busy with our separate lives, Krysia and I have not been able to meet as much as we would like to.

But every time we do, we talk and talk, and the hours go by like minutes.

I have, of course, learned to drive and do all those things I couldn’t do when I first came to America.

But America is not just the Land of Opportunity.

It’s also the Land of Continual Learning.

And both Krysia and me are currently busy with learning new things.

I am learning to make a go of my new career as a Contract Commissions Administrative and Implementation Consultant.

And Krysia is busy pursuing a new mission of her own too.

Meanwhile, visiting Krysia always turns up new delights.

On my last visit, I got to taste her amazing Persimmon Bread.

Two visits ago, I accompanied her to a Zumba class.

Thanks Krysia for your friendship.

I end this post by raising my, er, cup of tea to you and saying “thanks for the many many years of friendship.

Here’s to many many more. 

One more thing....

I have never asked you the question:  Am I a koleżanka or a przyjaciel to you?  I am going to assume przyjaciel. Hope we remain przyjaciels forever!”

Dear reader - thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed this post.  Do come back next week for the second installment of The United States of Friendship.…..M, a Pearl Seeker like you.