Kaki

Melon logic with more sugar; the salt cancels whatever tannin is still hanging about.

Lactic acid is the axis the fruit is missing entirely. Nothing else fixes that.

Astringency on astringency, but the nut oil coats the tongue and shortens both.

Warm phenols suit a honey-heavy pulp that has almost no top note of its own.

Citric acid over dense sugar. A hard fuyu tastes like a different fruit with it.

Both are soft and low; the pod adds length rather than a competing flavour.

Cream against jelly. Two soft textures held apart only by salt and olive oil.

Peppery bitterness is what the fruit needs when it is too ripe to slice cleanly.

Ground toasted seed dressing on sliced kaki is a standard Japanese autumn plate.

Watery pepper and dense sugar, cut into matchsticks and dressed with vinegar.

Koji salt in a tofu dressing turns a dessert fruit into a first course.

The peel oil is sharp enough to survive a pulp this thick. Juice is not.

Astringent-sweet fruit on cured beef does the job a tannic wine would.

Kaki was traditionally ripened with spirit; the rice esters find the honey note.

Nutty milk solids over jelly flesh; it tastes like the fruit was baked in pastry.

Both carry a dried-apricot lactone and a tannic grip at the very end.