Photo/Illutration Fumiya Matsusaki soaks a bag of persimmons in hot spring water to remove the astringency of the fruits at the Shibi Onsen spa resort in Satsuma, Kagoshima Prefecture, on Nov. 4. (Koichi Furuya)

In late autumn, my thoughts inevitably turn to the persimmon.

Its vivid orange hue glowing against the green of the mountains stirs a gentle nostalgia—a poignant reminder that this fleeting moment, suspended between warmth and chill, is already slipping away.

“Shibu-gaki,” or astringent persimmons, are known for their harshness: when eaten raw, before they ripen to the point of softness, they cause a uniquely powerful, unpleasant and dry-mouth sensation.

There is a certain richness to be savored in this fact.

To remove that astringency for eating shibu-gaki, the people of this country have devised various clever methods over the centuries.

In the mountain hamlet of Shibi Onsen in Satsuma, Kagoshima Prefecture, the seasonal specialty is “aoshi-gaki”—persimmons whose astringency has been removed using hot spring water.

Locals bring their astringent persimmons, pack them into mesh bags and soak them overnight in the warm water of Shibi Onsen. The soaking takes place in a special bath prepared for this purpose, located under the eaves of the public bathhouse run by the Shibi community.

“This time of year, I don’t get much sleep,” says Fumiya Matsusaki, 65, the caretaker, who is kept busy day and night.

To keep the water temperature constant, he spends his late nights and early mornings tending to the persimmons and the bath, watching both closely.

Thanks to his strenuous care, the astringency vanishes through the process. What remains is a persimmon imbued with a faint scent of the hot springs, a distinctive flavor and a rich, deep sweetness.

On the other side of the bathhouse wall, people soak in the same hot spring. The fee structure highlights the town’s dual priorities: 400 yen ($2.60) for 10 kilograms of persimmons and 200 yen for one adult.

The hot spring water is thick and smooth, known as the “Kami no Yu” (bath of the gods). As for me, possessing no astringency in need of drawing out, I merely ended up pruney.

“In the West, bathing is a matter of utility; in Japan, it is a matter of pleasure,” wrote Tetsuro Watsuji (1889-1960), a prominent historian and moral philosopher, in his travelogue “Koji Junrei” (Pilgrimages to old temples).

A Japanese bath, Watsuji observed, is “a place to savor the touch of the water, its warmth, the freshness that follows, or the feeling of gentle intoxication.”

And then a simple question slips out: “Why are shibu-gaki so astringent in the first place?”

“To keep the birds from eating them, I suppose,” Matsusaki replied.

A practical answer, perhaps. Yet one feels there might be more to it. The persimmons floated silently, soaking in the hot spring.

—The Asahi Shimbun, Nov. 9

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Vox Populi, Vox Dei is a popular daily column that takes up a wide range of topics, including culture, arts and social trends and developments. Written by veteran Asahi Shimbun writers, the column provides useful perspectives on and insights into contemporary Japan and its culture.

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