I stopped my bike to pick the ripe, orange-hued orb off of a roadside tree. And as I took a bite, it succumbed to my teeth with its honey-sweet juice.

My travel companions and I had spent the day biking through a coastal area in the heart of Japan’s Ishikawa prefecture—less than an hour’s flight from Tokyo—led by Takuya, our energetic guide. We started by following the shoreline, passing rusty fishing boats and cliff-side lighthouses before cutting inland, where we came across a bamboo forest and a roadside cemetery flanked by stone jizo statues honoring lost children. We passed through countless villages, with their traditional tile-roof houses, all of them immersed in their quiet routines. Perhaps it was this beautiful journey leading up to my perfect persimmon that made it taste so damn good.

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