Persimmons in Korea: Bare Branches, a Frightened Tiger, and Fruit Left for the Magpies

Korean persimmon art print: five ripe orange persimmons on bare, thin branches against a near-black background with ink splashes, Heirpetal print

If you have bought a squat, tomato-shaped Fuyu persimmon this fall, you have tasted one of Korea's favorite autumn fruits. In Korean it is simply gam (감). And in late autumn, a Korean persimmon tree is one of the most striking sights in the countryside: bare branches, almost no leaves, and bright orange fruit hanging in the cold air.

A fruit that ripens after the leaves fall

That picture is not just poetic license. The Asian persimmon tree ripens its fruit when the leaves have mostly fallen, usually in October and November, which is also the main harvest season across East Asia. So the classic image of late autumn in Korea is a tree that looks almost winter-bare, still lit up with fruit.

There are two broad kinds. Astringent persimmons, such as Hachiya, are only pleasant once they turn soft and jelly-like. Non-astringent ones, such as Fuyu, can be eaten while still firm, like an apple. In Korea persimmons are served as a dessert or set out when guests come over, cut into sections with the skin and core removed.

A curtain of dried persimmons under the eaves

Autumn is also the season for gotgam (곶감), dried persimmons. Families and farmers pick firm, still-astringent fruit, peel it, tie it on straw ropes and hang it somewhere sunny and airy, often under the eaves of the house. As the fruit dries, it darkens and firms up. After the seeds are taken out, the persimmons are pressed into shape, and once they have dried down to about three quarters of their original weight, they are packed in rice straw and left in a cool place until a fine white bloom of fruit sugar forms on the outside. Sangju, in North Gyeongsang Province, is the town most famous for them.

Dried persimmons are a winter treat, and children in particular love them. Which brings us to a tiger.

The tiger who was afraid of a dried persimmon

One of Korea's best-known folktales is "The Tiger and the Dried Persimmon" (호랑이와 곶감). A tiger creeps up to a house and overhears a mother with a crying baby. She warns that a tiger is coming, but the baby keeps crying. Then she mentions a dried persimmon, and the crying stops. The tiger concludes that this "gotgam" must be something far scarier than a tiger.

Meanwhile a cow thief sneaks into the same house and ends up riding on the tiger's back. The tiger, sure that the dreaded gotgam has caught him, runs for his life. The thief, realizing what he is riding, runs the other way. The children's writer Ma Hae-song turned the tale into a story in 1933, and it has been retold in picture books ever since, including English editions.

This is not the only place a Korean tiger comes off as more comic than frightening. The wide-eyed tiger of Korean folk painting is often read the same way, sitting under a pine while a magpie, the bird of good news, chatters above it. We wrote about that painting in The Tiger and the Magpie.

A few left for the birds

When the harvest is done, some persimmons are often still hanging at the top of the tree, and not by accident. In rural Korea people traditionally leave a few behind and call them kkachi-bap (까치밥), "magpie food." The orange fruit against a clear late-autumn sky is part of the season's look. Magpies have long been linked with good news in Korea, which may be part of the reason.

Koreans like to tell a story about the American novelist Pearl S. Buck, author of The Good Earth. Visiting Gyeongju, she is said to have asked why some persimmons were left on a tree, and was told they were for the magpies, for the hungry winter birds. Whether or not every detail is exact, the custom it describes is a small, generous habit: leave a little for someone else.

Persimmon wood in the scholar's room

The tree was useful long after the fruit was gone. Korean furniture makers used persimmon wood, and the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne has a Korean book and stationery chest (mungap, 문갑) from the early 20th century made of persimmon and paulownia wood with brass fittings. A chest like this held documents, paper and writing tools, and would have furnished the sarangbang, the room used for study, writing poetry and conversation.

Our Persimmon print

Digital room mockup: the persimmon print as a 4x6 in a white frame on a light wood desk beside a laptop, a white mug and a notebook; frame not included

Our Persimmon print is a late-autumn tree seen up close. Five ripe persimmons hang on a tangle of bare, thin branches, glowing orange against a near-black ground with a few splashes of ink at the bottom. There are no leaves and no birds, just the fruit that is left when everything else has gone quiet.

To be clear about how it was made: Persimmon is part of Drop 02, our second collection. It is a digital design created with the help of AI tools and art-directed by our studio, not a hand-painted work. Its warm orange makes it an easy fit for a kitchen shelf, a dining sideboard or a desk through the fall, and because the background is so dark, it also looks good next to our Plum Blossom and Ink River prints.

About the print

  • Unframed giclée print on enhanced matte art paper.
  • Three sizes: 4x6, 8x10 and 11x14 inches. 4x6 and 8x10 ship flat; 11x14 ships rolled in a tube. Not sure which one fits your space? See our print size guide.
  • US orders are printed and shipped within the United States by our print partner.
  • Also available as a printable instant download to print at home or at a local print shop.
  • Designs are created with the help of AI tools and art-directed by our studio.

See the Persimmon print on Etsy · Read: The Tiger and the Magpie · Read: Korean Art Gift Ideas

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