Pomegranate vs. Persimmon, or, How to Eat Fruit Amazing Race Style

My sister hosted Thanksgiving this year in D.C. She lives in a tiny apartment so we all got rooms at the hotel around the corner. I lost the battle with G over not having the tv on in the hotel room, but to make up for it, we watched Martha Stewart while getting ready one morning.
Usually Martha's tips and "good things" verge on being too much work or else not as useful as she intends. So I was intrigued when she showed us how to cut open a pomegranate, extract the seeds and not end up looking like murderer. My way involves hacking it open and scooping out seeds directly into my mouth while standing over the kitchen sink. Her technique involved scoring the fruit, breaking it in half and then knocking the seeds into a bowl with a wooden spoon. Seemed easy enough! Two dozen bottles of wine and four days later we returned to Boston and, inspired by the bounty of Thanksgiving, bought a pomegranate. The finale of The Amazing Race seemed like a special enough occasion to try to 3 steps: I scored the fruit and tried to pull it apart-- no dice, and then the commerical was over, so I raced myself back to the living room. Would Kimberly finally lose it on Rob? Would we witness domestic abuse played out internationally? Next commercial: I just cut the fruit in half and started banging on the fruit with a wooden spoon to release the seeds. They clung for dear life. End of commercial, raced back to the living room. Why are the models so boring? Would they really win? Next commerical: started scooping seeds out with a teaspoon. Had to cut the fruit into more wedges to avoid the membrane. A pool of juice collected on the cutting board. Commercial ends and I lick juice off my fingers and bring the first "fruits of my labor" to G, who gulps them down without appreciation for all the work I've gone through. And why can't the Alabama ladies be a little more telegenic? They needed some PR-- I didn't want them to win even if it was for their kids. Final commercial-- I give up and start scraping the seeds out with my hands, over the sink. Juice has splattered on my clothes and the floor and the cats eye loose seeds suspiciously. All the seeds obtained, I meander back to the living room in time to see a CAB DRIVER take the models to the finish. Lame.
Not to be outwitted by a fruit, I decided to conquer The Persimmon. I purchased three, shrink wrapped in a Trader Joe's package. I tried a persimmon a few years back, before it was ripe, and was I felt like I ate a box full of chalk. Since then I've avoided that fall fruit. I let them sit on the butcher block a few days to make sure they were good and ripe. And then I let them sit some more. Finally, I tried one and my mouth did not pucker. I decided to let the remaining ones sit a little longer...G came home and said, "what are you going to do with those tomatoes?" "They're not tomatoes, they're persimmons." The next day, G said, "Aren't you going to use those tomoatoes for something?" "They're persimmons!! Fruit! It wouldn't hurt you to try one!" And still they sat, still ripening, more and more until G said, "Why are you holding on to these moldy tomatoes?" The truth is, I wasn't so impressed with the persimmon. Like the models, it was rather bland an boring, but held out, on the counter, for more than a week.