I have an admission to make.
I have never eaten a fresh fig.
I’ve eaten lots of Fig Newtons…the only thing I ever knew about figs, until I was an adult, was that figs were the sticky sweet filling in a cookie I loved.
I loved the episode of Sex in the City where Charlotte was out with the guy in a restaurant and he ate a fig in the most obscene manner imaginable.
I love dried Persian figs.
But I have never eaten a fresh fig.
Until today.
Meh.
Definitely not what I was expecting.
Kinda bland.
I think I now understand why people grow their own figs if they love them.
I think “fresh” figs that are available in the store, even if you go to the Persian grocers, are not picked fresh and are a bland persona of what a fig, ripened and picked fresh from a tree, probably can be.
I grew up eating cherries ripened under the hot Shuswap sunshine on the tree….right off of the tree. And the cherries I get at the grocery store, no matter how good, are still a shadow of the cherries I ate as a kid, picking fruit for wages, in my grandparent’s orchard.
So figs are probably the same.
But ten bucks for the little container of a fruit I had such high hopes for and was so disappointed in?
They are now macerating into what I imagine will be a yummy jar of fig, balsamic, honey, and red wine jam….when I get around to reducing it.
Probably not tomorrow….because tomorrow sounds like it needs a motorcycle ride instead.
