What The Fig

When I was a kid the only way I ever knew a fig was on the form of a Newton. Not that we ever got cookies in our house, but I do remember going to Gayle Hemingway’s house and enjoying the cake like seedy cookie. It wasn’t untilI was out of college that I think I ever even saw a fresh fig.  
I might have been introduced to them in Martha Stewart’s Entertaining cookbook, but still had not met one personally. I have some recollection of eating a fresh fig at the restaurant at the Domain Chandon winery in Napa valley on vacation with my family. It seemed very sophisticated, yet so familiar, from those first Newton days, but was so much better fresh.
Figs remained fairly elusive to me in the fresh form, probably because most varieties are fairly thin skinned and don’t travel well. It wasn’t until I moved to North Carolina that I discovered that figs grow other places than Napa valley, in fact right in my own town.
I have neighbor’s who have fig trees and sometimes I am lucky enough to be the recipient of their fig crop. Sadly my best fig source, Mary, sold her house and the new owner took out her magnificent fig tree.  
That prompted me to try and grow my own figs. I bought a small seedling at the farmers market a few years ago. I was told that a fig tree needs three or four years of growth before it will produce fruit. I am in year five and although my tree is getting quite large I can only spot two figs on the whole thing. If next year I don’t get more fruit I may have to do away with the tree as it is taking over one end of my driveway.
Last week at the farmers market one of the stands had a few little boxes of brown turkey figs for a dollar a box. I bought two and brought them home so I could pretend in my own mind they had come from my tree.
I cut the little brown figs in half to expose the delicate pink seedy center. I smeared a button of goat cheese on the cut half and dotted it with a drop of honey which immediately oozed down the sides of the fruit. I brought the small plate of figs up to Russ in the gathering room to enjoy as an appetizer before dinner. We both agreed we could skip dinner and just eat figs with goat cheese and honey if only we had more. Maybe next summer my tree will come into its own and provide us with a bounty that will make us sick of figs. Until then I am going to go out me talk to my tree to encourage fruiting.
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