Fig season is fleeting, and I consider the fruit sort of an emblem of transition. They arrive at the market in the last days of summer with matte, slightly shriveled skin, and a tender interior well suited to pair with honey or cheese. The days are not quite blustery, but no longer scorching hot. Fall is imminent, yet restrained. We are waiting for the inevitable, seasonal shift, which is the exact moment plump figs appear.
When it comes to matters of the seasons, and what to do about it, recipe-wise, I'm fond of thumbing through The Kitchen Diaries by Nigel Slater. The entry from October 26 is especially poignant.
“The last fat, yellow leaves fell off the fig tree this morning, leaving next year’s buds at the tip of each gray branch and forty green fruits that will never ripen.
You approach the tree with caution, each piece of stone around its base splattered with potentially lethal squashed figs, hoping for just one edible fruit. But there is no such thing, and the tree that promised so much in May has failed to deliver.”
The moral of this story is to find a few figs and eat them before they disappear, and in an effort to encourage you, three poetic offerings are below. Choose your favorite food haiku before September 16th!
VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE FIG HAIKU
