"Is that a fruit?" the cashier at the check-out asked me, observing the four figs I've placed on the conveyor belt. "I've never tried it. I think you're the first customer I've seen buying it!"
"Ever tried a Fig Newton?" I asked.
"No."
Of course I'm in no position to judge anyone else's food experiences as I myself was buying a white chayote, which I had never tried and had
no idea what I was going to do with. I bought it out of curiosity, and the fact that it's beautiful, sculptural, heart-shaped form looked like something My Sweetie* would include in one of her still-life paintings. (I did ask the cashier about preparing chayote; "my mother cooks with it sometimes" she said, with a shrug.)
But regarding figs, I'm willing to bet that a good many Americans have never encountered one outside of the aforementioned Newton. Which made me wonder: why it is that some fruits resist "molestation" by some corporate entity or another, but not figs? The fig seems a most unlikely candidate for being rendered unrecognizable in that way. It's naturally sweet, juicy but not excessively messy, compact and portable. The seeds are tiny enough to be unobjectionable, and it doesn't require peeling or coring. It's a neat little package ready to go.
How much so I prove to myself when I start putting my groceries in the car. One of the figs had gotten slightly squished in my basket; I nipped off the stem end with my fingernails and popped the rest into my mouth whole. (You can't do that with a pear.) The idea of taking these little gems, mashing it, adding white sugar and other ingredients, then wrapping it in a thick blanket of bland dough not only seems superfluous, it's absurd.
Perhaps figs just need a better marketing agent. (Is the person who used to represent raisins still available?)
My favorite way to have figs, however, is to warm them: baked or lightly broiled, drizzled with maple syrup or honey (or not), perhaps sprinkled with coriander (or not.) The other day I remembered I had a bit of goat cheese at home and, wondering "what if?" enjoyed a late-morning treat. Baked, in this instance; the juice from the figs melded with the honey and became a beautiful deep rose-colored sauce at the bottom of the baking dish. The goat cheese was the spreadable stuff, hardly first rate (and certainly not from France. New Jersey, perhaps?) but just "goaty" enough to provide a contrast to the figs when dabbed after letting the figs cool a little. Whole wheat toast triangles, from good, crusty, "peasant" bread, perhaps sourdough, would have been a perfect accompaniment, providing crunchy contrast to the softness of the cheese and fruit. Unfortunately, I didn't have any bread on hand, a rare occasion in our kitchen.
What will I do differently next time? My Sweetie* said that she might prefer maple syrup on them rather than honey, so I'll try that instead. What else? I can imagine increasing the salty/savory quotient and really make the sweetness sing. Wrap the figs and goat cheese in paper-thin slices of prosciutto, perhaps? Perhaps. Or sprinkle with a bit of finely-ground sea salt, which I'm more likely to have on hand? Why not?
Small pleasures, indeed.
(And yes, I realize I'm made a hypocrite of myself in claiming that figs are naturally sweet, and then topping them with a sweetner; but since I'm already in this deep I might as dive in all the way and confess that if I'd had agave syrup, I probably would have used that instead due to its viscosity but also it's relatively "neutral" flavor.)
*Not her real name. Of course.
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