I came across this little gem whilst in Sienna in Italy. It totally crept up on me like a sleazy guy on a dancefloor. But unlike the sleazy guy, I welcomed this into my life with open arms.
So if I was organised, I would have posted this recipe for St Patrick’s Day (because it’s green people, yes, just pointing out the obvious – just in case), but I wasn’t, so here it is today. Come to think of it, on the other hand you could actually say that I am super organised and getting you prepared for next year’s St Patrick’s Day. Up to you which way you want to look at it…glass half empty or glass half full…your choice.
Today didn’t start off that awesome as I had to get a test done at the hospital (nothing serious!) and I have a phobia of needles, but I was well rewarded when I visited my dad afterwards and received a lovely package of delicious purple figs that he had bought from his grocer. They had been picked straight from the garden of the grocer’s father, really folks, unless you picked these yourself…could it get any better?
I adore figs in every way shape and form. I love how they are so versatile and can be eaten as a savoury or sweet dish. I inherited my obsession with figs from my Mediterranean dad who was well into them way before they became fashionable on the food scene. I do remember though when I was a kid, I had a weird way of eating them. For some reason I wasn’t digging the texture of the skin and would just tear them in half, eat the sweet jammy insides and throw the skins away. My dad would throw his arms up in disgust at this fig crime I was committing. But now, things have changed, and my dad would be proud, I eat those things skin and all.