It’s fig season!   

One of my strongest taste memories is of eating a ripe fig, straight from the tree and warm from the Italian sun.  It happened on a trip long before I moved to Italy. I could not tell you exactly where I was or who I was with, but I recall standing in the front yard of private home, speaking with the owner (an American who had moved to Italy), listening to his story and picking figs from his tree. I remember the taste of that fig with longing.  And its taste is interwoven with the beginnings of my dreams of moving to Italy. That was one important fig!

In Italian, a fig is a fico.  Two figs are fichi.  An albero di fichi is a fig tree.  But use these words with caution.  Substituting the wrong vowel at the end changes the meaning entirely and is quite vulgar.  Avoid that at all costs!   You may also hear the word fico used to mean “cool”.    If someone tells you “sei fico” that’s a compliment – you’re cool.

Both black and green figs grow throughout Italy, especially in the south.  There is even a wild fig tree growing beside a bridge over the Serchio river between Lucca and nearby Monte San Quirico.   Pretty tempting to pick one of those beauties.

 In Italy, figs are popular in both sweet and savory dishes.  They can be wrapped with prosciutto, added to a salad, baked in a crostata, or made into jam.  Figs and nuts are a popular combination, baked into a sweet roll they make a decadent but tasty prima colazione (breakfast) or dessert.

 In the US, figs are mostly grown in California and parts of the south, though they seem much less popular in the US than in Italy.   I don’t think I had ever tasted a fig before that fresh-from-the-tree one in Italy (Fig Newtons don’t count). Since I most often spend the summer months in New Mexico, where my kids and grandkids live, I usually miss out on much of the Italian fig season. 

 It was a real treat then, and a surprise, when a friend gifted me a mix of black and green figs grown in the small town of Tijeras, in the hills east of Albuquerque. I had no idea that figs grew here. The question became what to do with them.   One of the black ones, large and sweet, found its way into my morning yogurt.   But the others were saved for a late afternoon aperitivo that I was planning to host a few days later.

For the aperitivo, I cut each fig in half and topped it with mild goat cheese (softened at room temperature).  Next, a drizzle of honey.  It looked like it needed just a little something more, so the final touch was a sprinkle of chopped salted pistachios.  It could not have been more simple, yet the combination of flavors was anything but.  The black figs were larger and definitely sweeter than the green. But the green ones, firmer and a bit less sweet, were also delicious.   For a bit of added color, I added some apricots to the plate. The aperitivo was rounded out with a few other tidbits (hummus with carrots, some green olives, and a few salty pretzels).   All went well with a pitcher of Aperol Spritz. 

 My friend Julie, the giver of the gift of figs, made a variation using ricotta flavored with a little Amaretto in place of the goat cheese. She was happy with that combination and I am anxious to try it. And how pretty was her presentation?

I’ll return to Italy in August and fortunately figs will still be in season.  I am looking forward to Italian fichi con formaggio di capra (goat cheese) e pistacchio.