Ok, so let's talk about one of the nicest treats the end of summer brings. Figs. Down in Rock Hall, MD, there are a few really big fig trees. At the end of August, the Halin family all comes together at Silly Manor (that's Dad and Linda's house) for some relaxation and scotch drinking. Once during the visit, to escape the menagerie of kids and dogs, the womenfolk go fig picking. Right down the street from dad's house is an enormous fig tree, and Linda has a friend who has another big tree.
Picking figs is something that pretty much requires a hazmat suit, but it's usually a blazing hot summer day, so we are wearing shorts and tshirts. Fig trees are full of bugs. The fruit is a tasty treat for all kinds of flying, creeping, biting and stinging things. The reward is worth the discomfort. Also, the riper figs tend to be up higher, so someone has to climb into and up the tree. That's often the smallest person. Me. Yay. Wait, let's get back to stinging things. Ever heard the one about the wasp and the fig? Um..there's no punch line. It's a true story. There is a certain type of wasp called a "fig wasp." You see, the fig needs someone to pollinate it, and the wasp needs a place to live and make babies. I know, it sounds gross, but hang on, it's going to be ok.
The fig is basically an inside out flower, so to get it pollinated, it needs something to carry the pollen inside it. At the bottom of the fruit is an opening, called an ostiole. The female wasp, who has pollen on her from another fig, flies over and crawls up the ostiole. On her way in, she loses her wings and antennae. (It's a narrow little tunnel.) Her goal is to lay eggs. Now, there are two different kinds of figs on every tree. There are male figs, called Caprifigs, and female figs, called Edible Figs. If the wasp gets into a caprifig, it is suited for egg laying, and that's what she does. Those larvae develop into male and female wasps. The males never get wings, and just spend their lives digging tunnels for the female wasps to get out, loaded with pollen and in search of another fig. If the female gets into an edible fig, she won't be able to lay eggs, and will die, but not before pollinating the inside, which will develop seeds. I know, you are totally skeeved by now, aren't you? And wondering if the crunchy inside of your figs and prosciutto or Newton cookie is really dead wasp?
IT'S NOT. Y'see, this is where the symbiosis, or mutualism, comes into play again. As the pollinated fig grows, it emits an enzyme called ficin which completely digests the wasp. Seriously. All gone. No more wasp. Oh, and if you are really worried about eating bugs, you better just stop eating all commercially processed food. Just sayin...
Now, let's get back to our figs, after we've picked them. We are lucky in our family, because Lisa (my sister-in-law) is not only a talented author and potter, she also loves to put up jams and preserves. She makes a kickin' fig jam. So let's talk about it, shall we?
As I mentioned, first we pick the figs.
Well, that's a pretty butterfly and some unripe figs, but it's pretty. Then, Lisa cuts them and puts them in a stainless bowl, and macerates them in a little sugar. That will help pull the natural syrup out of the fruit.
This is what they look like after they sit overnight. Then she puts them in a heavy bottom pot, adds the zest and juice of a lemon, some balsamic vinegar, and some fresh black pepper. She added the pepper to give it a little zing. You can find the exact recipe and methodology on HER blog, ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com. She is a canning whiz and has a lot of recipes posted.
She puts the fig jam up in small jars. It is amazing with just about anything: on toast, on a cheese plate with sharp and stinky cheeses and salami, as a condiment for roast pork or duck.
.JPG)
Summer is coming to an end. My son has started his freshman year at Temple University, and my daughter is anxiously (NOT) awaiting her first day of school. I will hang on to the last of the warm days, corn, tomatoes, peaches, and the sweet sound of cicadas singing me to sleep. I will miss my favorite season, but have already started thinking about the fall foods that are just around the corner.
And on a chilly night to come, I can open a bottle of wine, put out some cheese and meats and crackers, and crack open a jar of Lisa's fig jam. I'll close my eyes, and see sunset on the bay, Linda's beautiful zinnias, and the hummingbirds at the nectar feeder. And start counting the days until next summer.
