Every year at Christmas time I sing and demand some figgy pudding. Despite my annual pleading cries, I have never even seen a real fig let alone taste one or sample some of the famed figgy pudding.
So I have taken matters into my own hands. The figs are in season here and they look like big soft green chestnuts.
It actually took us three purchases of figs in order for me to actually get to taste them.
First Batch: mushed beyond recognition on the walk home.
Second Batch: Slightly mushed. Left on counter overnight. Attracted fruit flies. Hubby put in bag on porch. Rotten and moldy within a few hours.
Third Batch: Purchased at the fruit store very close to our house. Only partially mangled and eaten directly to avoid any more catastrophes.
Now I know why figs are usually dried. What a pain in the fig.
It turns out that figs are extremely sweet without much flavour. Consequently, The Chicken loved them and gobbled them all up. I'll stick to dates.
Even better than the fruits are the leaves. We found a tree hanging into the street from a nearby backyard. The leaves were way more fun. BEHOLD, not Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, but Hen and Chicken near the garden of Levi.
3 comments:
check your math, luv - mystery fruits go to eleven!
Fixed!
I went home for the Civil Holiday long weekend and had a few figs too! Apparently, my parents love them, all imported I think (here goes my carbon credit) and sold in fancy boxes (now I understand why...). Canton Chinese likes to use the dried ones in soup. As a kid, on a few occasion, grandma would entice me with dried figs to drink up those bitter Chinese herbal medicine. Ah, bittersweet memories... And with that early training of yuckiness, I'm super easygoing with food...
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