what the fig?!

Three figs, watercolor on paper, 2013

One summer, Zio Giovanni gave us a crate load of figs. I mean, a. crate. load. of. figs. Approximately 70 figs total. For two people. These figs were so ripe, that they were practically bursting their figgy sweet insides all over the place. The kitchen smelled like a sweaty orchard and within two hours of their arrival, fruit flies had arrived on the scene. Time was limited. We tried to eat as many figs as we could in two days, but when all was said and done - our bellies aching, shouting, "BASTA!" - there were still about 50 rotten figs stinking up the kitchen in Piazza Antonelli. What a sad day...don't tell Zio Giovanni.
Time has passed and I've learned how to make fig jam, fig preserves, fig pie, fig cookies, fig and walnut cake, figgy pudding (just kidding), you name it, so never again shall a fig go to waste under this roof. In fact, when the first figs of the season arrive at the market, I come running home with a bagful. They're like giant gemstones, varying in color from the most beautiful deep purple and maroon to a shocking, zesty green. Crack them open and their fragrant, fleshy insides are the pinkest pink. Too beautiful to eat, I take to painting them first...then I slice them up with a little prosciutto crudo, some fresh pane toscano and dinner is served.