How is it that I left it so long to buy my first fresh figs this season? Yes I’ve seen them all ripe and plump at local grocers and fresh produce shops, yet I walk on by like I don’t care. Poor little dears.
Not a great deal needs to be done to the humble fig for me to appreciate them. My favourite approach? Tear them open, admire the gorgeous colours for a few seconds, then eat them skin and all. Au naturel, baby!
It has been done countless times, but taking the bruschetta route is another approach that pops into my mind when I come home with fresh figs. Toasted sourdough, some ricotta and a few other tidbits. Just enough for the fig to shine.
I’ve laced the ricotta with a little rosewater; reminiscent of my long-ago jaunt through Morocco. Some sliced almonds and pistachios add to the story. Additional to fresh figs, I’ve thinly sliced some dried figs for another slice of bread; that way you can have your figs year-round.
The bruschetta is perfect as is, but that jar of truffle honey beckoned from the pantry.
“You know you want to” it whispered.
And I did.