Fig Season
I have always taken a satisfaction in knowing that it was not eating the fig that led to Adam’s fall, and that, indeed, it was the leaves of the fig that afforded him some modicum of modesty when he discovered himself in a shameful situation. I suppose the grounds of my satisfaction lies in that fact that I find figs more alluring and more succulent than any apple, pomegranate, or other ancient fruit that may have some claim to hail from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. In Greek mythology the fig was a plant close to the heart of Demeter, deity of agriculture. There was also an odd connection with Bacchus. We usually think of the grape being the fruit cherished by that appetite-driven immortal, but during the rites of his cult, celebrants began hurling figs around the sacred grove like a cafeteria food fight.
Which puts me in mind of fig wine, a beverage I have never tasted. It is made in the countries skirting the Mediterranean as an alternative to the usual grape and less usual raisin wines. Figs are not very juicy, so it is made by figs going over ripe, and sugar is added to the mash to aid in alcohol production. Because a great quantity of figs are required to make a gallon of wine, the beverage is usually created by persons with a grove of trees and an excess of fruit.
What we call the fruit of the fige is really a syconium—a vegetal sack sheething a multitude of inward growing blossoms. So were are eating a chunking aggregation of flowers. The Southeast grew figs in quantity as early as the Spanish colonization of Florida. Though they function best in hot and dried climes—such as California or Texas, they have grown profusely and abundantly in the South despite the humidity. The eastern shore of Virginia is among the finest regions for fig growing.
Over the years I’ve sought out growers with unusual varieties. My friend Bernie Herman has an orchard of antique figs on the eastern shore of Virginia that started me on my quest to taste types I haven’t had before. So in the past decade I’ve sampled the usuals such as Brown Turkey, Brunswick, Green Ischia, Celeste/Celestial, Lemon, Smyrna, White Marseilles. I’ve also had single encounters with the Angelique, Blue Genoa, Madeleine (small white), Black Havanna, White Adriatic
I also have a list of historic varieties I haven’t tasted such as the Crawford (green with crimson pulp), the Hirtu (a Japanese variety), Dalmatian (although this may be the Magnolia Fig, a variety I have sampled), Violet (a Japanese introduction of the early 20th century), and Alicant. While dried figs are welcome, my preference is for the fresh.