This morning, I rushed to the fig tree to see if there were any left for me. While picking yesterday morning, my crazy neighbor from the back street called my cell phone and told me how good my figs are. Say what? Between him and the birds, there might not be enough to make my next experiment.
As I approach, grocery bag on wrist, and reach for the first ripe jewel, I realize the birds have breached our contract. The evidence is there–half eaten figs, gaped open, looking at me. How dare they?
I make my way around the south side of tree and hear their wings fluttering as the feathered thieves fly from my half of the tree back up to their territory. They mock me as I reach for the last few plump, ripe fruits, wingless. They laugh because they know they can fly down to where my figs are any time, but I will never be able to fly up to where their figs are.
With that, I spoke my Fig Tree Edict. Next year, I will post a sign: NO BIRDS ALLOWED. And I will hang it on my fig-picking ladder. And I double dog dare those beaky rascals to break my new law.
The last photo is my new creation. LilSis told me this morning that the reason she never liked to eat fig preserves when we were growing up is not because she didn’t like the taste. It was because she didn’t like having a “lump” on her toast. She read about cutting the figs in half and thought that might help. The I told her that I mash them for the mock berry jams that I make, and it gave her hope that she might enjoy fig preserves after all.
And now, I have a real surprise for her. I call it Fig Confiture. The above 2 jars are for her. (Confiture is the French word my mother-in-law calls the figs she cooks in sugar and serves right away with bread.)
Little did I know when I made up the recipe and named it that, there really is such a thing and it sells for a nice price.
Here’s how I made it. I mashed 2 cups of figs and put them in my heavy pot. Added one cup of sugar, almost a whole packet of Sure-Jell, 2 thick lemon slices, cut in half. I brought the mixture to a quick boil and boiled, stirring about five minutes. I quickly spooned hot mixture into the small hot jars and then boiled the jars for 10 minutes.
There was one large spoon of the confiture left in the pot. I let Termite do the tasting honors. One bite and he held his mouth open like a baby bird for more. Blackberry fig preserves or fig confiture, no matter what you call it, the flavor is UNBELIEVABLE, like nothing I’ve ever tasted.
Happy Early Birthday, LilSis!
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Now I’ve made four kinds of fig preserves this season. I think I’m about figged out!