The Happiest Surprise

When I was little and we would visit my grandparents in New Orleans, we would sometimes be there when Norman's fig tree was bearing fruit. Norman was the next-door neighbor, and the fig tree was right on the property line, so there were figs all over the place. Norman didn't mind sharing. There were far too many figs for him to eat by himself, anyway.

Thus began a lifelong love of fresh figs.

Unfortunately, fresh figs are hard to find unless you grow your own, as my parents do now in Tucson. Also unfortunately, figs do not appreciate our climate. The MiL one time got a cold-hardy variety of fig that we kept in a pot. I think we got a dozen figs from it. Then the pot it was in broke and we planted it in a sheltered spot in the garden.

That winter was particularly brutal and the fig was not cold-hardy enough. Dead fig. Sadness.

But someone around here has had a lot more success with fig trees, because when I stopped at the very small farmers market in the village on my way back from the dump this morning, I spied figs hidden way behind some very exuberant kale. (All kale is far too exuberant, in my opinion.) Several small boxes, and two varieties.

One of the varieties was the standard brown turkey fig--the only fig I have so far had any experience with--and the other was a yellowish-green. The lady selling them didn't even know what kind it was, but she thought maybe it was the same as the kind they use to make Fig Newtons.

Did you know they use yellow figs to make Fig Newtons? Me neither. The things you can learn on a random Saturday morning.

So now I have two boxes of fresh figs. And that makes me happy.