I planted a fig tree in my yard four years ago. To date, it has produced nothing but fig leaves.
Now don’t get me wrong. Fig leaves are lovely. I’m told that some folks have even used them to make clothing.
But as my Poppie used to say, “If I can’t eat it, I don’t want it growing in my yard.”
I couldn’t agree more, and had begun contemplating what pulled pork would taste like if smoked over smoldering fig tree chunks.
But just as I was about to pull the string on my chainsaw, I saw it. I mean, them. That seemingly infertile fig tree was bursting with figs.
Tonight, I harvested a basket–a mere fraction of what’s still hanging from the branches.
Yeah…I’ll take the fresh figs with jamón iberico and a glass of fino sherry.
You take the Fig Newtons.
Those figs look sooooooo juicy, I could lick the screen!! And the site of prosciutto is making me drool!
Congratulations on the fig harvest. That plate looks mighty tasty. We’re heading off to Alicante this Thursday. Perhaps I’ll be able to order something similar at the hotel bar!
Mmm, nothing better. Well, almost nothing. 😉
I’ll pass on the figs (and Mausi’s plums), but that jamon looks so good! I made the mistake of buying something being billed as “jamon” at my local Wal-Mart the other day, just because I’m so Spain-sick. It tasted just the way you’d expect Wal-Mart jamon to taste. (Like crap!)