Encore about figs

Back to figs:

I already mentioned our prolific fig tree—absolutely LOADED with Long Yellow variety figs the size of tangerines. The tree survived in a pot for a few years before I planted it in the ground, and it has been growing (pun intended) crazy ever since. The reason for our abundant harvest could be that my husband trimmed it practically to a stump sporting a few limbs last January. Now, we are competing with June bugs the size of helicopters that alight on the ripest, sweetest figs. These HUGE, whirring bugs give me the creeps. I preferred the possum who gobbled up the best figs two years ago. We couldn’t figure out what monster ate so much fruit overnight until the poor beast fell into a garbage can we had forgotten under the tree. He was not a happy camper. My husband, kind heart that he is, returned him to the wild with the help of a spray of water. The possum has stayed away since. 

 The problem remains:

What to do with an overabundance of fruit:

Last year I made enough fig chutney for an army. I also sun-dried sliced figs.

This time around, I am making fig jam. I eat the jam whenever I am in Morocco (Aicha brand fig jam is a favorite of mine, and so is their apricot jam). Recipes for fresh fig jam are difficult to come by, I discovered. I thus relied on the method my French grandmother used for measuring quantities: equal amounts of sugar and fruit, and a little lemon juice. I simply added a sprig of rosemary for a light floral scent.

I am now happily binging on bits of Long Yellow figs afloat in a heavy golden syrup. Fresh fig jam rocks!

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