The Fig

Twenty-four hours ago I didn't know the difference between a fig and a Russian weather balloon. My only experience with them was either dried and dusted in sulphates, or as a fig cookie in a plastic wrapper. Getting into the car yesterday, I noticed this little purple purse of flesh sitting on the hood where it had fallen out of the tree under which we park. At this point I noticed the tree was full of this little purple fruit and decided to investigate. Thirty minutes on the internet and now I'm a leading expert on the fig.
This amazing little fruit is on par with the mango and peach for flavour and richness when eaten fresh. I quartered these ones, spread on little local artisan goat cheese and finished it with a dab of honey....Wham! Tastes like the tears of joy from the angels of heaven. Coupled with a steaming cappuccino on the terrace in the first light of a beautiful morning and you can actually hear the angels whisper your name as they shed those tears of joy.