Fifteen pounds of figs - second picking

The fig lady called and we negotiated a meeting on Friday afternoon. She brought fifteen pounds of beautiful, firm, brown, sweet, almost perfect figs. I almost laughed when I saw them. And I knew that I would be in the kitchen for at least a day, maybe more.

I started by checking my shelf (I found two jars leftover from 2012. They are too old - probably still OK to eat - but not a quality product.). I also found a large jar with "2013 - FIRST FIGS" written on the label. That may have meant something to me last summer, but I have no clear idea what it means today. I suspect that, because the first picking can be "hit or miss," this was a warning to keep these for me and not give them away.

I will admit the first picking this year was inconsistent. Perhaps it was because the fig lady didn't realize the figs were getting ripe (the tree is not at her home, but some distance away on their farm). Perhaps our delayed communication (I was out of town for a couple of weeks and missed her calls) caused the figs to waste. Whatever the cause, I did not can many of the first picking.

Whatever, those first fig 2014  turned out to be perfectly thick light brown (honey colored) preserves. They are tasty (there is often little bit that won't fit in the last jar that is sampled by the cook.). The jars all sealed perfectly. I only wrote "2014" on the lids and set them out-of-the-way on the shelf to clear the counter for the next round of canning.

And this weekend I am tackling the second picking - and these figs are beautiful. If the preserves aren't "right" it is all me.

During fig season I can reach a point where my fingers are raw, my back and feet hurt, and I start to wonder if this job will ever end. I am not there yet this season, but as I removed stems and sorted figs the pile never seemed to diminish. It was a never-ending box of figs mocking me for a few hours.

Now there are four batches of figs (of different sizes) sugared and waiting for the canning equipment to come out of the sterilizing run of the dishwasher. A handful of figs were selected for a friend who always says, "Just give me four figs." I saved a few out for me too, but I will have to wait until tomorrow. I have already eaten enough figs today.

And that is new for me. I have never really liked plain figs very much. I like preserves (of course - sweet-on-sweet). But these perfect figs as much as challenged me, "Go ahead. Eat me." The skins were so tender that I decided to try canning most of this second picking with skin on - just stemming and cutting them in half.

I have filled (or dirtied) every glass bowl in the kitchen. I have filled the refrigerator with glass bowls full of figs-in-sugar.  There are a few pounds of figs left (mocking me) in the last clean bowl, waiting for me.

But I needed to sit down, rest my back, and plan the assault of the canning jar.

I also realized I needed to add - figs are not just my connection with Mom and Grandma - they are a connection with many southern women - mostly Texas women. I was reminded about my Aunt C who brought me fig preserves the last time I saw her.* "I know your mother always made these and thought you might like to have them," she said.  And I was reminded of Mrs. R, our neighbor, who was a true southern lady (she came to "call" when we first moved here) and who appreciated a jar or two of fig preserves each year. There are others. They will come. I have hours more ahead of me in the kitchen - thinking of nothing and everything as I watch the figs boil.

Ah, I hear the silence that means the dishwasher is done. It is time to return to the kitchen and finish up the second figs.

And I must confess, I told the fig lady that I would take more figs should she have them and have no one else in line for them. It is, after all, a good year for figs.** And you never know what next summer will bring.

NOTES:

* What a dear and wonderful woman! The family was all together for the funeral of my uncle/her brother-in-law/my father's baby brother. [It is a shame that we only seem to see each other at funerals.] I brought small bags of peaches for my aunts and cousins. And then Aunt C brought out two big jars of figs, one for me and one for my sister. She had stayed up the night before to make them for us.

**I have had a few "new" people disclose that they like figs. I may need to make a few more jars.