It's fig season!
The first figs have just started to appear on the market stands. Sweet and ripe, they wave from their little baskets at me passing by, and I just can't resist their call.
As a child, the only figs we ate were grandma's figs – those growing on her tree. I remember them being ripe and ready in early September. They were small and pale green on the outside, but very red and pulpy inside, and as sweet and jammy as they get.
She had so many that it was impossible for us to eat them all before they turned too ripe, so we came up with all kind of recipes to consume them. I liked them with yogurt and honey, or simply baked with some nuts and a scoop of vanilla bean ice-cream. We also made a lot of jams. It was the most summery thing ever.
