No Figs

Pasquale Cusano said to me, "How can you have a fig tree? You're not Italian."

If I had thought quickly, I could have said, "Signor, considering the number of times fig trees are mentioned in the Bible, the fig tree is probably more Israeli than Italian."

But yes, there was a fig tree in the yard, purchased and planted by son Christopher. It joined other fruit-bearing trees and bushes--peach, apple, pear, plum, raspberry and bramble berry. A very elderly Italian gentleman used to come down the lane and gather pears that had fallen. A neighbor made a lovely rose-tinted wine from the plums.

And now in the midst of our near Mediterranean summer, the figs are ripe, and it is time to enjoy them with honey-drizzled ricotta and mint leaves, or grilled, splashed with pomegranate syrup and served with chèvre on the side.

And "No Figs"? That's the title of a classic recording made around 1950 by the Metronome All-Stars. Good jazz, but we have, happily, plenty of figs.