Issue 3: A figtastic Summer!

Gallery: A Summer of figs!

The fig season is in FULL SWING down under, with our favourite fruit at its juciest and most affordable! Here are some snapshots of unfettered fig joy from my friends, family, and around the country:

She Who Tastes, Knows

Among the very thoughtful birthday gifts I received, fig patriot Hollie B. gave me the new memoir from Afghani-Australian cook Durkhanai Ayubi (at whose Adelaide establishment I was lucky enough to once try Ashak - delicate dumplings stuffed with leek and drizzled with a savoury lamb sauce). Not only does it feature a beautiful fig-centric cover, but the book’s last chapter is themed around the humble fig. I loved the evocative prose and reading about the special place that figs hold for Afghanis:

Poetry competition: Winner announced!

We received several fantastic entries to our inaugural fig poetry competition, all blind-judged by fig literato Keith H. Our esteemed judge - more accustomed to reading high school English assignments - was wowed by the literary skill on display. Ultimately, first prize was awarded to……….… figlet Moein G.!!! 🎉 Controversially, the winning entry centres on the gorgeous (but non-edible) Moreton Bay fig. Stay tuned for more content on these iconic Aussie trees in future editions, but for now, I leave you with the winning poem:

Moein will be receiving this gorgeous hand-drawn illustration, generously donated by fig artist extraordinaire Marty S.B.

Art Corner

First, an art history contribution from figxpert Tim P., PhD:

It was an honour to be invited to contribute an article to this excellent newsletter. Thank you, Editor! Let’s consider the art of still life and take a look at one shining fig in a curious painting…

The work below was created in The Netherlands at the end of the seventeenth century, and I think it’s beautiful and strange. Amongst artists and scholars, still life has a reputation for being inscrutable and semiotically ambiguous, due in part to the sheer diversity of its cultural and technical forms. For much of history, still life was unfairly overlooked, and it wasn’t until the late eighteenth century that it was deemed a legitimate branch of painting worthy of scholarship within Western art discourse. Initially occupying the lowest rank of importance (beneath portraiture, landscape and history painting), still life began to transform at the beginning of the modern period, as artists of the avant-garde seized the artform for the very purpose of corrupting its perceived ‘banality’. But still life paintings are rarely truly banal.

Mortel’s small painting, which fetched €37,500 at a Christie’s auction in 2014, is a fantasy. It’s a vision of Italy as dreamt up in a dark, cold room in South Holland (the artist spent his entire career in Leiden). The depicted scenario, with its warm twilight glow, park landscape, cypress, and couple (lovers?) strolling in the distance, appears conspicuously artificial, and this extends to the fig. I’m not an expert on the fruit, but I can’t recall ever seeing one so shiny. Aren’t they velvety? The structure of the pulp doesn’t feel totally logical, either. The Editor has told me that figs were unlikely to be grown in seventeenth-century Holland, so one can only assume that this one was constructed imaginatively from verbal descriptions delivered to Mortel by a more intrepid artist – or perhaps he read about them in an encyclopedia. In my view, these fanciful qualities are the most interesting part, as art is always preferable to reality.

And now, fast-forwarding to the present, some lovely reflections from amateur fig illustrator Caro B.:

This week, as part of my self-curated summer school program of  creative exercise, I have been drawing anything and everything that catches my eye. First it was scissors, satisfying an attraction with blades, handles and  hinges. Then it was cherries, with their sexy gloss and sheen - a challenge for a beginner who has not yet learned how to represent light or mastered shading. 

Now, I have settled on drawing figs. I love everything about them. Their shape is so pleasing in the hand. They sit upright, pertly inviting.

But over several days of contemplation they present unforeseen challenges: they ripen too fast, even when I put them in the fridge overnight to arrest their decay. Their aroma,  as their sugars ferment, reminds me of Cezanne’s studio outside Aix en Provence which is scented by a bowl of slowly decomposing apples, just like the ones in his most famous still-lifes.

The thing about figs is that as they age, their form alters. They subside slightly into a lopsided slump that suggests their once firm interior has gone jammy. Previously vertical, they’ve now collapsed on to their squishy sides, lying like wounded creatures. Their dappled spheres have become uneven blobs that leave traces of juice on the plate, bleeding out slowly.

So the first lesson of drawing a fig is to draw it quickly.  And then eat it.

Fig recipe: Ricotta & fig tart

This issue features another dish I’m yet to make, but whose creator I have full confidence in! Today’s recipe comes from The Coastal Italian, who runs incredible pasta workshops here in Sydney.

Method: Place flour, baking powder, and butter in a bowl. Use fingertips to pinch the butter and flour together until mixed. Add icing sugar and mix until evenly combined. Knead egg yolks into the mixture until smooth dough is formed. Wrap in cling wrap and let rest for 45-60 mins in the fridge. Meanwhile, whisk together ricotta, lemon zest, and icing sugar in a bowl until smooth. Preheat oven to 160ºC (fan-forced). Remove dough from fridge, place between 2 sheets of baking paper, and roll out to 3-4mm thick. Lightly grease a tart tin with butter, and put pastry sheet into the tin, cutting off any overhanging dough. Puncture the base with a fork, before pouring in ricotta mix, and topping with fig slices. Cook for 25-30 mins or until pastry is golden.