Look, figs!
This is my way of apologising
to you (person who has stuck around in my absence) and to The Littlest Anchovy:
my little home on the web, my inspiration and my neglected offspring (of
sorts).
Amongst other things,
I recently started studying at night. The last time I was a student (apart from
a semester of basic Spanish six years ago) we were all freaking out about
technology turning on us and Cher taught us to believe in life after love with
her innovative voice manipulating skills. The Blair Witch Project was
(and remains) the scariest movie I have ever seen and I was drinking Midori with
lemonade - I also thought Gin tasted like poison.
If I haven’t painted
a vivid enough picture, let’s just say that it was a long time ago.
I have had some
teething problems trying to fit everything together in my life. I was somewhat
prepared for it but I was not ready for the fear of losing something dear to me
by not visiting here as often as I would like.
To that end, I have
brought you some figs that I manipulated like Cher’s voice in that 1999 anthem
that I loved back in the day.
Like Cher’s voice in
the song, the flavours twist and turn but there is no mistaking that they are a
celebration of the original.
I am dead-set
certain that these figs would not have come to be if it were not for The
Littlest Anchovy.
If I had never
started this blog, I would not have developed the intuition to know that resting
sliced figs on a bed of rosemary and thyme before cooking them would ensure
that the flavour of the herbs would softly infuse the figs.
I would never have
had the inclination to generously drizzle them with honey and balsamic vinegar
and gently roast them until they were caramelised yet still held their shape. I
would never have thought of figs as something that could be savoury and can be
at home on a cheese board or rested upon goat’s cheese and toasted baguette.
And I absolutely would never have volunteered to make something for a friend’s cocktail party – which is where these figs were devoured.
And I absolutely would never have volunteered to make something for a friend’s cocktail party – which is where these figs were devoured.
The Littlest Anchovy
has developed my intuition in the kitchen and in other areas of my life; it has
given me confidence and an arsenal of go-to recipes. In a roundabout way, it
has inspired me to better myself by going back to study something that I have
wanted to do in a long time.
So I am prepared to
juggle – I might drop the ball now and then but I promise that I will never be
far away - and I will never mention Midori and Lemonade again.
But there will be Gin.
These figs are also perfect paired with a
blue or goats cheese as part of a cheese board.
Makes 32 pieces of bruschetta
8 large, ripe figs
quartered lengthwise.
1 bunch rosemary
1 bunch thyme
Balsamic vinegar
Honey of your choice
1 log of goats
cheese
1.5 baguettes cut into
rounds about 1cm thick.
Extra Virgin Olive
Oil
Truffle salt or sea
salt - optional
Preheat oven to 150C
Layer the rosemary
and thyme over the base of a large baking tray. Place the figs, cut side up
onto the herbs in once layer.
Drizzle the honey
and balsamic vinegar over the figs – do not drench the figs.
Bake for around an
hour before transferring the figs to a plate and bringing them to room temperature. Make sure you spoon some of the syrup that has collected under the herbs over the figs!
Toast the bread
lightly on both sides and spread about a teaspoon of goat’s cheese on each piece.
Top each bruschetta with a fig and top the figs with a few droplets of extra
virgin olive oil and a small pinch of salt.