A few months ago I had an insatiable hunger for figs. I had never eaten a fresh fig before, but I just got it in my head that I needed to eat one.
I blame this poem (a favorite for years that is almost always in my ear):
Figs
[by Erica Jong]
Italians know
how to call a fig
a fig: fica.
Mandolin-shaped fruit,
feminine as seeds,
amber or green
and bearing large leaves
to clothe our nakedness.
I believe it was
not an apple but a fig
Lucifer gave Eve,
knowing she would find
a fellow feeling
in this female fruit
and knowing also
that Adam would
lose himself
in the fig’s fertile heart
whatever the price—
God’s wrath, expulsion
angry angels
pointing with swords
to a world of woe.
One bite into
a ripe fig
is worth worlds
and worlds and worlds
beyond the green
of Eden.
So how did they taste? Lol
So good! I went back to the store and got more every day until they stopped carrying them. I liked the green ones the best!