Well, actually, I really, really want to give a fig – lots of them in fact. I’ve got about 4 varieties of fig tree in the garden and, due to the early rain and late heat (probably) we are having a better than usual second crop.
Problem is nobody likes them but me, the chickens and one of the dogs.
The trouble is, I only like them fresh, so I don’t want to make jam or chutney or dry them. Also, you have to pick them when they are completely ripe – I don’t believe they continue ripening once picked – so, to get them when they are really jammy inside, which is the only time they are worth eating in my opinion, you have to compete with the wasps, give up on the ones really high up and gorge yourself all at once.
I think Mr. T. took against them after a couple of summers ago when, on a very hot day, he pruned one of the trees not realising that the sap can be very harmful on the skin. It was a day or so later that he began to itch on his upper arm and it really flared up. He still has the scar. We looked it up on the internet and there were some really scary photographs of a man in Greece who had pruned quite a few trees on a hot day and he was covered in scars.
Off to slice one or two up with some goats cheese for lunch.