Archive for March, 2010

Will Run For Figs

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on March 27, 2010 by thepseudoepicurean

Fig Tree

Image taken from

Lately I discovered something new about myself – I love figs. Not just any figs, but the kind that came straight off the tree from a little old Italian grandma’s garden. There is something about a perfectly ripened fig that is sooooo satisfying that it almost sends shivers up my spine, the thrill that comes with tearing it open, waiting for the moment of truth to prevail – whether or not you’d picked a perfect fig.

Then you pop it into your mouth and all of a sudden there’s a party going on in there! I’ve likened it to a cross between a watermelon and a strawberry – jammy, soft and almost mushy, suspiciously seedy, and most of all INSANELY SWEET! Look ma, I just ate a flower!

Somewhere along the trail that the Jman and I frequently run sits a grandiose-looking fig tree. God knows how old it really is because it’s a massive tree, and since the summer days it has been our pit-stop each time we run. It was from that tree that I tasted my first hand-picked fig, and there’s been no turning back ever since. I suppose I will now have to shamefully admit that we’ve been hanging around the tree and spying the figs, and on a number of occasions helped ourselves to the rare (because I’m certain that there’s an old Italian man lurking somewhere in the bushes picking the good ones while we’re at work!), perfectly-ripened fig before running away gleefully like giggly (but guilty) schoolkids. *hangs head in shame*

These days, the fig tree is the only thing that gets me excited about running. Waking up this morning to go for a run was all of a chore until the husband drew the fig tree trump card. “But there’s the fig tree, darling”, he persuaded as I stubbornly refused to budge from under the covers. And it wasn’t much longer before I found myself lacing up my runners and pounding the trails. The tree gave us 2 figs today. And there were another 3 that we purchased with a gold coin from a cafe we had breakfast in, incidentally from an old, little Italian man’s garden.

Ah, to have my very own fig tree one day…but for now I will still have to run for my figs.