Probably sounds very Mediterranean but this modest offering was the sole produce retrieved today from the few fruit trees we have growing on the Mid North Coast of NSW. And I mean the sole produce. While there was other fruit on the trees none of it ripened while we were there.
The fig was beautifully ripe, full of flavour and perfect to behold. In the past I have wondered why Eve wasn’t tempted by the fig rather than the apple. A much more suitable fruit to go along with the story of seduction.
Anyway, with only one fig to savour I thought it best to eat it without too much adornment. So I served it with good prosciutto and some endive with balsamic dressing. Adam would have been impressed I imagine.
The pomegranate wasn’t quite ripe when it was knocked off its woody stem by a speeding ride-on lawn mower. One of the many the hazards of country life.
I am hoping that a few days in a warm place in the kitchen might plump up its ruby jewels. Ripe enough or not, it too is a wonderful thing to behold.
Thinking about this classic fruit reminds me of an anecdote from a tour guide when we were in China. He was telling us that the pomegranate with its hundreds of arils containing the vital seeds is the symbol of fertility for the Chinese. He then wryly commented that it should be the avocado.
Caren