No sooner had we poured ourselves some wine and ordered lunch at a neighborhood cafe when the waiter plopped a bottle of ketchup on the table. Twenty years ago this gesture would have been a ‘put-down’ reserved for American tourists. Today ketchup arrives with everyones order of pommes frites.
Even a diner accustomed to reading menus in French will reach for their copy of LaRousse when fig clafoutis appears on a dessert list. There’s no shame in that. The clafoutis, a spinoff of the rustic Limousin flognard, hasn't been popular in restaurants for more than a century. Like most site-specific dishes, this crustless custard baked in a shallow tart mold was designed to showcase a tiny, heart-shaped cherry, coeur de pigeon (pigeon heart). This rustic dish studded with unpitted cherries evolved into a fashionable fruit-filled pudding with an Occitan name in the 19th century.
The first tours I led to France in the 1990’s took us into the Limousin heartland with its rolling hills of orchards, grazing animals and ancient forests. We prepared our first flognard with raspberries in the spacious kitchen at Chateau de Sannat where we lived an idyllic life and cooked with provisions from the central market in Limoges. Every summer tour since then has included this simple dessert with whatever fruit was ripest at that moment.
These pleasures were far from my thoughts last week as I entered my local supermarket at 7 am wearing face mask and gloves. Suddenly, there they were in the display case: a carton full of ripe figs. One look at those plump, beauties brought back memories of serving roasted whole figs on a goat cheese salad in our Paris apartment, sautéing figs to garnish duck breast in a Luberon vineyard setting and, yes, baking fig clafoutis in Uzes.
A clafoutis made with figs has great eye appeal and harbors a fascinating story of plant and insect coevolution. The fig fruit's petals are on the inside and serve as a nesting place for designated fig wasp eggs the contents of which hatch, pollinate the fig’s seeds and depart through the furry-looking passage in its base. I couldn’t make up a story this amazing. For those who worry about eating the remains of male fig wasps, the fruit produces a natural enzyme, ficain, which dissolves them before they arrive in our kitchens.
Assembling a fig clafoutis takes about as long as it takes for your oven to reach 400 degrees. The custard is the consistency of a crêpe batter which has a similar composition. I make it first and let it rest while preparing the fruit. You may want to substitute a flavored liquor or fruit brandy that matches the stone fruit or berry you are using. Clafoutis are also wonderful in winter filled with pears or apples. Enjoy!
Ingredients for 8 servings:
9 12 fresh figs
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons Port
Custard:
2 teaspoons each unsalted butter and sugar (for the mold)
3 large eggs at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
6 tablespoons unbleached flour, sifted
1 1/2 cups milk
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Generously butter and sugar a 1-1/2 quart baking dish.
Blend the eggs in an electric mixer until frothy. Gradually add the sugar, flour and milk. Mix well, for 2 minutes. Let this batter rest while preparing the figs.
Trim off tough stem end of the figs, quarter each and place in a bowl. Sprinkle fruit with sugar and Port. Toss occasionally while assembling the other ingredients.
Distribute the fig pieces evenly over the bottom of the baking dish. Spoon the batter over the fruit. If you have extra batter, add it after the pudding has been in the oven for 10 minutes.
Bake for 30 minutes or until the custard is set and lightly browned. Cool on a rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Ripe figs are irresistible. They are in our markets now, boxed like chocolates, each one nestled in its own berth. Who could guess that their tender purple skin covers a riot of strawberry-red strands that are sweet and as fragrant as a flower? In fact, the fig is filled with tiny flowers turned outside in. Its pollination story is one of nature’s stranger things.
A tiny female fig wasp is tasked with laying its eggs inside an undeveloped female fig by entering the apex on the underside of the fruit. The wasp also carries pollen that fertilizes the fig's ovaries and it ripens to maturity. When the wasp eggs hatch in the fig, a new generation of female wasps, fertilized by the males among them, leave the fig through paths forged by their wingless brothers to continue the cycle. Yes, there are figs of both sexes on a fig tree, but no, the male figs do not develop when pollinated by a wasp, nor can they leave a female fig after fertilizing their sisters. Nature reverses gender roles with impunity. The fig then produces an enzyme that dissolves wasp remains leaving the fruit succulent, ready to eat by all but the most devout vegans.
Don't let this amazing story deter you from eating figs. The commercially grown figs we purchase in the grocery have been pollinated with a hormone spray. An adventurous eater must pick and eat a ripe fig from a roadside tree to experience a wasp-pollinated fruit and wonder at what has transpired to create it.
The figs age quickly once I bring them home, faster than I can eat them. I quickly preserve at least half of them in a light sugar syrup. They cook in ten minutes, and an immersion blender turns their highly fibrous interior to a pudding-like consistency. Small amounts of powdered cinnamon, ginger and star anise, stirred into the cooked figs, add an exotic aroma. When I can resist consuming fig jam out of the jar, I serve it with breakfast breads and cheeses.
FIG JAM
Ingredients for 2 cups:
1 cup water
1/3 cup sugar
1-pound ripe black mission figs (9-10)
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon, ginger and star anise
Bring the water and sugar to a simmer in a saucepan, stirring in the sugar to help it dissolve. Trim the stem end and halve the figs before adding them to the simmering syrup. Partially cover the pot and maintain a slow simmer for ten minutes or until the figs are soft.
Remove the fruit pieces with a strainer and reduce the syrup to ½ cup. Stir the spices into the hot syrup and pour them over the fruit. Puree the mixture and pour into clean jars. Store in the refrigerator between uses and consume within two weeks.
But I have plenty of memories. I will relive my favorite French meals as I review my photographs in the coming months. They are a visual diary from which I’ve chosen a few notable examples to share with you. (Warning: Read after eating.)
