Julia, thanks for another great recipe. The tart sounds delicious. As for its provenance, however, Tarte Bourdaloue may well have made its way to the Périgord but it originated in Paris, at a patisserie on the Rue Bourdaloue in the ninth arrondissement. According to Wikipedia, tarte Bourdaloue was invented in the 1850s by a pastry chef named Monsieur Fasquelle whose shop was on that street. According to lore, Proust was a fan. I discovered this tart (the pear version, not the fig) back in the 1970s when a man who was courting me brought one over in what turned out to be a successful attempt at seduction. I've been in love with it ever since...
What a wonderful correction - and even better anecdote! How many men know to seduce a woman with food not flowers? I notice you've been in love with 'it' but not 'him' ever since...
I love everything about figs. Their flavour, their colour, their sensuous shape. But so do the wasps. Fortunately, we've managed a compromise. The wasps let me gorge myself silly until I can't stomach any more then I buzz off and they have their share.
Over time, I've come down in favour of the white ones, not least because they offer a second go at figs before the season is over again.After that's it's over to dried figs, poached in tea...till the next year.
Julia‘s posts are always such a pleasure and fun to read! As a child in Moscow playgrounds I made an early encounter with „idi na fig“ loosely translatable as f#$k off. In our climate fig leaves only grew on statues in Pushkin museum and I was left puzzled about the connection. In my adult years I became a passionate but still clueless figophile and am now thrilled to try trace the linguistic trail from the warmer but apparently equally rough-languaged Spanish courtyards to Russia.
On gastronomic side, I‘d like to mention the fig mustard popular in the Dolomites that makes a lovely addition to a cheese platter.
What a wonderful picture you paint! Ah, those playgrounds. Sigh. I'd no idea 'that' insult had spread to Russia...I'm tickled pink you like Tabled - and I will look out for fig mustard (must also be good with ham?). I'm only familiar with the fig jam that goes not just with goats' cheeses but with foie gras - artisanally/sort of more kindly produced and before it's forbidden forever, of course...
Every year, BC, we went to a conference in Estoril, Portugal, the end of June. Every year, I would pass by a fig tree, laden with fruit, not ripe yet- the top of the tree, on a lower level to our walkway, was within easy reach as we passed by. Would it be too crazy to fly there, just to pick the fruit when it was ripe? Great post, as always and ready to go buy some figs at the Publix, where they don't charge you for bags, you have your choice of plastic or paper, they bag your groceries and walk you out to your car, no tipping please! This late bit is for my Euro friends, whom I shall join shortly and go back to bag -yourself- shopping -hell.
I'd fly anywhere that doesn't demand self-isolation for a gorging on figs! I think they're my favourite fruit. Specially with slivers of the driest goats cheese discs I can find. I miss grocery baggers...but with the UK unable to find people to harvest crops or drive produce to the markets and stores, the likelihood of staffing bagging stations is low. You talk of Publix's plastic bags. Why haven't they abandoned those - or are they quickly biodegradable?
Julia, thanks for another great recipe. The tart sounds delicious. As for its provenance, however, Tarte Bourdaloue may well have made its way to the Périgord but it originated in Paris, at a patisserie on the Rue Bourdaloue in the ninth arrondissement. According to Wikipedia, tarte Bourdaloue was invented in the 1850s by a pastry chef named Monsieur Fasquelle whose shop was on that street. According to lore, Proust was a fan. I discovered this tart (the pear version, not the fig) back in the 1970s when a man who was courting me brought one over in what turned out to be a successful attempt at seduction. I've been in love with it ever since...
What a wonderful correction - and even better anecdote! How many men know to seduce a woman with food not flowers? I notice you've been in love with 'it' but not 'him' ever since...
I love everything about figs. Their flavour, their colour, their sensuous shape. But so do the wasps. Fortunately, we've managed a compromise. The wasps let me gorge myself silly until I can't stomach any more then I buzz off and they have their share.
Over time, I've come down in favour of the white ones, not least because they offer a second go at figs before the season is over again.After that's it's over to dried figs, poached in tea...till the next year.
Julia‘s posts are always such a pleasure and fun to read! As a child in Moscow playgrounds I made an early encounter with „idi na fig“ loosely translatable as f#$k off. In our climate fig leaves only grew on statues in Pushkin museum and I was left puzzled about the connection. In my adult years I became a passionate but still clueless figophile and am now thrilled to try trace the linguistic trail from the warmer but apparently equally rough-languaged Spanish courtyards to Russia.
On gastronomic side, I‘d like to mention the fig mustard popular in the Dolomites that makes a lovely addition to a cheese platter.
What a wonderful picture you paint! Ah, those playgrounds. Sigh. I'd no idea 'that' insult had spread to Russia...I'm tickled pink you like Tabled - and I will look out for fig mustard (must also be good with ham?). I'm only familiar with the fig jam that goes not just with goats' cheeses but with foie gras - artisanally/sort of more kindly produced and before it's forbidden forever, of course...
Every year, BC, we went to a conference in Estoril, Portugal, the end of June. Every year, I would pass by a fig tree, laden with fruit, not ripe yet- the top of the tree, on a lower level to our walkway, was within easy reach as we passed by. Would it be too crazy to fly there, just to pick the fruit when it was ripe? Great post, as always and ready to go buy some figs at the Publix, where they don't charge you for bags, you have your choice of plastic or paper, they bag your groceries and walk you out to your car, no tipping please! This late bit is for my Euro friends, whom I shall join shortly and go back to bag -yourself- shopping -hell.
I'd fly anywhere that doesn't demand self-isolation for a gorging on figs! I think they're my favourite fruit. Specially with slivers of the driest goats cheese discs I can find. I miss grocery baggers...but with the UK unable to find people to harvest crops or drive produce to the markets and stores, the likelihood of staffing bagging stations is low. You talk of Publix's plastic bags. Why haven't they abandoned those - or are they quickly biodegradable?