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Рецепт Fig Fest 2009
by Elizabeth Bard

Every year around this time I stage my own mini Figapalooza. I don’t know why I feel my private fruit festival should be named after the kind of musical event I never even close to attended. (I once took a Megadeath loving boyfriend to see Boris Godunov, and in college I drank little bottles of gold-flecked Jägermeister instead of beer at a Phish concert, which I think tells you something about my knowledge of rock concert etiquette.)

Back to my figs. Truly, I have never found anything more perfect to do with a fresh fig than eat it straight out of the paper bag on the way back from the market. But they can’t all go that way. So they end up gracing salads, garnishing deserts, placed on coffee saucers like bon bons – anywhere I can stick a fig – a fig is stuck.

This kind of raw consumption is handy for the quickie lunches I’ve been making lately – particularly autumn salads. While juggling baby, visiting parents, marketing brainstorms and a new book proposal, I’m trying desperately to preserve the French tradition of eating real meals. A big beautiful salad is my best solution. This month, heads of red Bibb lettuce, tart apples, pine nuts, goat cheese toasts, hard boiled eggs, pesto chicken breast, and dill-tossed avocados have all made their way into the shallow, bone china bowl I prefer. I keep meaning to buy chicken livers (figs and liver, yum). All to be topped, bien sur with slices of deep purple fig. It’s sometimes the only civilized thing I manage to do for myself all day. (That, and a quick sneak into the bathtub while Augustin is napping.

Our new friend Amanda came for dinner on Sunday night. Whenever she visits from NY, she is my junk food fairy - this trip, she came bearing candy dots - the tiny kind stuck to the paper strip. My mother once sent me a care package at boarding school with a whole roll of these. My RA was impressed. My mother must be very cool to send candy laced with LSD. (How was I to know? My knowledge of drug etiquette is right up there with the rock concerts).

When Augustin was born, Amanda sent over an Obama onesie. Fist raised, he is clearly a supporter. We waited until just before she arrived to put it on - enough people having been shitting on the president this month, no reason for our son to add to the pile.

I made rabbit with hard cider and honey and a celery root mash. For dessert, slices of fresh figs dressed up these spicy chocolate pots. I used my basic chocolate custard (a riff on Nigella Lawson - my favorite high sass/low maintenance hausfrau), but I wanted a bit of a kick, so I infused the milk with a teaspoon of Raz el Hanout - a melange of spices used in North African cooking. The result was a rich chocolate cream with a hint of pepper, cardamon and clove. Served in espresso cups with tiny silver spoons (thank you, mother), it was an elegant dessert with a minimum of fuss.

Put the raz el hanout in a coffee filter and staple it shut. Heat the milk, cream and raz-el-hanout to just below boiling, then turn off the heat an leave to infuse for a few minutes. Remove the coffee filter, reheat the milk to just below boiling; add the chocolate, stir to combine.

In a small bowl, lightly beat the egg with a fork. Pour into the chocolate mixture and whisk immediately until combined. Fill 6 espresso cups, chill for a few hours of overnight. Remove from the fridge 10 or 15 minutes before serving. Serve with a tiny silver spoon and a few slices of fresh figs on the saucer.

Serves 6