Fig: The harbinger of autumn

When August rolls over and September begins, fall weather is upon us. The sudden rains pour, the dry leaves start to gently fall and the first whiff of coolness is felt after the heavy humid summer heat. As summer is slowly waning, it is the prime time for figs. In ancient Rome, they used to call this first feeling of autumn weather “Prima ficus,” literally meaning “The first fig!” It is not only the Romans who felt this way. In Arabic, the fig is sometimes referred to as “Kharif,” the word for fall harvest. It means that if the fig is at its peak, summer is on its way out. It is as if the honey-sweet figs have absorbed all the energy of the summer sun, and when figs are in their full ripeness, the duties of sunrays are over and the weather may get colder. September is usually associated with melancholy. There is a saying in Turkish that figs are the harbinger of fall, so there is a dash of September sadness that sets in with figs.

Honey bombs

The best time for figs is the second half of August and the first half of September. Figs are literally like little bombs of honey in their full ripeness. There is a tongue twister saying in Turkish to describe this intense sweetness: “Dal ucu torbacık; içi dolu helvacık!” that can be translated best as “Twig tip baggy; full of halva sweetie!” Of course, not all figs are the same. There are so many fig varieties in Türkiye that differ in size, color and the intensity of sweetness. Many are so delicate for transportation that they are only available locally in fresh form, otherwise they are dried under the last scorching rays of sunshine to be nibbled as an energy boost during the cold weather months. The world-famous variety comes from Aydın province in the Aegean region, which is globally recognized as Smyrna figs, as they were shipped from the port of Smyrna, today’s Izmir. Smyrna figs have a peculiar lifecycle. In order to reproduce, they need the co-existence of two elements: firstly, another fig species known as Caprifig, and secondly, an insect known as the fig wasp. The Symyrna fig can only bear fruit if there is a caprifig tree nearby. Now recognized as caprification, the pollination is achieved by the help of the fig wasp, a tiny fly that hatches in the caprifig fruit and eventually passes on to the Smyrna figs carrying the pollens on their miniscule bodies. Observing this phenomenon, people eventually developed the practice of hanging a caprifig branch to the Smyrna fig tree to facilitate the cross-pollination process. The co-existence of these two fig trees and the love of the fig fly for both of them is what gifts us with the sweet goodness.

Smyrna figs had been a hit in the U.S. market in the late 19th century. Agriculturists even tried to replicate and produce this fig in California, naming the hybrid variety Calimyrna, combining California and Smyrna. However, no matter how much they try to copy Aydın figs, they can never reach the level of intensity in sweetness elsewhere. When it comes to sweetness, there are so many other fig varieties in Türkiye that exceed the Smyrna figs in terms of sugar level. For example, in Şırnak, a province at the southeastern tip of Türkiye, just north of Iraq, there is the Silopi Behnat fig, which has received a geographical indication registration this year. This variety is so small that it is like a droplet of honey, no more than four centimeters in width and length. These tiny figs with honey-yellow skin and pinkish flesh are extremely hard to transport, even from the tree to the local market, they need extra care to be carried. They are carefully cradled on vine leaves lining a flat straw basket with fragrant wild mint sprigs a flavor cross between mint, basil and marjoram, but alas they will only last from the branch to the marketplace, not fit for a long journey unless dried. Similarly, Midyat figs, another local geographically listed fig variety which are a tad larger but still taste like honey, are just as delicate. They both deserve the metaphor “honey bomb” or the tongue twister “Twig tip baggy; full of halva sweetie!” hanging like a sticky sack from the fig branch, filled to the brim with nectar.

Allure of the Leaf

The taste of figs might be reminiscent of honey, but there is another element of attractiveness in the fig. It is also all about the perfume of its leaves, the scent that seduces people. Fig leaves are not used much in our kitchen. In some regions, fig leaves are placed on boiled milk to ferment the milk to make yogurt. In countries like Italy and France, it is widely used in cheese making. Small round goat cheeses are wrapped in fig leaves and stored, both the flavor of the leaf, reminiscent of unripe green figs, passes on to the cheese and acts as a preservative packaging. A novel delight that chefs have been exploring in recent years is fig leaf oil, encapsulating its alluring aroma in the most intense way possible. The oil is not actually extracted directly from the leaves, but the leaves are infused in low temperatures in extra virgin olive oil to lock in the wonderful scent. The combination of olive oil and the fragrant scent of the figs creates a unique combo of Aegean flavors. Osman Sezener, a Michelin-starred chef from Urla, Izmir, has been a pioneer in using this duo of flavors, the first and only chef as far as I know in the country to produce and use fig oil. The chef who also possesses a Green-Michelin star macerates fig leaves from his restaurant OdUrla’s own garden, in his own olive oil from the olive groves surrounding the heavenly set property. The alluring taste of fig oil pairs perfectly with the fresh cheese from OdUrla farm. The magical fragrance of figs creates not only a play in both the tongue and nose, but also creates a visual feast with its deep emerald green, a jewel for all senses.