As in "fig, you send me," or, "fig you for giving me all of this jam." (Well, preserves, technically, but it doesn't match the meter.) Today I put up 14 half-pints, (that's 8 pints in the plus size), of old-fashioned fig preserves, using fruit from the generations-old tree in our postage stamp of a back yard. It's not often we get to claim farm to table here in the city, and when we can, we like to brag about it.
Yes, I beat the birds, (the Crows, especially, are evil bastards), to them this year, and the result is sweet. Literally, inspired as I was to dust off a recipe from a previous post, reinvent it for the current crop, and share the results with y'all.
I'm not going into the particulars of canning here. I assume you can (pun intended, in fact, all of them are), or can get to a web page that will lay out the basics. So let's get to it.
Eat these with White Lily biscuits. Scones are also naturals, as is plain buttered toast or a flaky, fresh-baked croissant. Use some as a glaze on roasted Cornish Game Hens, and cry like a baby.
ANNIE'S FIG PRESERVES
(makes about 15 half-pints)
6 pounds fresh, ripe, unpeeled figs (any variety)
5 pounds granulated sugar
3 large lemons, very thinly sliced, seeds removed
Wash and stem the figs. Place figs in a large non-reactive container, (I use a huge Tupperware bowl that looks like hell, and is old as death), smash them up a little, and pour the sugar over them. Cover and let stand at room temperature overnight.
Transfer fig and sugar mixture to a large saucepan or Dutch oven, (minimum 8 quart capacity), breaking figs up slightly. Add lemon
slices, and cook over medium heat until sugar is dissolved.
Reduce heat to low, and cook until figs are transparent and the syrup is thick about 2 hours, stirring often to prevent sticking.
Remove from heat, funnel into hot, sterilized jars and seal. Process jars in boiling water for 10 minutes. Allow to cool in water for 5 minutes. Using jar lifter, gently lift jars from water, and allow them to rest on the counter or in a cool, dry place for a few hours or overnight. ('Cause they're just plum tuckered out, you know.)
Now, scrape the bottom of the pot with a spatula, and enjoy the leftovers with a sop and a spoon.
