Cornetto vegetale

[From Friday]

This is what I had for breakfast today:

The bulb-shaped fruit is essentially a giant fig.  You peel back the outer layer, and then eat the inside, which is a pale beige color with numerous tiny dark seeds, has a consistency something like pumpkin guts crossed with strawberry jam, and resembles nothing so much as a sea urchin turned outside-in.  But—and you’ll just have to trust me on this, since they’re too delicate to travel long distances—the taste!  Madonna mia.  Suffice it to say that the taste is enough to override any and all qualms you might have had about eating something that looks like a sea urchin.  The taste is reminiscent of regular figs, but milder and more delicate—I don’t remember whether I’ve ever had a fresh fig before, but I imagine drying them intensifies the taste.  Think of the difference between a fresh apricot and a dried one.  These giant figs are just sweet enough without being overly so, and surprisingly filling.  One of these and a mug of tea is easily a full breakfast.  They also work nicely as dessert.

Salvatore Micciché, our landlord-cum-adoptive-uncle, invited us over to his house the other night, where we met his wife (who’s name I really should remember, but don’t.  I’ve me a lot of people in the past week) and got a tour of the house (which they built themselves).  We wound up sitting around their kitchen table over the giant figs (from a tree in their yard) followed by coffee ice cream followed by limoncello, talking until well after midnight, at which point it was all I could do not to fall asleep into my limoncello glass.  They sent us home with bundles of salvia, mint, and rosemary, several bottles of fresh spring water from their well (the tap water here is too-something to drink, maybe too chalky?), and, to my delight, a bag of the giant figs.  We’re going to make them an apple pie at some point as a thank you gift, although if this keeps up, it may need to be six apple pies and some homemade bread and a jar of honey.