The Twenty-Ninth Night

 

"I don't like figs, but I’ve never tasted anything like these!" said Nick, his voice full of delight, eyes still fixed on the bowl.

"Would you like some more?"

"No, no way, thanks! I’m totally stuffed! Where’d you get this recipe?"

"It’s traditional from the central-eastern part of Brazil. And, like most beloved popular recipes, it comes in countless versions. They call it Figos Ramy."

"How do you make something this good?"

"As I said, there are a thousand ways to make it. My version is rather laborious and takes three days to prepare — though there are versions done in twenty minutes, using a pressure cooker."

"Three days just to make a dessert??"

"The process is simple, just slow. It all begins, of course, with the figs — they must be ripe yet firm. If too soft, they’ll fall apart during cooking. If unripe, the flavor will be dull.

"Next, I wash them thoroughly and dry them well. Then, with a small knife, I score a shallow cross on their broader end. Not too deep — I don't want them splitting during cooking — just enough for the syrup to seep in a little.

"Now comes the pan — which must be tall enough to hold the figs upright, snugly side by side.

"You can make two layers, though the ones underneath tend to get a little squashed.

"Once the figs are arranged, I cover them with sugar. For the twelve figs I used, I added about 300 grams, but really, it all depends on the cook’s taste.

"And now, the fun part begins. I place the pot over a very low flame for about ten or fifteen minutes, until the contents begin to simmer and a pinkish syrup appears. Then off the heat it goes, covered and left to rest for twenty-four hours at room temperature.

"On the second day, we face one of the great debates surrounding the recipe: to add water or not? Some do — I don’t. Coffee? Not in my version. Grain alcohol? Lemon juice? None of that! For me, just a small cup of rum. But there are those who add absolutely nothing but sugar over the figs.

"As you can see, the range of variation is vast.

"As I told you, I pour only a small cup of rum over the fruit, without stirring a thing. Then, covered once more, it goes back over a low flame for another fifteen minutes. Once it starts to simmer again, off the heat it comes — still covered — to await the third day, still outside the fridge.

"The third day is the decisive one! Uncovered, the pot returns to the stove — this time over high heat — for about twenty minutes, until the syrup thickens, forms large bubbles, and falls heavily from the spoon.

"By this point, the figs should be glossy on the outside and fully cooked within.

"Is the dessert ready now? Not quite!

"Take it off the heat and let it cool slightly. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to a moderate-low temperature. Once the figs are warm, I line a baking tray with parchment and arrange them there, drizzling a little syrup over them.

"Into the oven they go for about twenty minutes, just long enough to dry out nicely.

"Then out of the oven and into my lovely, decorated compote dish they go. Since I like a bit of syrup, I pour the rest over the figs once they’re in the dish.

"In Brazil, people serve this with fresh cheeses. Others prefer a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a dollop of cream. Since we don’t have Catupiry or similar cheeses here, I made this one myself last night.

"What do you think?"

Nick looked up at me and, without a word, held out his bowl — his face the very picture of a begging puppy.