Fig Leaf Panna Cotta

We are in the middle of fig season.  For a good portion of my life, I was unaware of fresh figs...and their season.  I first experienced truly delicious fresh figs while working in Provence in the late 90s. The property where I lived and worked had three massive fig trees.  I was there in September...right in the middle of the main fig season (there is a smaller season in early summer).  We harvested ripe figs daily and set them on the breakfast buffet for our guests—and I was allowed to eat as many as I wanted.  (We used the excess abundance to make jam...as well as crostatas, fig and almond tarts and clafoutis.)  Like so many fresh fruits, there is nothing quite like tasting a fig at its peak...right off the tree.  I was captivated. 

There was a reason that I was so unaware of fresh figs:  Well into my adulthood, fresh figs were pretty rare where I lived in the Midwest.   You might have occasionally seen them in the grocery store...but they would have been pretty inferior.  Certainly they were inferior enough to make me wonder what all the fuss in food magazines and Mediterranean cookbooks was about.  But after having tasted the real deal in France, I understood.  When I returned home, I began seeking them out at specialty stores...and eventually found them at my local farmers market from a grower who happened to have a fig tree growing in his greenhouse. 

Happily, at some point during the last twenty five years, figs have become widely available in the states.  Nowadays, the ones that fill the stores (even regular grocery stores) during fig season are soft, plump, and sweet.  I can’t get enough of them.

Shortly after my return from France, I purchased the start of a fig tree from that grower at my farmers market.  Most fig trees are not naturally at home in regions with cold winters (anyplace that routinely dips much below 25 degrees), so my little tree has required some babying in the form of burial under a mountain of leaves every winter.  The fruit itself takes a surprisingly long time to mature.  So even where summers are long, if you don’t have tiny incipient figs by late June/early July, you probably won’t get to eat any figs off of your tree that year. I’m happy to report that I occasionally do get a few figs from my tree.

These days, since I can get good figs at the store, I prize my tree mostly for its exotic looking presence in my landscape...and for its leaves!  I remember when I worked in Provence that we always harvested a few leaves when we picked figs for breakfast and then used them to line the platters (fig leaves are beautiful).  And we occasionally used fig leaves as a wrapping for fish that was to be grilled or roasted.  When used in this way, the leaves trap the steam—keeping the fish moist and imparting a subtle coconut aroma to the flesh of the fish as it cooks.    

Fig leaf ice cream...topped with a fig from my tree(!)...

A few years ago I began noticing more recipes that use fig leaves in other ways.  Last year I made fig leaf ice cream (similar to the one David Lebovitz shares on his blog).  The delicate, slightly coconut-y flavor of the ice cream is subtle, exotic and delicious.  I thought of that ice cream this year when I was thinking about ideas for a late summer/early autumn panna cotta.

I imagine everyone is familiar with panna cotta at this point, but if you are not, it is a cool and creamy, dairy-based dessert from Italy.  Panna cotta  means cooked cream...and the cream it is made with is indeed heated—but I think this is mostly for infusion purposes (vanilla bean, spices, citrus zests...and in the current case: fig leaves).  Heating the cream also allows you to dissolve the gelatin, which is the means by which panna cotta is set.  You will often find panna cotta served turned out of its mold and onto a plate for a lovely molded dessert.  But I prefer a softer set (less gelatin), so I always serve it in glasses or ramekins.

Before infusing the cream with the fig leaves, they need to be dried.  Some people do this in a low oven—allowing the leaves to dry and curl gradually.  But it is just as easy...and much quicker...to dry the leaves in a wide skillet.  Rinse the leaves to remove any dust and blot them dry.  Then, place a cast iron (or other heavy) skillet over medium high heat.  Add the leaves to the pan (you will probably need to work in batches) and turn them over occasionally until they are curled, have shrunk a bit, and are beginning to crisp—about 1 1/2 to 2 minutes.

I used a fairly basic, traditional recipe as the starting point for the fig leaf panna cotta.  I substituted milk for some of the cream so that the panna cotta wouldn’t be too rich.  And while every panna cotta I have made over the years has been sweetened with sugar, I chose to substitute honey for some of the sugar in this one since honey and figs are such natural partners.

I like to serve the fig leaf panna cotta topped with a few halved or quartered figs that have been tossed with a little honey simple syrup and allowed to sit for a half hour or so (to encourage the figs to give up some of their juices).  But it would be equally delicious topped with a few raspberries...or some sugared strawberries.  It is also good served plain.  Shortbread or sugar cookies are a fine accompaniment.

If you don’t happen to have a fig tree in your back yard, don’t worry—you can still find a way to make this delicious dessert.  It is highly likely there will be a grower at your farmers market who has a tree and who will be happy to bring a few leaves to the market for you.

Fig Leaf & Honey Panna Cotta

6 large fresh fig leaves (about 1 oz.)
2 1/2 c. heavy cream
6 T. sugar
1/4 c. honey
1 1/2 c. cold whole milk, divided
1 envelope powdered gelatin (2 1/2 t. or 1/4 ounce)
1 t. vanilla

In a cast iron skillet, warm the fig leaves, turning a few times while warming until they are slightly dried out and fragrant…about 1 1/2 minutes. You will probably need to do 2 at time.

Place the cream in a medium-sized, non-reactive saucepan.  Add the fig leaves and push down to submerge.  It’s ok if they break up.  Bring to just under a simmer (Don’t boil).  Remove from the heat, cover, and let steep for two hours or so. 

When ready to finish the panna cotta, place a quarter cup of the milk in a small sauce pan and sprinkle the gelatin over.  Let the gelatin bloom/soften for a few minutes. Place the remaining 1 1/4 cup of milk and vanilla in a bowl large enough to hold all the milk and cream. 

While the gelatin blooms, use a pair of tongs to fish the fig leaves out of the cream.  Place the leaves in a fine meshed strainer set over the pan of cream (hold the strainer in one hand while you use the tongs to grab the leaves with the other hand).  Set the tongs aside and use your clean hands to squeeze as much of the cream out of the leaves as possible and back into the pan of cream (letting it pass through the strainer to catch all the bits of the leaves).  The leaves will have rehydrated a bit and become leathery...so this is a pretty easy process.  Discard the figs leaves.  Set the strainer aside. 

Add the sugar and honey to the infused cream and return the pan to the heat.  Gently warm while stirring with a heat proof spatula until the sugar has dissolved and the mixture is steaming.  Set aside.

Place the small saucepan of milk and bloomed gelatin over low heat and warm, stirring constantly with a rubber spatula, until the gelatin has completely melted.  Off the heat add the sweetened, infused cream and stir until the two mixtures are fully combined.  Set the sieve over the bowl of chilled cream and pour the hot, infused dairy mix through the sieve.  Stir until well combined.  Transfer the mixture to a vessel from which you can easily pour without sloshing or dripping.  Divide the mixture among eight ramekins, wine glasses, parfaits or other clear dessert dishes.   Each portion is about a half cup...so choose containers that will hold 2/3 to 3/4 cup of liquid.

Place the panna cottas on a sheet pan and transfer to the refrigerator.  The panna cotta will be lightly set in about four hours...they will be fully set after 12 hours.   I think the flavor is better/fuller if they are allowed to set overnight. 

Serve cold, topped with wedges of fresh figs tossed in a honey simple syrup (2 parts honey to 1 part warm water), fresh raspberries, or lightly sugared sliced strawberries—or enjoy plain.  Makes 8 (4-oz) servings.

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Fresh Figs....in a Salad with Escarole, Mint, Grapes and Walnuts

I think that we must be experiencing an especially fine year for fresh figs.  For the past two or three weeks, every time I have entered my local Whole Foods I have been greeted by a large table overflowing with fresh Black Mission Figs.  I buy some almost every time...I can't get enough of them.  Figs that make it all the way to the Midwest haven't always been so great.  But even though these have been shipped in (probably from California) they have been surprisingly good—plump, heavy, relatively unblemished...and if not already perfectly ripe, they are close enough to it that they will be after a day or two on my kitchen counter.  Once ripe (soft...on the verge of squishy), they need to be consumed quickly or they will begin to decay.  But this has not been a problem.  I have been eating them raw for breakfast with yogurt...roasted in a compote...and last night as the centerpiece of a delicious, spur-of-the-moment salad. 

Besides figs my salad included red grapes, walnuts, escarole, arugula, mint and a favorite creamy Dijon vinaigrette.  Like most of the impromptu dishes that end up on our table, the inspiration for this particular combination of ingredients came from a number of different sources...not the least of which was what I happened to have in my pantry.  In any case, trying to untangle all of these sources would probably not be very instructive.  Suffice it to say that I have had fig salads on the brain since I prepared one for a private dinner group this past Saturday night and have been thinking a lot about figs in combination with various greens, styles of vinaigrettes, as well as other fruits and nuts. 

As usual, I have included a recipe at the end of my post, but as with all salads this is a "to taste" affair and you should combine the ingredients in quantities that please you.  To begin, add the escarole to the bowl (torn into bite-sized pieces).  Escarole is a substantial green with a delicate crunch.  It adds a slight bitter flavor that contrasts beautifully with the sweet fruit and its texture gives the salad nice structure.  Next add a few leaves of arugula (torn, if large)...not too much, to me this is a mostly escarole salad—the arugula adds some peppery spice and great color contrast to the pale escarole. 

Next add some mint.  If the leaves are very large, tear them into two or three pieces.  My mint patch has just begun to recover from the summer heat, so the leaves are tender and small.  Add more mint than you think you need.  From references I have found in other cookbooks, it seems it was Richard Olney (in his book Simple French Food) who introduced the combination of figs, mint and cream to the mainstream food world...and it is an inspired combination.  The mint really lights this salad up.

Mint for two salads (half a recipe)

Finally, add fresh figs (halved if small, quartered if large), halved red grapes and toasted walnuts (broken into medium-sized pieces).  Add as much as you think you want to eat...this salad should be a celebration of the wonderful fruits and nuts of early autumn.  

Drizzle some of the dressing over the contents of the bowl and gently and carefully toss (you don't want to squash or tear the soft figs).  Use less than you think you need...you don't want a sodden salad.  If you want more dressing, you can always add more...or drizzle some over the plated salads.

To plate the salad, layer the fruits and greens carefully on a platter or individual plates.  Take the time to tuck the fruits in, under and on top of the greens so that they are shown off to most advantage.  If you are arranging the salads on individual plates, make sure that the figs are divided evenly among the plates.  I freely admit that if I were seated next to someone who got more figs than I did I would resort to polite begging or surreptitious thievery in order to get my fair share of figs. 

The interplay of the sweet (figs, grapes and mint), the bitter (escarole and walnuts) and the spicy (arugula and Dijon)...as well as the contrasts in soft and crunchy textures...made for a particularly delightful salad.  If I hadn't already had the rest of my dinner ready and waiting on the stove, I would have gotten up from the table and made myself a second salad.  It was that good.  So, in the interests of fair warning: although the recipe states that it makes four salads, this should be understood to be four nice, medium-sized, first-course dinner salads.  If you decide that you want to revel in a special meal of fresh figs and greens, then you will find that there will only be enough for two. 

  

Autumn Salad of Fresh Figs with Grapes, 

Walnuts, Escarole & Mint

1/4 c. walnuts, plus more for garnish

7 to 8 oz. ripe, fresh figs (about 10), stemmed and halved

1/4 lb. red grapes (about 18 to 20), halved

2 oz. trimmed escarole (see note), torn into bite-sized pieces

a small handful of arugula (a generous half ounce), torn into bite-sized pieces

a handful of mint leaves (about 1/2 cup—measured by dropping the leaves loosely into the cup)

Salt & Pepper

Creamy Dijon Vinaigrette (below)

Preheat the oven to 350­°.  Spread the walnuts in a small pan and toast until fragrant and light golden—about five minutes.  Drizzle sparingly with olive oil and sprinkle with salt.  Set aside to cool.  When cool, break into medium sized pieces. 

Place the escarole, arugula and mint in a large bowl.  Add the figs, grapes and walnuts.  Season with salt and pepper.  Drizzle with a small amount of the vinaigrette and toss carefully.  Everything should be coated in a light film of the dressing. 

Divide the contents of the bowl among four individual plates...tucking the fruits among and around the greens and dividing the figs evenly among the four plates.  (Alternatively, arrange the salad on one large platter.)  If you like, drizzle more of the vinaigrette over the salads.  Serve immediately.  Serves 4.

Note: To prepare the escarole, trim away the bruised outer leaves and the bitter dark green portions.  The prized part of the escarole is the tender, inner, yellow and pale green portion.

Creamy Dijon Vinaigrette:

1 T. champagne (or white wine) vinegar

1 T. Dijon mustard

salt & pepper

1/4 c. olive oil

6 T. whipping cream

Combine the vinegar and mustard in a small bowl and whisk until smooth.  Continue to whisk while slowly drizzling in the oil to form an emulsion.  Whisk in the cream.  Taste and season with salt and pepper.  (The vinaigrette will continue to thicken as it sits.)

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The Pleasure of Fresh Figs and an Oven-Roasted Fruit Compote

I have been particularly taken with figs this year. It started with the slightly early arrival of fresh figs at one of my favorite stalls at the farmers' market. I was so surprised to see them...and then when I got them home I was struck by how fine they were...soft, juicy and very sweet.

When I saw some at the grocery store a few days later, they too looked very good, so I purchased some more. Maybe it is a good year for figs...I really don't know....but I have been enjoying them almost every day now for the past few weeks. They are of course wonderful raw—as a snack or as part of my breakfast bowl of fruit and yogurt. But they are also very good when they are cooked—responding well to grilling/broiling or roasting.

I wasn't introduced to fresh figs until later in life. I grew up on dried figs and Fig Newtons. I don't remember the first time I ever tasted a fresh fig, but I do remember where I first had a truly good fig. It was in Provence. The place I worked there had three huge fig trees, and I was fortunate enough to be there right in the middle of fig season. The figs were delicious...one of my favorite memories of my time there. So to celebrate the wonderful figs that I have been enjoying this year, I thought I would post a recipe for oven-roasted fruit that comes from Provence.

The recipe I'm sharing is my adaptation of one I found in Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa Parties! She learned how to make it while visiting a friend in Provence. Her version doesn't happen to include figs, but she mentions that this simple dessert is adaptable to all kinds of soft fruits. For some reason it is always late summer or early fall when I think to make this dessert—right in the height of fig season. I always include figs—along with raspberries (a match made in heaven).

If you have never tasted fresh figs, I encourage you to seek them out sometime during the next week or two. When you purchase them, look for figs that are smooth, plump, heavy for their size and quite soft. If they are firm, they aren't ripe. If they are light for their size, they will be dry. If they are blemished, they will rot rapidly (if they aren't already rotten). You will find figs in a wide range of colors...from green to dark purple...

with browns and mauves mottled with green in between. Part of what I love about figs is how beautiful they are to look at. When you purchase them, make sure you purchase enough so that after you have tasted them fresh you can include some in an oven-roasted fruit compote.

As for the recipe, although I am including it in detail at the end of the post, you really don't need it. It is the method that is important. You can choose any mix of fruit and pretty much any quantity fruit. (For the pictures in this post I used a quarter pound of figs, a quarter pound of prune plums, a heaped tablespoon of sugar, most of the juice of half an orange and a third cup of raspberries.) The method is appropriate for all of the stone fruits (plums, peaches, nectarines, apricots and cherries) as well as figs. The chosen fruits should be cut into large, even chunks and the dish you use should be a gratin or shallow casserole that is just large enough to hold the fruit in a snug single layer. Fill the dish with the fruit (arranged cut side up).


Drizzle enough liquid (water, wine, orange juice...) over the fruit to coat the bottom of the pan and then sprinkle the cut surfaces of the fruit with sugar to taste—about 2 to 4 tablespoons per pound of fruit, depending on the sweetness of the fruit.

Transfer the dish to the upper third of a hot oven and bake. The goal is syrup-y, tender, caramelized fruit.




The compote can be served in many ways. It is delicious warm or room temperature...even cold. I like it with cake (it is particularly good with a toasted slice of Amor Polenta) or ice cream, but it would also be good simply garnished with whipped mascarpone or crème fraiche...with maybe some cookies on the side. If there happens to be some left over, it is excellent with yogurt for breakfast.

Oven-Roasted Figs with Raspberries

1 1/2 lb. medium sized figs, stemmed and halved
1/4 c. sugar, or to taste
about 1/3 c. water, orange juice or white wine (or a combination)
1 c. raspberries

Place the figs cut side up in a snug single layer in a glass or ceramic baking dish. Add enough liquid to just coat the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle the figs evenly with sugar. Bake in the top third of a preheated 425° to 450° oven until the edges of the figs are beginning to caramelize—about 15 to 20 minutes. Scatter the raspberries over the figs and return the pan to the oven for another 5 minutes to warm the raspberries through (or place under the broiler for deeper caramelization of the figs). Serve warm or at room temperature spooned over Lavender honey or vanilla ice cream or pound cake. Serves 4 to 6.

Variation: Substitute medium plums and/or medium peaches for half (or all) of the weight of the figs. The plums should be quartered (prune plums should be halved) and the peaches cut into sixths or eighths.

Note: If at any time the pan appears to be dry or the juices look like they might be reducing too much, simply drizzle in a bit of water.

(Recipe adapted from Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa Parties!)

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