The Allure of the Fig Leaf
SCÉAL #08 - A deep love for a scent, rooted in childhood. And a simple recipe for using the ingredient of the season.
Hello everyone,
Welcome to the latest edition of Scéals newsletter, Charlotte here this week.
We took a little break from writing recently. A combination of our summer annual leave and very busy bake production days. We spent seven blissful days in Majorca, resetting of minds and bodies, recuperating and enjoying some delicious meals. Maybe we’ll do a short round up newsletter including some of the spots we loved while away.
Some housekeeping before I start. We will be baking this Friday 21st July, 10am - 1pm (or sold out), at The Fumbally Stables. This is going to be our last bake for July. Come on down to stock up on loaves and pastries. Our August dates are still to be confirmed.
There’s Something Captivating About Fig Leaves
About this time of the year, you will always see fig leaves appear on our menu, usually infused into a luscious white chocolate ganache or a vibrant green, pungent oil. I love, love, love to pair it with the first Irish raspberries of the season. There’s something about that slight hint of coconut from fig leaf with tart floral raspberries that reminds me of the nostalgic mouthful of a Jacobs Mikado biscuit.
My love runs deep for the scent and flavour of fig leaves. It has always been incredibly familiar to me, transporting me back to my childhood, but I struggled to pinpoint where and why. To truly figure out why I am bewitched by the scent each growing season I had to rewind over two decades of smells to get to the trigger. The power of your sense of smell and nostalgia is astonishing.
My parents, like many, have a penchant for holding onto things, collectors to say the least. Every Christmas as a child, my dad would bring me into Dublin city centre to pick up a bottle of perfume to give my mom as her gift. It was magical, Grafton Street twinkling with Christmas lights and the legendary window display of Brown Thomas. We always headed to the Jo Malone counter, adorned with giant bell jars containing glass bottles of perfume and candles underneath, swarmed with customers picking out last-minute gifts. We’d pick out the same bottle every year: Wild Fig and Cassis. It was a scent that was emblematic of my mom. She wore it for years. But over time personal taste changed and I got old enough to buy my own gifts for family. The Wild Fig and Cassis perfume was put to the back of the bathroom cabinets. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago, when minding my parents house and our family dog Lily (and having a good aul rummage of course) that my scent memory bank clicked. While sifted through drawers I found my moms collection of empty perfume bottles. I picked up a bottle of Jo Malone, and instantly I was transported back to my moms early 2000’s wardrobe. It was it, I’d found that figgy link all those years later. Curious, I Googled the scent notes behind the fragrance and astonishingly it was peat, figs, woody cedar and cherry notes. Those delicious flavours that I’m drawn to year on year.
Since making those connections and linking it all back to my mom, fig leaves hold an even deeper meaning to me now. What's even more beautiful is that all the fig leaves we use in the bakery come from the fig trees Shane and I planted with my parents at their house during the height covid restrictions and the pandemic. It's a full circle back to my childhood and my mother.
Figgy Fig
To have fig leaves, first, obviously you need fig trees. They are originally native to the Mediterranean region. Figs were highly valued in ancient civilisations such as Egypt, Greece and Rome. Figs are amongst the oldest fruits consumed by humans. They thrive in hot, dry climates and the fruit requires all-day sun to ripen. At our vegetable patch, we have two different varieties of fig tree: Black Mission and Brown Turkey. Neither have successfully produced a crop of fruits large enough to harvest, but have ample amount of leaves for picking. But don’t let the woes of our little microclimate veg patch put you off planting your own tree. I have sampled sweet, firm fruits in Ireland, the first at the Ballymaloe Lit Fest 2014 and again at Elmhurst Cottage Farm, where Scéal Bakery rented its very first kitchen in 2016. The fig tree is much more than the fruits it bears. Often, they can be found in walled gardens as ornamental foilage. If you don’t have a fig tree growing at the moment, chances are one of your neighbours does. Stick you head over the garden wall or strike up a conversation with someone in your neighbourhood. This time of year, the new leaf growth on a fig tree is exponential, and I’m sure they won’t mind parting ways with a couple handfuls.
Interest fact: Figs are not actually a fruit but a type of inflorescence, which is a cluster of flowers. The flowers are located inside the fig, and the fig itself is the fleshy receptacle that surrounds them.
Picking The Leaves
Fig leaves contain an enzyme ficin, which is a latex sap. It becomes visible when you cut the leaves from the main stem. This substance can be a skin irritant, so I would recommend using gloves and a sharp scissors. Remember to wash your hands after picking or foraging.
For the best flavour, select young, glossy leaves. I tend to find that mature leaves lose their intensity over the growing season, likely because they have been exposed to the sun and elements for extended periods. That’s just my theory though. Keep in mind that fig trees are deciduous and will shed their leaves seasonally, usually around the first frost. Always wash the leaves before cooking with them.
The Scent
If you rub a fig leaf between your fingers, you’ll experience this amazing aroma of coconut, vanilla pods and sweet ripe figs. I’ve also read blog posts describing the fragrance as including notes of peat and green walnuts. It wasn’t until much later in my cooking career that I discovered that you can cook with fig leaves. I have tried an array of different preparations in an attempt to extract that heady scent. The most successful methods for transferring and capturing that scent have been infusing the leaves into milk and cream, syrup, oil and blended sugars. There are a whole host of alternative uses for the leaves, such as wrapping whole fish for grilling, binding fresh cheese and braising with meats. However I must admit I haven’t tried any savoury culinary techniques with this ingredient.
Top Tips
Toast your fresh fig leaves in a hot, dry skillet or pan to enhance the fragrance and natural oils within the leaves. Don’t overcrowd the pan - I toast two to three leaves at a time to ensure they are all in direct contact with the hot surface. Toast both sides; the leaves with visibly shrink, shrivel and become crisp to the touch.
If you have a glut of leaves dehydrate them. We’ve had perfect success dehydrating leaves in the bakery to capture that scent of summer for the colder months of the year. It’s a brilliant larder item to fall back on when you’re overwhelmed by heady winter spices. Wash the leaves, dry them, and lay out in a single layer on dehydrator trays. Dehydrate at 35°C-40°C for 12 hours, then place them in ziplock bags or vaccum-sealed bags and freeze. If you don’t have a dehydrator your home oven works too.
Fig Leaf Panna Cotta
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