Figs and I go way back. All the way to my childhood holidays to France. From the first time I tasted them I’ve been hooked.
So hooked that years later, being 22, I went for a last holiday with my parents together. I had left the house a few years already, even lived in France for a while and thought this would be a perfect trip down to memory lane with the both of them.
This trip was to Northern Spain. We stayed at a beautiful hill side campsite at sea. Went for the usual nice cultural visits to Barcelona, had lazy days at the beach. But me and my dad mostly enjoyed the big fig tree in front of the village’s small train station.
It was packed with ripe, sweet, smelling them from miles away, fat figs. We spend some hours before we had them picked. But OMG the taste was so rewarding. I can truly say I LOVE figs.