Lo que no mata engorda: My first fresh fig in Figueras

Figueras, birthplace of Salvador Dali, home to his incredible museum, and the place where I conquered my first fresh fig.

We arrived in Figueras to a more-than-slight drizzle and on our way to the Dali Museum, clutching a much too small FC Barcelona umbrella, we stumbled upon the market, which of course I had to explore a bit. And there I saw them. Fruits that, before that moment, I had only seen in pictures. Yes, never before had I laid eyes on a fresh fig (you can only find the dried variety here).

My knees were shaking as I asked the lady in my broken Spanish if they were already ripe because I was going to eat them now (now, now, now!). And eat them I did…first slowly and carefully, exploring the fig with all my senses and savoring is sweet flavor and soft flesh, and then quickly and greedily, giddy with discovery. Inside they are as bright a ruby as in all the pictures I have seen. Their taste a bright, almost innocent version of their intense dried counterpart. My first fig…but definitely not my last on this trip.