Growing up, I had no desire to eat fig newtons. I didn’t like the way they looked, I was skeptical about the taste. Now, if there were chocolate chip cookies in my vicinity, look out.
To see what the hype was about, every once in awhile I would nibble on the corner of one and promptly give it back to the person offering, or discard it. No thank you. I didn’t grow up eating figs, and the idea of figs did nothing for me–probably more inducing a shudder than anything else.
Fast forward to my adulthood where now I love most foods. I’ve even eaten a few raw figs and some dried figs, and they’re not bad. I’m not wild about figs. I read on blogs or on facebook pages when people revel I like their old timey sentimental aesthetic more than their flavor.
One day when figs were in season, I made some fig preserve: not sweet, wonderful color and texture. Wow. I did struggle to figure out what could accompany the fig preserve that complimented the super green and fresh (read raw salady) time of the season. Basically, I didn’t feel like turning on the oven to cook pork or chicken.
Then, I tried my hand at making fig newtons, known by their generic name, fig bars. Game changer. I finished these (late) last night, and packaged them up without trying any, and dragged myself to bed.
Today is a whole new day. I’ve eaten about 5 of these bars already and see no end in eating more in sight.
Since I’m working from home today, I can’t escape them…and since they’re not particularly healthy, it makes me wonder if I should have just kept my distance from fig bars…perhaps I’ll just bring some of these to work, and give some to the workout buddy to distribute and share the pain, I mean, the love.