Some doors should stay shut

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.

Image

See? They're just there.

See? They’re just there.

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.

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About reginadma

Hybrid Socialist dedicated to helping the community.
This entry was posted in Food, Stories real & true & made up and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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