Last weekend Jason was whisked away to Las Vegas with our friend Scott for some sort of man-weekend that, from what I heard when they got back, involved getting vertigo at the Hoover Dam and eating lots of candy. There was some other stuff too, like eating good food, gambling, and seeing the sites, but I prefer to dwell on the fun details.
I had been looking forward to my weekend home alone, but couldn’t quite decide what to do. Should I eat ice cream out of the container while watching chick flicks? How about an at home manicure and pedicure while sipping champagne and eating cheese I don’t have to share? Or maybe I could go for really long hikes and then lounge poolside?
Doesn’t that sound like a wonderful weekend?
Well, here’s what I really did. I cleaned. I mean, I cleaned. Things were scrubbed with old toothbrushes. Furniture that hasn’t been moved in three years was shoved aside and carpet that no one ever sees was vacuumed thoroughly.
Why? Got me. It’s what I do.
But then, I sat down with an old issue of Cooking Light and started browsing and immediately earmarked about ten recipes that looked amazing. I was downright excited about some of them. This one especially. So, on a Saturday afternoon, I set out in search of needed ingredients.
I was a little irked with myself, too, because I had been at Trader Joe’s just the day before to pick up a few essentials and as I was breezing through the produce section, I saw a few containers of fresh organic figs. I stopped the cart and went so far as to pick up a container, turn it around and give it a good look. And then I put it back down. I have no idea why.
So, on this Saturday afternoon of my weekend home alone, I find myself in my car going to three stores in search of fresh figs (to be fair, I didn’t expect to find them at the first store I went to). I found none, so I ended up at Trader Joe’s, again, this time to buy a bag of dried figs, because there we no more fresh!
The original recipe calls for the extra step of oven-drying fresh figs, which is a little time consuming, but not at all impossible. Ending up with a bag of dried figs worked out nicely, though, allowing me to skip that step and arrive faster to the best part: eating the warm, crispy rosemary-scented flatbread topped with sweet figs, meaty walnuts, carmelized onions, and tangy cheese.
You must make this, and you needn’t wait until you’re home alone with a bucket of old toothbrushes and layers and layers of dust to clean. I imagine this being the centerpiece of a nice backyard get-together with good friends and an even better bottle of wine.