All of y’all know that I love figs. Unadulterated fresh figs are heaven sent, but a close second-best is fig preserves.
I had no intention of making fig preserves yesterday, but when life feels out of control, this stressed-out Southern girl gets cooking. “Don’t mind me, I’m just self-medicating in the kitchen!” (AKA making something from scratch or, better yet, ‘putting something up.’) Hand-wringing has never fixed a single problem, but hand-working has a damn good track record. In the freezer, I had stashed about a half-gallon of figs for a holiday cake, but when family shit hit the fan, my anxiety went flying around the room and well, I suppose we’ll have some other fruit in December! Those little morsels of figgy fabulousness are now all sugared up in Mason jars, fraternizing with some chunky peaches that a friend brought from South Georgia.
What is it about canning or baking that is so magical? It’s kinda like physical therapy for my mental health. It’s logical: I like it when you do a thing and it generates a predictable result. There are times for exploration and open-ended activities, but not on a day when every text buzz brings a fresh set of worries. On those days, I need A+B to equal C. I guess it’s also a kind of meditation to gather the stuff, measure the ingredients, and follow the procedure. Don’t get me wrong, I love my ‘azepams’ in the drawer, but yesterday was a good example of the wonderous magic of self-care fig preserves: first-line medicine for pointless anxiety about the bazillion things in this current shitshow that I have absolutely no control over.
2024 is not for the faint of heart…but y’all, my preserves are f**king delicious.
Sounds good and looks very delicious!
They look great! Where's the recipe?