Late Summer Fig Tart

Is there any fruit more stunning than a ripe fig? The fragile thick skin waiting to burst open with a slight pull, the glutinous sweetness oozing out from the round bottom and the fragrant flowers moist and succulent within. When the apricots and peaches start to disappear from the market stalls, the figs come in full force, purple, green and black, summer’s last honeyed gift before autumn sets in.

If I had to pick one tropical fruit, it would probably be the mango. If I had to pick a berry, it would be hands down the raspberry; and if I had to pick a temperate fruit, it would be the fig. Is there anything more seductive or more luscious than a perfect fig?

It is almost something I see as a treat. Childhood summers in Italy were often filled with cantaloupes, watermelons, apricots, peaches, nectarines and even blackberries, but figs were given a special status. Figs were the type of fruit you savoured one at a time. Occasionally we would hear a knock at the door and when we ran to it, there would be no one standing there, only a brown paper bag left on the doorstep. Our neighbour always left her latest harvest quietly without wanting to intrude and inside the lone paper bag there was a reassuring mountain of figs, delicately stacked like frail eggs. My mother would gather bowls and crack open a fig each, pouring over a drizzle of cream and a spoonful of whiskey. In that moment, my memories of summers in Italy were forever captured.

Though I associate fichi with Italy, the first fossils of edible figs were actually found in the Jordan valley as early as 9000BC. They seem to have an older human agricultural history than even wheat, barley and legumes. Originating from the Middle East and Western Asia, they are actually part of the mulberry family and the connection is suddenly made with all the mulberry trees we have seen in Morocco, Turkey and China.

Our ancient ancestors were also enamoured with the fruit, first spreading it from Egypt to Crete and around the 9th century to Ancient Greece. The Greeks loved figs so much that they banned the export of the highest quality ones, preferring to keep the best for themselves. In Ancient Rome it gained the status of a sacred fruit as the fig tree was also recognised as the tree which sheltered the twin founders of Rome – Romolo and Remus and the wolf that took care of them.

During our last week in Provence, figs started popping up at the markets, some not quite ready to eat, others begging to be taken home and turned into something magical. We collected some Black Mission style figs at the market of Lourmarin with a deep purple skin and dark rose interior, a bunch of our generous neighbours’ huge pendulous green figs and a few small Kadota figs from a tree on the road running past the house. Armed with our late summer bounty, we decided to turn them into a tart that would crumble at the touch and melt into the thick dense fragrance of baked figs. A tart that would honour their sacred status and remind everyone why figs were one of the first things humans could not resist cultivating over and over again.

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LATE SUMMER FIG TART  \ˌsəmər fɪg tɑrt\

This is almost more of a sable tart crust than a crispy version. It melts so well with the caramelised figs and cream that it will be difficult to resist not finishing it in one sitting. It is also excellent cold the next day or heated up quickly in the oven.

For the Pastry

2 cups flour
2 tbsp granulated sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup unsalted butter, chilled
1/2 tsp vanilla essence
4 tbsp cold water

For the Frangipane 

75g unsalted butter
75g granulated sugar
75g almond flour
1 egg
1/4 tsp salt

For the Figs & Glaze

about 30 figs
4 tsp peach or apricot jam
1 vanilla pod
3 tsp brandy
2 tbsp lemon juice

zest of 1 lime
zest of 1/2 lemon

For the Mascarpone cream

250g mascarpone
250g crème fraîche
2 tbsp cognac
1 tsp vanilla essence/ seeds from 1 vanilla pod

Make the Pastry

Place the flour, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Cut the chilled butter into small cubes and rub into the flour mixture with your fingertips until it resembles a coarse meal. Add the vanilla essence and the 4 spoonfuls of cold water gradually as you bring the mixture in from the edges of the bowl and roll into a ball. It will be slightly sticky but should hold well together. You may need slightly less or slightly more water depending on the humidity in the air, so add the water gradually. Once the dough has formed a smooth ball, wrap it in some clingfilm and place it in the fridge till ready to use. It can store up to one day in the fridge.

Make the Frangipane

Place all ingredients in a food processor until you get a smooth paste.

Prepare the glaze & figs

Take a small pan and add in the jam, brandy and lemon juice. Turn the heat on low and stir until the mixture is smooth and the glaze begins to thicken slightly. Turn off the heat and add in the vanilla seeds from the fresh pod. Set aside.

Wash the figs well, here I used a mixture of green figs and purple figs, just choose your favourites. Slice each fig in half and place on a plate.

Make the Mascarpone cream

Mix all the ingredients together with a hand whisk or electric whisk. Keep in fridge until needed.

Preheat oven to 190C.

Assemble

When you are ready to bake, roll out the pastry dough until about 0.7cm thick. It will be quite buttery and may break in some places, but simply patch it back together. I prefer a free-form tart in this case, so I rolled it out into an oval shape, but feel free to roll it into a circle and bake in a tart tray or go free-form as well. If not using a tart tray roll out onto baking paper and place on a baking sheet.

Take the frangipane and smooth it out onto the pastry, leaving about 3cm of the pastry edge free. Carefully place the figs cut side up onto the frangipane until the pastry is covered. Take a pastry brush and gently distribute the glaze evenly over the figs. Lift the edge of the pastry up to gently enclose the figs on the sides. 

Bake in the oven for about 50 minutes or until pastry is golden and figs are bubbling slightly.

Remove from oven and let cool for at least 15 minutes. Since the pastry is very delicate, this will also help firm it up a bit. In the meantime sprinkle over the lemon zest and lime zest while hot.

Serve warm with the mascarpone cream.

I dare you to not make this every summer!