Figs for thought

Love ´em or hate ´em figs are everywhere here in the happy Alps. You can smell them ripening on the trees everywhere you go, and they´re bending the boughs over with green and yellow and black fruits.

Last week we went to Pete and Carole and their lovely rooftop terrace-with-a-view for a BBQ -  they had family visiting so another great excuse for a get together...seems like we don´t need much persuading to a party here in Murtas!

like these but uncooked and without the Jamon 
I brought some figs - yellow sweet ones, cross cut on the top, a spoonful of Philly, a walnut on top and a drizzle of local honey...

Our friends from round the corner he will NOT eat my food!  Too spicy, too weird, too FOREIGN!!

But these were figs - real local figs - but then again, I had Messed About with them...However, a couple of glasses of wine - HIS wine - and I was like a dog with a bone...

I offered him one...
-no, I couldn´t possibly
-have it
-ah no, my stomach
-it´s a bloody fig
-no, not for me
pops the smallest one in his mouth

-I am, he says looking really sick
-He did, with a face that would turn the milk sour
-He did

Haven´t seen him since....oops.

Photo credit to