This ice cream has been on my to-do list for over a year. Figs don’t come round all that often in their prime, so testing kept getting shoved off for the more usual, perennial suspects: avocado toast salad, poppyseed banana bread, green milk. But this fig season, there would be no more waiting. I am fortunate to have not one, but two very close friends whose urban jungled yards boast abundantly fruiting fig trees. They know my obsession. And they generously ply me with the fruit whenever they can.

So it was that Ben and Luís arrived at my front door last weekend with a basket of opulent figs in hand. Liba and Micah were right behind them, bearing tahini bread from the farmers market. What a ridiculous gift, to be known so well by one’s friends. Tahini bread and figs, oh my. We sat for a leisurely brunch after a slow morning at the beach. The water is warm these days, warmer than it ever has been in Southern California, an awkward blessing of global warming.

The friends came and went and left me with the figs. It was time. But here’s the thing: I didn’t use the figs in the base of the ice cream. I used fig jam, for its intensity of flavor, and for how well it would stabilize the ice cream base. I know, I know. That means I could’ve made this ice cream at any time of year. I didn’t even need the dang figs.

And yet. I would argue that this ice cream is incomplete without the addition of fresh figs, orange zest, olive oil, and sea salt upon serving. The fresh fig enlivens the rich, almost caramel-like fig, tea, and bergamot flavors in the cream. And there are few things more perfect than fresh figs, olive oil, and sea salt.

You can add a bit of additional sweetener to the ice cream (I used one tablespoon of honey) after the jam, depending on its sweetness. I like keeping the ice cream less sweet. It allows the flavors to shine through where otherwise you’d just taste the monotony of sugar.

You could also strain the custard through a fine mesh sieve before you churn it, but I prefer to leave the seeds, pulp, and skin from the jam mixed in. These fruit bits lend it a stroke of texture that makes the ice cream far more interesting.

I added the zest of an entire orange to the base, a nod to the aromatic and citrusy bergamot in earl grey tea. This ice cream is a lush summer garden of taste and scent. I’ll look forward to making it each year at fig season, and maybe sometimes in the dead of winter, when all that remains of the figs is jam.

I’m off to Riviera Maya, Mexico tomorrow for a birthday celebration, and will be sharing photos and missives on Instagram, of course. A longer post, on turning thirty-five, is coming soon.

I love you. Consider this recipe my little birthday gift to you.

 

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