Each morning, I jump out of bed for the love of breakfast.
As much as I enjoy my usual (All-Bran, a sliced banana, frozen blueberries, cinnamon and soy milk), I sometimes reminisce about these:
That, my friends, is a perfectly ripe, candy-sweet, Italian fig that I picked from a tree in a Tuscan horse field.
I was advised to eat them regularly should I ever want to gain weight. They are higher in sugar than most fruits. Mama mia.
Often, I would eat breakfast standing at the tree bearing these figs. In the middle of Tuscany, near a small town called Cecina, there are no pesticides and no real need to wash the fruit. Other than the odd fig bearing a little horse saliva, they were clean and natural.
I made jam and ate it often with Sopressata Veneta and Fontina:
It was the best weight I ever gained.